Chapter 1
Downtown L.A. — March 14, 2025
An alarm clock blared. A young man slammed his hand down to quiet it. He dragged himself out of bed and went straight into the bathroom to shower. As he stood brushing his teeth, a song began to play on the radio:
A song wishing everyone a good morning.
As the music played softly in the background, his inner monologue took over.
My name is John. You might have heard my friends call me Lucky, though. That’s because everything about my life seems to revolve around luck. From the day I was born up until now, everything just works out for me. At least, that’s what I’m told. Life is funny like that.
After dressing in his suit and tie, he left his apartment, whistling a tune as he stepped out onto the street.
"Hey, Mr. John!" someone called out.
"Hey, Miss Benny," he responded with a warm smile.
As he kept walking, his thoughts returned to her. Miss Benny is one of the oldest ladies in the neighborhood. She’s like a mother to everyone living in this hood. It’s mostly quiet around here now—not like it used to be. Everything has changed. All my homies and neighbors are just trying to get by. Life isn't perfect, but hey, we survive.
A few steps down the block, he spotted four men gathered around a table playing cards.
"Good morning, pops," John greeted them.
"Hey, Johnny, how’re you doing?" one of them asked.
"Can't complain," he replied, keeping his pace.
The men I just greeted might be old now, he thought, but they were once soldiers. Now, they spend their mornings playing cards and reminiscing about their youth.
Suddenly, a mother’s voice echoed from an upstairs window, shattering the morning quiet.
"You better get your sorry ass to school right now, or I’ll beat your ass!" she yelled.
John smiled to himself as he walked past. A second later, a boy burst out of the front door with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He accidentally bumped into John in his rush.
"Sorry, John! I'm off to school, see you this evening!" the boy shouted, already running down the sidewalk.
John smiled, dusted off the sleeve of his suit, and kept on walking and whistling.
His car was parked just a few steps ahead. As he approached it, a group of guys shouted over to him in Spanish.
"¡Hola John! ¿Cómo estás hoy? ¿Qué pasó?"
"I'm doing good, amigos," he responded, waving back.
Those are my homies, John thought as he unlocked his door. The one in the white shirt is Wang. He’s Chinese, but his mom is from Mexico. The guy next to him is Carl; he’s from somewhere in South America, though I’m not entirely sure which country. And the big guy? He's from Panama.
He climbed into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the engine purred to life. As he pulled away from the curb, a new song started drifting through the speakers as bob Marley voice filled the air. Singing the three little birds
