Crew

  Hearing Taz again, I gestured inside. "My friend wants you to sponsor something for a charity event."

  "Right. She said something when I went in."

  "Are you going to?"

  Heather reached down and straightened back up, her old smoker's can in hand. She bit down on her lip, gazing a bit too adoringly at it. She murmured, distracted, "Are you asking on her behalf? Or are you asking for the sponsorship too?"

  "On her behalf."

  "That's funny," Heather said, lifting her head. "She opened with a line that if I sponsored an ad, I'd be helping you out."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Her exact words were, 'You're dating Channing Monroe, and his sister needs your help."

  "I--" I sighed.

  Jordan snorted in laughter. "That sounds like Taz."

  Zellman kept looking at Heather's exposed leg. I was almost sure I saw a drop of drool at the corner of his mouth.

  Cross came outside then, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. He had a burger in one hand and a small bag of fries in the other. He handed the fries to me. "That's for you." Digging into his pocket, he pulled out two packets of ketchup and handed those over too.

  "What? We're eating here?" Jordan asked. He looked at me. "We're eating now?"

  I glanced at Heather. She seemed relaxed, though she was looking at that can almost the same way Zellman was looking at her. I shrugged. Why not? Taz was still inside.

  "I'm okay with that."

  "Score."

  Jordan jumped up. Zellman didn't, still distracted.

  "Dude." Jordan hit his shoulder with the back of his hand.

  "Huh?" Zellman blinked a few times. "Oh, hey, Cross." He zoomed in. "Wait! You got food? We're eating here?" And it was inevitable; his gaze drifted back down to Heather's leg.

  "Boy," she growled, her hand tightening around the smoker's can. "If you don't stop ogling me, I'm going to hit you upside the head with this can. Got it?"

  "Got it." He jerked back, as if slapped, then rushed inside after Jordan.

  "Yesss." Cross dropped down in one of their abandoned chairs. He lounged back, kicking his feet to rest on the empty bonfire pit.

  "Okay." Heather stood, handing the can to me. "I have to go work or do something. You'd think I'd be over this shit, but nooo. A bad fucking habit for life really means a bad fucking habit for life." Her eyes settled on me a moment as she headed for the door. "I'll let you know if they call again."

  "Thank you."

  "You're still worried?" Cross asked when the door closed behind her.

  "He's my brother. I mean, that's normal. Right?"

  Cross put his burger on the chair next to him. "He'll be fine." He looked over his shoulder to where Heather had gone. "If we're really needed, she'll tell us to go. You know that."

  I knew he was right. Channing wouldn't want us involved, but Heather wasn't my sister. She'd send us in if she thought we needed to go, or she'd call in other guys to help back him up. Coming here just helped me know one other person was worried about him too--and shit, I just realized I was worried about my brother.

  My brother.

  I blinked a few times, straightening up in shock. "I'm worried about my brother." How'd that happen?

  Cross bit into his burger, and he grinned at me around it. "I know. It's like we're in an alternate universe or something. How's it feel?"

  "How's what feel?"

  "Feeling a little normal." He swallowed his food, his eyes darkening, suddenly getting serious. "It's typical to be worried about family."

  It wasn't in my world.

  I scowled at him. "You're my family."

  His tone quieted. "You know what I mean." He bit into his burger again.

  I'd never offered to back up a crew with ours before. That was different too. Channing had stepped in to handle disputes between crews, but actually aligning my crew with his--it hadn't happened. But we were related. It made sense.

  "You know," Cross said. "If our crew and his crew were connected, together we'd be bigger than the Ryerson crew."

  I did the math. Channing's crew had twenty-six members. Our four brought that up to thirty, and some of his weren't active. They'd moved away, gotten old, and started families.

  "Ryerson's would still be bigger, by a few."

  "But we'd be the baddest of them all." He grinned, taking another bite of his burger.

  There was that.

  "Well, that hasn't happened." I could hear Jordan and Zellman coming back outside, and as they pushed the screen door open, I added, "I like how we are right now."

  Cross grunted, and the conversation dropped.

