La Sangre De Los Reyes

“Where are you going, Tupac?” Marisól asked. “Out,” he said. “With whom?”  She stepped in to block him from the door. The combination of her bulk and moral authority were impenetrable. He sighed. “With Carlitos and Nando.” “Always those boys with their spray paint and skateboards and slang.” “They’re good guys, Mamá. Carlitos is at…