Chigo

He took his Queen out, looked at me, and said, "Check, bitch!" I said, "Fuck this shit, you fuckin Mexican." His name was Chigo. As long as I rememeber him, he always had a different girl. He didn't go after them, but I think they were just drawn to him. He knew how to talk to them. I don't know where he found them, but there was always someone staying with him. He was big and he loved to work out, or make money to give to his mom. He was usually stoned or on coke, but he was usually buying it for his girl.

"Chigo called," my friend and I would joke, "he wanted to hang out." The problem was he talked too much about his problems and his girls. He had this humble voice, like he was about to weep. "She's always high," he'd complain. Most of the time, he was getting a girl pregnant and had to go for the abortion.

I was over at his place one time: it was me, him, his girlfriend, and another girl. He said to me, "Try to work on her friend." That girl was shameless. She would compliment him on his muscles, in front of his girlfriend. One time I went over to her place without calling first. As I sat in my car, I saw Chigo walk in before I got there. He left after about half an hour.

The last I heard about him, he regularly attended church and had a well-behaved girlfriend. He's been with her ever since he got her pregnant.