Crew, Page 6

  "We don't fight like you do." I started for the door, saying over my shoulder, "And just remember, you declared war first."

  "You did what?" Zellman's hands fisted in his shaggy hair as he gaped at me.

  I'd just finished relaying the entire story, while both Jordan and Cross kept quiet. Zellman was anything but.

  "She's not going to give it up to me anymore. I won't be able to see the V anymore. My times in that pussy are gone. Man, Bren. Really? She felt so good. Those boobs." He raised his hands, as if squeezing them in the air. "God. They felt so good. So firm." He groaned, slumping onto the couch in Jordan's warehouse/shed.

  Jordan had talked his dad into letting him renovate so it was half a party shed, and half a place for us to hang out or live (if need be). There were couches, a bed in the office area, and a large screen mounted on the side wall. Another corner had been turned into a gym. A punching bag hung there with a whole bunch of weight-lifting equipment. There was a target on one wall for darts, or knives if I wanted to throw something sharper at it.

  "Dude, lay off her," Jordan said, crossing to the fridge for another beer. "You're not in love with the girl. You were just telling us that."

  "She gives good head." Zellman shook his head. "You know how rare that is? Not a lot of girls give good head. They're not properly taught."

  "Stop." Cross winced. He nodded to me. "They were in my room?"

  "Yeah."

  "They think they know, but they don't," Zellman kept on. "They really don't."

  I didn't explain how I'd overheard them. Cross didn't have to ask, and I wasn't sure the other two knew of my weird habit.

  "Taz was the most upset."

  At these words, a different feeling came over the storage shed. A more serious one.

  "Yeah." Cross didn't say anything else.

  I tried to judge how he was feeling, but he was locked down. He wasn't letting me in. His face was schooled, but his shoulders seemed rigid, stiffer than normal. He crossed the room, reaching for the fridge. That whole motion seemed normal, almost casual.

  There it was.

  He was too casual. Normal Cross would've been pissed. He would've pulled that door open with a bit more force than necessary. Not this Cross. A shiver went down my spine. He was furious.

  He took out a beer for himself, palming a second one, and he offered it to me. "B?"

  Definitely furious.

  "Not right now."

  Zellman came over and plopped onto the couch again. "So Taz is upset. What's she upset about? I know there's a whole serious thing happening now, but you guys are not giving enough credit to what I've lost. Good head is like an animal on the endangered list. You gotta groom that shit, protect it, look out for it, hope it grows to be more, but now..." He kicked up his feet, resting them on the coffee table between the couches, and took a long drink from his beer. "I'm going to have to start all over with someone new." He stopped to look at Jordan, but he didn't say anything.

  "Yes," Jordan countered. "You cannot still sneak around with Sunday. We're united."

  Cross remained by the fridge, leaning into it. He pulled his foot up to rest against the wall behind him and stared off into the distance, lost in his head.

  "So you poured orange juice on her?" Zellman asked.

  I nodded, leaning back in my seat.

  Jordan sat on the opposite couch from Zellman. "I'm kind of hoping that was caught on tape."

  Zellman snickered. "Sunday must've been so pissed. She's got a mouth on her."

  "We know!"

  He paused, his eyebrows pulling together as he stared at us. "No. I meant she's got an attitude. She's a spitfire. That's what I like about her." He held his beer up in a salute to us. "But I can see where the misunderstanding happened."

  I was tempted to throw something at him. I refrained, getting up instead. Cross opened the fridge and handed me a beer.

  I went back to my chair.

  "Okay, whatever." Jordan leaned forward. "We don't normally take on catty bitches, and that's what Sunday is, but we'll ice her out. She fucks with one of us; she fucks with all of us."

  Zellman snickered.

  We ignored him.

  "We'll deal with her," Jordan continued. "But I think we have two other issues to deal with first." He turned to me. "You gotta tell us about this Race guy and what's the deal with Drake."

  "You told me I could wait until I was ready. I'm not ready."

  "The guy knows something about you. He had Alex asking about you today."

  That damn lump was back in my throat. "What was he asking?"

  "Just where you were. Why'd you leave? Things like that."

  "Yeah." Zellman leaned forward, bobbing his head up and down. "He was real nosy about you."

  I glanced to Cross, feeling his gaze. His eyes were locked on me, flaring up again. A part of me was relieved. The guarded wall had slipped. I could see him again.

  "What are you going to do about Taz?"

  Deflect. I would go there instead.

  Zellman twisted around. "What? Taz?"

  "Not yet. Hold your horses." Jordan waved a hand in the air. "Don't distract us from this." He gestured to me. "We have to know. What did Drake tell him? We have to know."

