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AGAINST THE ODDS

exploded in their ears. 'Fuck, man, this silencer shit doesn't work,' Rafael laughed. 'The police are gonna come.'

Fox's well-to-do family had no idea what he did. His Brazilian mother and grandmother were very wealthy and his father, divorced from his mother, was a consul from France.

His family was very rich. Amazing. His Brazilian grandmother was fucking rich. I met his mamma, his brother, his driver who did everything for us.

Fox and Rafael were unlikely friends. Fox was plain-faced, tall with a stooped posture, a pear-shaped physique, long arms and dark, razor-cut hair.

He looks like kind of pussy guy, not tough guy, skinny, little bit big bum, shoulders smaller than bum. A shy guy; not a charismatic person. Nobody liked him. From the beginning people say, 'Why you go with this guy, man?' I say, 'I wanna help him.'

The charismatic, gregarious Rafael was also opposite to his friend in his sartorial style. Rafael was often aghast at what he deemed Fox's bad taste. Despite splashing a fortune on his wardrobe, Fox dressed in clothes that Rafael wouldn't wear in a casket, like pairing a €5000 Dior leather jacket, which Rafael abhorred, with jeans and white Nike shoes. Fox was obsessed with his collection of Nike's most expensive sports shoes with the Shox feature — foam springs. He kept a dozen pairs on display on special shelves in his living room.

Totally ugly, these shoes. I don't use training shoes with jeans, but Fox loves white Nikes. If he got one drop of something on his shoes, he got

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