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tattoo three people. Bobby picked out a large tattoo on the man’s upper chest— Louis Cabellos . Then it clicked. The man wasn’t named Lucy, he was named Lou C. Or maybe Lucy was his nickname because of that. Bobby’s attention was drawn away from the tats to the man’s astonishing blue eyes.
    “Laurie. Que paso , girl,” Lucy said. “This the gavacho you told us about?”
    The man smiled broadly at Laurie, but turned his eyes to hardened steel for Bobby, who readied himself for what was about to come. They’d test him, he just didn’t know how yet. One thing that he did know is that if he failed it would probably mean his life, or at the very least, some bones.
    “His name is Bobby, Lucy. He’s a friend of me and my father.”
    At the term father , the gang leader cocked his head and stared at Laurie. “I remember you saying your dad run away. He’s that old man down at the beach, isn’t he?”
    She nodded.
    “He’s a badass, this dad of yours. He took out some pringao surfers the other day. One came asking for help, but I told him to get lost. I mean, if you get beat by a Geritol , then that’s about you. Has nothing to do with me, yes?”
    As he spoke, the others in the driveway moved until they’d surrounded Bobby. None of the gangbangers seemed to have a weapon, but as baggy as their clothes were, no telling what they could produce if needed.
    “My dad’s pretty cool.”
    “So, are you two tight?” Lucy looked from Bobby to Laurie.
    “We’re working on it.”
    Lucy stared at her for a few seconds, then turned his attention to Bobby. “Where you from, gavacho ?”
    “Memphis.”
    “As in Tennessee?”
    “As in Elvis.”
    A lanky boy crooned the popular song about being a hound dog, smirking around his savagely out of tune falsetto.
    “You have ink?” Lucy asked.
    Bobby held his gaze. “Some.”
    “Any of it related?”
    “Some.”
    “Strip.”
    Bobby didn’t move.
    A crazy-eyed kid with a slash across a cheek flipped out a butterfly knife and pushed his face to within an inch of Bobby’s. “Hey, puto ! Lucy said to strip, so take off your clothes!”
    “Lucy, you said he’d be safe.” Laurie moved to step in front of Bobby, but he held her back with his left hand.
    “That was before I found out he was affiliated.”
    “How about if I only take off my shirt.” Bobby spoke calmly, careful not to get angry.
    A beefy kid with food stains on the front of his wife-beater yelled in his ear. “ Hija la Chingada ! Take it all off.”
    Bobby frowned. “I doubt you want a naked white boy standing on your street for all the kids on trikes to see, so let me take off my shirt and show my ink. I come in peace. I’m not representing. I want to show respect.”
    Bobby felt Laurie staring at him. He’d never told her about this. It wasn’t like he’d hid the information from her, he’d just never had the reason to tell her. Still, he knew he was going to pay.
    The kid with the knife made a move, but Lucy stopped him with a meaty hand. “Let the man show respect. Go ahead, Dukes of Hazard, take off your shirt.”
    Careful so as not to make any sudden moves, Bobby pulled his T-shirt over his head. He dropped his arms to his side, the shirt gripped in his right hand. His well-tanned torso held two tattoos. On his left breast were twin lines of text that read I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra . On his right breast was a silhouette of a cartoon Playboy bunny rabbit with the name Nosebleed scrawled above it. Other than the portrait of Elvis tattooed on his right forearm, these were the only tattoos he had.
    Several of the Angels leaned in, but none of them seemed to know what they were looking at. Even Lucy looked, but didn’t see anything gang affiliated. The leader finally shouted toward the house. “Pops, come here and check out the gavacho puto .”
    An older man wearing a starched ILWU longshoreman’s union shirt and black slacks stepped from the porch. The boys parted as the man stepped