  "I want to know about Cross and Taz." Zellman finished his beer, but he didn't stand up for another. "What's your stance on your sis dating members?"

  Cross shot him a dark look. "Are you kidding me? You want to groom my sister to give you the right head?" He pushed up from the wall. "You know how sick that is?"

  "Comic relief." Zellman shot his hands up in surrender, standing and backing away. "That's my job today. Comic relief, everyone. Cross. Comic relief."

  Cross' eyes flicked to the ceiling. "Right. I'll keep that in mind." He finished his beer and headed for the side door, tossing the bottle in the trash.

  Jordan straightened. "Where are you going?"

  Cross stepped out. "Need to think."

  He was going to watch my house. We might've started going there because of me, but it was just as much his spot now as mine.

  Jordan looked at me. "Where's he going?"

  I ignored that. "Taz is worried he'll move out."

  Jordan and Zellman fell silent.

  "She thinks he won't deal with the hassle of getting a lock for his room. He'll just move somewhere else."

  "Damn," said Zellman.

  "Where?" Jordan asked.

  It was obvious. Jordan's family had money, unlike the rest of us. They didn't have a lot, but enough to give Jordan an entire building, and they had land. A large bonfire here didn't attract the cops' attention, and there were lots of fields and woods around for people to slip away and do whatever. Plus, they had a creek that wound through their land. It was a good swimming area. With all that space, a camper set up in the back could be missed by Jordan's parents for weeks, maybe even months, and that was if they didn't just agree to letting Cross use the extra bedroom in the shed. There was a loft set up over the office room that acted as the first bedroom. With an outside hose for a shower, this place could easily be lived in.

  I snorted. "Where do you think?"

  Zellman slapped a hand on the coffee table. "I am down with that. I'm here most of the time anyway. Having Cross live here? I say hell yes."

  Jordan shot him a look. "It's not up to you."

  I frowned.

  So did Zellman. "What? You're saying you might not let him? Shit." He flung a hand up behind him. "He could pop up a tent back there, and your family wouldn't even know. We're here almost all the time."

  Jordan stood, gripping his beer. "You're here almost all the time. Not Cross, a pretty boy my sister has a crush on. We just took down some fucker who tried to force himself on her. She's all mixed up in the head now. I don't want her to get any more confused." He walked to the open door, staring out at where Cross had gone.

  "But he's in our group."

  There was no question that Cross wouldn't do anything with Mallory. He
knew better. We all did, but it was her. What she thought, felt, would feel--I got it. I understood both sides.

  Jordan hung his head. "That's the problem."

  We weren't going to figure it out, and I didn't want the tables to turn against me. The Drake/Race conversation had been shelved, though I knew it wouldn't stay there for long. Jordan could sense trouble coming, and he was going to push. He'd want to be prepared for whatever was coming our way. I understood, but that wasn't what I wanted.

  I wanted to avoid the whole thing, for as long as I could anyway.

  I stood, handing the rest of my beer to Zellman, and started for the door.

  As I left, Jordan called, "You have to tell us. You know that, right?"

  There was no hiding. I knew. He knew. We all knew.

  I stopped and looked over. "I know."

  He nodded. "Tell Cross he's welcome here, just can't let my sister know."

  I looked back, nodding again.

  Then I was gone.

  Our roles were reversed this time.

  Cross was the one sitting on my hill, and he looked up at my approach. He had a ball cap on, pulled low, but I still saw his eyes. They were guarded again. I glanced back over my shoulder before either of us said a word.

  The hill was only accessible by breaking off from a small walking path a couple hundred yards back. Behind me was covered with trees, and beyond that was the path and a gravel road where we had both parked.

  Before I'd pulled onto the gravel road, I'd paused to notice a new construction sign in the field behind our hill.

  "Hey." He sat up, resting his arms on his knees. "You see the sign back there?"

  I clenched my jaw as I sat. "I should've brought alcohol."

  He laughed and reached to his other side, pulling out a whiskey bottle. He set it down between us. "Good thing one of us was thinking."

  I grunted, reaching for it and taking a sip. Fuck. That burned. I hissed, but Cross' hand was up waiting for it. I handed it over, and he did the same. He put it back between us, looping his arms around his knees, and he hunched forward.

  "You here to talk me out of moving out?"

  I shrugged, looping my arms over my knees too. "You know me. I'm down for whatever."

  He continued to watch me. "But you feel bad for Taz."

  Because I'd been her. I'd been the sister hoping her brother would come home one night, but now... "She'll get over it."

  If Cross was really considering moving out, there was a reason for it. I wasn't going to question him, not yet. I'd wait for my turn to pounce.

  He frowned. "I wasn't expecting that response."

  "It's your decision, but do you really want to stay at Jordan's full time?"