  Jordan and Zellman sat down across from us with bags full of food. As they devoured everything, Taz came out with a soda and a chicken sandwich balanced on top of her tote bag. She took the last empty seat between Cross and Jordan, but she paused before she did.

  No one acted like they noticed, but everyone did.

  I glanced at Cross. He met my gaze. More food for thought.

  Taz placed her sandwich on her lap, then dug into her bag. "Thanks for coming with me. I got three big sponsors I know no one else will get. It's a big deal."

  She handed over some papers, but I declined to look at them, putting a fry into my mouth instead.

  "Yeah. And don't forget about Race's dad," I told her.

  "I know." Taz's eyes rounded, like they had when my cousin came out. "Did you know his dad runs the Harley-Davidson dealership in Wakefield?"

  "How do you know that?" Cross asked her.

  She put the papers back in her bag and reached for her sandwich as she answered. "It's all over school. Sunday knew the first day he showed up." She was about to take a bite when she noticed the stares from everyone. "You guys didn't know?"

  They looked at me instead.

  "You did?" Jordan asked.

  "I just knew his dad ran a Harley store." The dealership in Wakefield was big, really big.

  "I'm getting sick of this kid. He's everywhere. I bet if I took a dump, he'd be in the shower," Jordan grumbled. He was looking at me.

  "What?" I asked. "You know why he's here. He told us."

  "Yeah, yeah." He kicked up his feet. Balling up his wrappers, he tossed them into the empty bonfire pit. His arms folded over his chest. "I don't know. I mean, yeah. I heard what he said. Drake messed with him, then the fighting ring and the divorce, but why do I have a feeling he's not going to go away?"

  He kept looking at me, though he sounded like he was talking to himself.

  I snagged another fry, but Jordan was still watching me intently. "What? I'm not his spokesperson."

  His eyes narrowed. "I got a feeling he wished you were." His eyes skirted to Cross, taking on a speculative gleam. He lifted his chin towards us. "And what was he talking about before? About wondering, but not?"

  Tension settled back over me, pressing down, but so did a ball of anger in my gut. The more Jordan pushed me, the more it rolled around, getting bigger and bigger with each circle.

  Did he want to fight? Was that what he wanted?

  Race wasn't an issue for us. I was getting sick of even hearing his name, not to mention the way Jordan was directing all this crap at me. Race had helped us. He wasn't an adversary. That might change in the future, but Jordan pushing me now had me ready to take up a cause I didn't care about in the first place.

  "Ask him yourself!" I snarled.

  And we were back to the old dynamic--where Jordan was pissed at me for something, and I was defiant. That ball was percolating, getting larger and larger.

  "Or we stop talking about the guy." Cross tossed his burger wrapping into the bonfire too. "Hmm? How about that?"

  Zellman's eyes shifted between Jordan and me, then went to Cross as he took another big bite of his burger. It was almost gone, and he reached for his bag of fries.

  Jordan snorted. "Of course you'd take up for her. Why am I not shocked?"

  Cross' eyes narrowed. "You got something to say to m
e?"

  Taz's eyes were wide and round. I was surprised too. Cross had already said a lot against Race. Now he was piping in against Jordan? Where'd the silent and lethal guy go? He was becoming more confrontational.

  "Okay." Taz waved her hands in a circle. "Not sure what's going on here, but I only need a few more sponsors in case Race's dad doesn't come through." A nervous laugh filtered from her. "Remember? That's what we're doing here. Not fighting."

  I continued to stare at Jordan as I asked her, "How many more?"

  "Three, and they're small packages. Your cousin, and the two Jaxes inside got the big ones."

  I had ideas on a few more spots we could visit. I stood up. "Come on. I'll take you to the rest." I handed my fries to Cross. "I lost my appetite."

  Taz stood too, her bag and sandwich in hand.

  I squared my shoulders. "You got a stick up your ass when it comes to me," I told Jordan. "You better get right with the fact that I'm not going to always do what you want, and you better stop putting other shit on me, like this guy. He's not a problem. Stop making him mine." I looked at Cross. "You want to come?"

  He inclined his head toward Jordan. Almost lazily, he gestured to him with his finger. "I'll get a ride."

