I'm using google translate bcs I don't know a lick of Spanish, save the very basic!

Summertime in L.A. sits with humid shoulders and sticky breath. Abbie walks beside him, matching faces, blank and free of lines. A cigarette hangs from his lips like a limp noodle, flailing about in the wind―ash fluttering off like a lost memory. Fickle thoughts, really. Childhood is such a petty thing. Like petulant teenagers and pranking adults.

Like, how long 'til Laurent and his assistant are here. How long 'til Edamura figures out that he's not getting out of this group no matter what he does (they will find him - they have connections everywhere). Laurent can't keep his dick in his pants is what he's betting on.

Abbie switches out her solemn face for something more bubbly, more stupid, more the thing men like Eddie Cassano want. He grinds his cigarette to his teeth then he does the same with the bottom of his shoe. Switching his grimace for a smirk and the blankness in his eyes for something light and kind. Something like a twenty-five, twenty-two, nineteen year old looking for opportunity.

Robert Mateo Lopez at their service. Cuban and dealing in a brand of smuggling, partners with Laurent Thierry in the buying, selling, and smuggling of the new drug Sakura Magic. He is easygoing and confidence mashed into one lithe body; tactile and sharp if not a bit close-minded about what goes on around him - he's got an infamous short temper and a snarling smile you don't want to be on the other side of. His mother is Isabella Lopez, originally Isabella Hernandez, a kind woman who died to some water borne disease. Father: Hernando Lopez, a drug trafficker. Owned a drug ring before it killed him. Like father like son, in this case.

He kills the person he was before.

Robert stops, Abbie continues forward. She turns to him and nods, speaking to him in that stupid accent she's absolutely perfected. "You waiting out here, yes?"

"Sí, go ahead mi amigo." He cheers back in his own perfected accent. Eyes twinkling like plastic in the sun, melted to a car tire in the middle of summer. It smells like burning rubber and stale cars. 

A

bbie disappears behind the gate for the seventeenth time to date.

_

Two men (well, one was a boy, that could hardly be qualified) walked up to the gate. Terrible joke, he knows.

"Ah! ¿Laurent, como estas?"

The blonde grins. "Robert, why, it's been ages, I'm doing well! Edamame, this is my friend, Robert, Robert, this is Edamame-"

"Edamura." The Japanese boy corrects.

"I'm sure you two will get along great!"

"Sí, I am Roberto Mateo Lopez, mi familia send me here, it's good for business, yes? Los Angeles is muy better than Cuba. More money, you.. ah, sabes?"

"Know," Laurent corrects with a smirk.

"Sí, you know?"

The boy. Short stature, fake glasses, tacky suit, case, short hair, wide eyed, a kid. Brown hair, brown eyes, no blemishes save for scrapes. His english is terrible, his accent needs work, he doesn't sound remotely Japanese. "I'm, well I've already been introduced, I'm Edamura Makoto, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Boy, Edamura, bows. Right, that's customary in Japan - or something. He hasn't been there in a while, though his language skills have stayed the same. Knowing a haul of languages was something he needed for his cover; it was of the utmost importance. "Muy bien, let's go inside now, señor Edamura."

Laurent sweet talks the guards, or something similar. Cassano is a film producer and the leader of the mafia―the old man ran drug production on this side of Hollywood. It's almost funny, they were selling him a fake drug, after all - thank god Abbie is there to fake a reaction, this would go to shit otherwise.

Straightening his tye and flattening the creases that line his suit, Robert walks through the silver gate, Cassano's bodyguard - Salazar or something similar - slits his eyes when they walk in. Through the lavishly, but not unexpectedly, large estate. Though that's guessed, seeing as the man that owns it also owns half of Hollywood's slum-life on drug money. A shame, really. Laurent pushes them out to the pool house, or to the pool, or whatever. There are women dancing around―ready to do whatever it takes to be happy, or high. Same difference to them - well, all except Cynthia and Abbie. Both of whom are chilling, Cynthia is playing with the other girls, but Robert can't find it in himself to give a shit. Abbie is on a floaty.

Edamura twitches nervously in front of Cassano, sweat beading down his forehead. Laurent winks.

"Dr. Edamura is big help, sí! He makes this, ah, asombroso - amazing drug. I helped oversee the ingredients. Ports are very hard to manipulate.. todos.. the way in Japan. The Japanese are very careful with their borders, you know?" Robert grins with sharp teeth. "They've been paranocio - ah, scared, since China's opioid fiasco. El Yakuza are very hard to convince."

Cassano grins, slightly at this. Sliver hair glinting in the sunshine.

"Is that so?"

"Sí! You want the ingredient manañas? We will get them to you man- ah, tomorrow. My bad, my english, it's not so good when I am excited."

"Ah, that's quite all right."

"Bien, good. Laurant here made me buy Mr. Edamura here a ticket with two day notice! Dos! Do you know how.. ah, crazy that is? This man I tell you. ¡Loco!"

"Now now Robert!"

Robert glares. Time for revenge.

"¡Estupido, estupido, estupido! ¡Loco hija de un puta! ¡Loco te digo!" Digging a darkly colored finger to his partners chest. "¿¡Dame una advertencia la próxima vez, idiota!?"

"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right. It is stupid of me. If this ever happens again I'll be sure to give you a warning at least a month in advance."

"Bien, bien. Adios, señor Cassano."

"Goodbye, I hope to see you soon." The old man waves with a smirk.

"Sí - yes, I have a hotel room with Laurent here. That is if he doesn't end up paying for a room alone with that boy. Yo jujar. Ese hombre piensa con su-"

"There there Robert! No need to be hasty."

"You're paying for dinner." Is all Robert says