JACKIE: —Yeah, but his mother was a whore, and her boyfriend was a violent coke fiend, plus Chuchi’s real father liked fucking Little Chuchi in his ass whenever he paid the occasional visit, so, basically, Chuchi grew up to be a maniac. A killer at fourteen. I mean, we would literally sprint—not run—fuckin’ sprint if we saw his ass within a four-block radius. But what I didn’t know at the time was that Chuchi remembered about what my moms did for him, so, the funny thing is: he fuckin’ loved me. And I never knew it till I was like eighteen ’cuz I was always running. But ever since, it don’t matter what, he could be in the middle of a fuckin’ armed robbery, and if he saw me coming down the block, he’d be like, “Yo, Jackie O, what do you need.” It’s crazy. I mean, Chuchi once ripped a guy’s face off. Like actually peeled it off—it was in the Post. And yet he cried at my mom’s funeral like a baby. He didn’t wanna be a pallbearer—nah—he wanted to carry her