Jax also loved the idea of Sunday breakfast that he's now blocked it on his calendar forever—not that coming over any time of the day has stopped him before. He's even volunteered to bring some food every Sunday, and the other guys offered to cook alternately.
Wordlessly, I get inside the front seat of the middle SUV, signaling Giorgino, the teenager, to get in the back, along with Raul and Carmelo. Jax gets in the driver's seat. The other men file into the two SUVs. And we all head to the South Side.
Twenty minutes later, we're cruising down one of the worst residential areas in Chicago. I haven't been here for years, but there's very little change. Some people loitering in their yards crane their necks to look at us and they immediately run inside their houses, seemingly recognizing our cars. We're not worried they'll call the cops. They know better than to get in our way.