  I was ready to head off when his gaze transferred to me again. It lingered. I got the message. He'd stay and watch my back.

  He held out his hand, grazing me as I slipped past.

  I paused for a brief second.

  I didn't look down. I didn't think I dared.

  A need was captured in my throat, along with that tingling from earlier. Pushing forward, I headed to the Jeep, feeling my stomach starting to churn in anticipation, in excitement.

  I didn't realize my lungs had ceased working until I got inside the car. A large amount of air expelled from me, and I had to sit there for a moment.

  Taz said something and ran back.

  My mind was whirling. I felt like my blood was buzzing.

  I needed a minute to center myself, and when Taz came back, her tote bag in hand, I said, "I'll take you back to get your car when we're done."

  "It's not a problem." She shut her door and put her seatbelt on, juggling her bag and sandwich. "I gave Cross the keys. They'll go get the car; then he'll take it home." She gestured over her shoulder as I turned my Jeep to go around Jordan's. "Does that happen often?"

  "What?"

  "The fighting."

  I couldn't answer that. I didn't want to. "Sorry you had to witness it."

  "Jordan might mean well deep down, but it's way far down, like seven layers of Dante's Inferno down. All those layers are his asshole layers." She settled back, unwrapping the last half of her sandwich. "If I joined your crew, all I'd be doing is fighting with him. I get it."

  I turned onto the road, leaving Manny's behind, and glanced sideways to Taz. I had a feeling her way of "getting it" and mine were total opposites.

  I took Taz to a couple more crew businesses, but it wasn't until I was driving her back to her house that she mentioned a main sponsor.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "The big, big one." She was waving her hands in the air again. I could see from the corner of my eye. "You know, when you go to events and you see the main sponsor? Race's dad could do that one."

  "Why didn't you mention it before?"

  She shrugged. "Because it's not mine to fill. It's Ms. Bagirianni's job, but I just texted her and asked if she'd found someone yet. She said no. You want me to read it out loud?"

  I felt the blood drain from my face. "No way. I don't want to hear, see, or know about any personal texts from The Badger. There should be a rule where teachers and staff can't leave the school. When you enter, you deal with them there and only there. It's too much, thinking of all of them having their own lives."

  "Man." She whistled. "She really got under your skin, huh?"

  I fixed her with a look. "If you think The Badger hasn't psychoanalyzed you, you're dumb. Trust me. She analyzes everybody."

  "I'm not insecure about what she might think of me."

  "Ask for her thoughts on your relationship with Cross."

  Taz's smug smile vanished.

  "See? Not so secure now, huh?"

  "That was mean of you."

  Maybe. Well, yes, it was. "Sometimes I'm not so nice."

  I pulled up to the curb by their house and put the Jeep in park, letting the engine idle. I'd only be going in there if Cross was home, and I already knew he wasn't. He'd texted before saying they were at Jordan's.

  Taz looked down at her lap, at her bag sitting there, and she sighed. "I know you're not normal. Your friends are your crew, and I get it. I mean, I think I do. Kind of. But that was a cheap shot you just took. My relationship with Cross is--"

  "Where you're vulnerable?" I asked. "Guess what? My whole life is where I'm vulnerable."

  She held my gaze, then let out another quiet breath. "You think I took a cheap shot at you?"

  I remained like a statue. Taz knew my relationship with The Badger was a sore subject. She got her feelings hurt? Tough. Welcome to life.

  She looked down at her bag again. "Maybe I did."

  I knew she was jealous of my relationship with her brother. I was jealous of how normal her life was. She took a dig at me, and I punched her back. And now she was feeling bad? She'd go inside, sit, and get a home-cooked meal with both of her parents.

  She'd get over it.

  I cleared my throat. "Let's just talk tomorrow, okay?"

  "Okay." She slid out of my vehicle, her hand up in a wave. "Thanks, Bren."

  I nodded.

  I meant to go watch the house, or maybe finish that fight with Jordan, but instead of turning left, I went right.

  I didn't know why.

  I honestly didn't.

  Maybe the whole stupid thing with Jordan was on my mind, and I wanted it done. I didn't want any more questions about him.

