There Goes the Neighborhood

Zeke locks the door behind us as Malachi and I attempt to see who can jump high enough to touch the hallway ceiling. I’m centimeters away from swiping the stucco above our heads when a familiar voice yells at us from down the hall.

“Cut that stuff out!”

“Not this jerk again,” Malachi murmurs.

Right on cue, Vic comes waddling down the hall. He’s one of those short, pudgy white dudes who’s thicc with lower body curves honestly not unlike my grandma.

“Here comes the Evil Landlord and his signature body odor fragrance…” I say to the guys. We cackle, which only makes Vic more pissed.

“Hahaha laugh all you want, cretins. In thirty days, I’ll be the one laughing.” He haphazardly waves a scroll of paper at our faces like a fire extinguisher. “I’ll never have to see you three spilling Arizonas and stomping all over my units ever again.”

“Cause you’re gunna kill us?” I chime in with a devious grin.

“As much pleasure as that would give me, no. I won’t have to.

Didn’t you hear the news?” He runs his french-fry-grease-soaked hands across his mouth and nods at Zeke. “Acne-ridden wannabe Carlos Vives over here is moving.” Vic makes his pale fingers into the shape of a gun and pretends to fire it at Zeke’s chest.

“What are you talking about? We’re not moving,” Zeke pipes back.

Oil mixed with sweat glistens above the self-satisfied grin smeared across Vic’s face. “Oh yeah? So, you’re saying that you personally have the money to afford the sixty percent increase in rent, then?” A fly buzzes through the hallway, filling the silence that falls between us. Vic moves to swat it. He misses.

Look, I don’t know how much the rent is, but I got an A in math last year-a 60 percent increase is no joke.

“You see this?” Vic theatrically unrolls the scroll that he’s been wielding and reveals a set of blueprints. “The shithole that you’re standing in now-which was run into the ground by all of your people-will soon be renovated. Out with the old tenants, and in with the new ones.” I’ve seen enough changes on the block recently to know what he means. Read: millennials with tech jobs and hipsters with trust funds. “And this apartment complex”-he knocks on the wall-“is going to house them.”

“You can’t do that!” Zeke shouts. His voice cracks in a way that under different circumstances would have been fair game for ridicule. “We’re under rent control.”

“News flash: the rent control ordinance expired, kiddo. And I’ve already got an investor lined up. We’re expected to close the deal by the end of the month. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Vic pushes past a stunned Zeke to start taping notices of eviction to each of the doors.

Nuh-uh, f that. First they close our shops, now they’re full-on tryna displace us? I throw my arm in front of the door that Vic is preparing to plaster. “Do you really think you can get away with this?” The rage that’s been building inside of me all afternoon, all summer, pops off. I knock the stack of eviction notices from his grimy hand. “Well, go ahead. Try it. I f-ing dare you.” I get all up in Vic’s space, so close that I can feel his soggy fast-food breath soak the air between us. I lower my voice to a cold whisper. “Because guess what? When all this shit passes, we’ll be the ones left standing…not you.”

His beady eyes narrow. “Is that a threat?”

I cross my arms. “It’s the truth.”

Vic sneers and gathers the papers from the floor. “Thirty days. That’s all you got.”

“Is that a challenge?” I clap back.

I stare Vic down and he stares right back. No matter where Zeke moves, there’s no way he’d stay nearby-not with prices surging across the city. He could end up all the way out in the valley or even the Inland Empire, both of which are far as hell. Moving out there is practically like going out of state-we’d never see Zeke.

I break away to look over at Zeke, who’s glued to his door, mist gathering over his eyes. I grab his wrist and pull him down the hallway with Malachi while the ghost of Vic’s sick laughter bounces off the concrete walls against our backs. “Change is inevitable, kids. Better get used to it now.”

The door slams, and we’re left standing outside, looking in.

“To Live and Die in LA…” Zeke says, eyes red. “That was the plan.” I clench my fists until the knuckles crack. Our crew is not falling apart. Not like this, not on my watch, not ever.

We have to stop him.

“It still is.”