Crimie

Medina was in the front passenger seat and one of his crimies was behind the wheel. They double-parked in front of a vacant lot and called over the guy Medina was looking for: Luis Figueroa, who was drinking a forty-ounce bottle of beer and talking to some friends. Figueroa had recently come from Mexico illegally. When he wasn't working his fast food job, he hung around Worcester riding his bicycle, socializing, and drinking.

Still, the bond between me and my crimies was way stronger than what I had with my own family. I was going to become a gangster and the rest of the world could go fuck itself.