  Maybe thinking of Taz with her parents made me think of what Race must be going through, or maybe in some weird way I wanted to make it up to Taz, wipe away the hurt I'd caused her.

  Whatever the reason, I drove to the outskirts of Roussou and headed to the Ryerson's home. Alex's parents lived on the outside of town, so they had a bunch of land extending behind them. There was a pool, a pool house, and a couple storage sheds. They had a setup like Jordan's, but with a longer driveway.

  I wasn't surprised to find Alex's crew lingering around the pool when I parked and got out. Half of them were in it. Some were drinking and talking. Some were dunking the others in the pool. A few girls were straddling some of the guys, their tongues down their throats. Amid all that as a backdrop, I pushed ahead.

  Maybe this wasn't such a great idea, but I wanted to know so I could tell Taz. I was there for her, and I didn't have the guy's phone number.

  I had Alex's. That thought just came to me, almost making me stop where I stood, but I was already here.

  A guy next to Alex poked his arm, pointing to me.

  And Alex saw me.

  I couldn't back out now. It'd make me look scared, weak. Wolf Crew wasn't weak, so ignoring what my gut was telling me, and ignoring a whiff of rotten eggs, I started over to him.

  I didn't go far. I stopped a few feet away from my Jeep.

  Alex stood when he saw me, a beer in hand. His skin glistened, and he had drops pouring down his forehead. He was almost drenched, and I didn't need to get closer to know it wasn't from the pool.

  "Your cousin here?"

  A full smile spread over his face, maybe too quickly, too eager. Too unsettling. "How about a beer instead?"

  I shook my head. "I'm looking for your cousin."

  "Ah." He nodded, the smile fading. A different, meaner grin took its place. "I was wondering what brought Bren Monroe to my place." He made a show of looking behind me. "And without your crew too." He whistled. "You're living on the edge, Bren. I might reach out and...hug you."

  I bared my teeth. "Not without my permission, you
won't."

  He laughed, tipping his head back. The sound was a little too maniacal. "There she is. You looked almost tame for a second, like a sweet little kitten, not the feral puss I know you are." He gestured with his beer back toward where I'd come from. "As for my cousin, he took off after school."

  "What?"

  His smile was fully gone now. A hard glint remained in his eyes, fusing with the haze there. "Let's say we had a difference of opinion about something. Yeah." He motioned again. "He took off. I don't have a clue where."

  Race was gone? Like, gone gone?

  "What about his mom?"

  Alex's eyes sharpened. He lowered his beer. "You know about his mom? About why she's here?"

  "Is she still here?"

  He tilted his head to the side. "How do you know about his mom? Even my crew doesn't know why she's here."

  "Is she still here?" I was pissed, suddenly really, really pissed. Race had made a big fucking deal about his dad's money for Taz's thing, and now he was gone? And I was here, stepping in the middle of another fucking crew when I shouldn't be?

  "Yeah." He took a sip. Slow, methodical. "She's here."

  I was ignoring all of the signs that I should get out of here. Pretend they aren't there, I told myself. Pretend you don't know. Maybe nothing will happen? I'd walked into a den of vipers, and I needed to back out of here before they struck. Everything in me was screaming to run, but I forced a nonchalant look on my face.

  I had to.

  I was close to being in survival mode here.

  And thinking...Race had just changed his location. If his mom was here, he was still in Roussou.

  "Okay." I started back to my Jeep. "Thanks, Alex."

  He waited until I was just in front of it, then called after me, raising his voice, "You fucking him?"

  I stopped, my back to him.

  He did that on purpose, wanting the rest of his crew to hear him. It was a call to action. Get in gear, little kiddies. Time to stop playing. It's a different kind of playtime now.

  When I turned around, I wasn't surprised to find most of them heading our way. I began counting, guessing there were twelve here, maybe a few still in the pool.

  Fake it, Bren.

  So I did. I raised my chin, meeting his gaze square. "That's none of your business, if I were."

  His shoulders fell back and whatever sick excitement he was getting from this conversation went up a full notch.

  Those odds were so damn bad. He was safe, surrounded by his, while mine were absent.