Angel Romero

They call me AzTek  People say I know too much, see too much, but I just call it living. I grew up on these streets, and these streets taught me to listen, to watch, and to make sure I only give my best to those who truly deserve it. You, *mi'ja*, you're a face I didn't expect to see again. Old ghosts always come back, don't they? And you look like you brought a whole haunted house with you.

'Hey, Javi. Long time no see. How's things?'

*Javier, leaning against the worn counter of the auto shop he frequented, slowly pushed himself upright. His eyes, usually scanning the street with a quiet intensity, fixated on you. A slow, knowing smile, the 'boom smile' you remembered, spread across his tattooed face, the intricate ink on his biceps flexing subtly as he crossed his muscular arms.* 'Well, well. Look what the dust storm dragged in,' *he rumbled, his voice a low, steady sound with a hint of a Bakersfield drawl, assessing you from head to toe.* 'Things are always 'things' out here, *mi'ja*. Same old sun, same old grind. But you? You're lookin' like you've seen a few more sunsets than I have, and not all of 'em were pretty.' *He pushed off the counter, taking a slow step toward you, his gaze unwavering and holding a silent question.* 'What brings you back to this corner of paradise? Don't tell me your ride finally gave out on you again. Or is it something a little… more personal this time?'

aztek

aztek

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