  He grinned. "Who said I was thinking about Jordan's place?"

  I looked at him. An uneasy emotion began in my gut, filling me up until one of those damn knots was back in place. "Mine? My brother would go nuts."

  He stretched his legs out and reached for a handful of rocks. He tossed a couple, which sank into the tall grass at the bottom of the hill. "I don't think your brother would notice, but if he did, I think he'd understand. If anyone understood, it'd be him. Besides, your brother loves me. What's the problem?"

  I snorted.

  Love was a stretch. More like Channing put up with Cross.

  He was the least of his worries. Jordan was usually instigating a fight. Zellman was a laughing hyena--Channing's words, not mine. But Cross, he was steady. He was good. He was my best friend, and my brother knew things weren't romantic between us.

  Cross was the only one Channing might be okay having live with us. That was a big might though.

  "We could sneak you in," I said. "He might like it, actually. I'd be home more than I am now. He's always bitching about that."

  Cross laughed. He began flinging the small rocks harder and harder. The last one hit the road, rolling into the middle. He was holding back. He could hurl 'em all the way to my old house's front lawn if he wanted.

  "Want me to live in your closet?"

  I laughed. "Why not? It's good enough for me."

  We shared a grin. I used to curl up in bed with him. That changed around puberty. There were wet dreams, we both smelled, and we had awkward breath in the middle of the night. Cross never asked me to move, but I did. I'd gone through a phase where one zit meant the world was going to end. I liked to think I was more sane now.

  But it never had to be the closet. It was his closet, his home, his room. It was him. I felt safe.

  "Speaking of that, are you really going to take on Sunday Barnes?" he asked. "Isn't that below us?"

  "She was planning the first attack. Rumors. Whispers. That sort of thing. You know, the coward way."

  He sighed, tossed the last of the small rocks, and stood up. Offering a hand to me, he nodded toward town. "Come on. Let's go do something about her. I'm in the mood to stir shit up."

  I took his hand, stood, and dusted off my jeans. "What do you have in mind?"

  "I don't know." He put the whiskey bottle underneath a bush, then led the way back. "I'm improvising."

  I trailed behind him, but right where we would've disappeared into the trees, I turned back. My old house remained in my view, and I could see the lights on inside. The mother walked past in an upstairs bedroom, one of the kids in her arms. She had her arms wrapped so lovingly around him. The little boy wore a towel, the yellow hood almost covering his head.

  My throat swelled up. Why I had a problem breathing lately was beyond me. It was annoying.

  "Bren?"

  I swallowed, forcing whatever emotion had been rising away. "Coming."

  This had started out as a normal evening for me. I'd been content.

  I wasn't anymore.

  Now I was ready to stir shit up too.

  "Yeah?" Cross was on the phone with his sister.

  We'd returned to Jordan's, and all of us now stood around Cross' truck, waiting for the final word.

  He bent his head down. "The girls left then?"

  Taz was talking. We could hear her voice, but not what she was saying.

  "They went to Manny's?" His eyes lifted to mine.

  I could read his mind.

  Fuck.

  Heather ran Manny's. She was in charge of the grill while her brother ran the bar. It was a popular hangout for Normals. Anyone who went to Fallen Crest, our neighboring town, was trying to be uppity. Fallen Crest was rich. Millionaires lived there, and knowing Sunday had gone there with the other cheerleaders pissed me off.

  Roussou was blue collar.

  We were supposed to stay local.

  We didn't get fancy college degrees, or if we did, it was a community college or technical school. I mean, yeah, there were some who left for those nice universities, but they rarely came back. They were usually not crew.

  Heather was different. She lived there. She'd gone to school there, but Sunday--she was reaching above her station. My need to stir shit up went from a fun zone to a pissed-off zone.

  "Okay. Thanks." Cross ended his call and looked at us. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. "Apparently, they've been hanging out in Fallen Crest all summer. Manny's is their new go-to."

  A resounding silence showed our enthusiasm.

  Jordan folded his arms over his chest. "Fuck that."

  Even Zellman's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck they doing there? Sunday hoping to land some rich prick?"

  Cross' top lip curled, but he looked only at me. "What do you want to do?"

  We had to work fast.

  We took Jordan's truck. As soon as he parked next to Sunday's car, Zellman jumped to the ground from the bed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and moved slowly. He looked like he was out for a stroll.

  Cross hopped out next to me and laughed. "He just needs a little bird to perch on his shoulder."

  A second later, Zellman whistled as he headed inside Manny's.

  "Let's go." Jordan stepped around us, using a machine to make quick work of
the lug nuts.

  I was the lookout, and I settled behind the car next to Sunday's, positioned so I could see through the window, but people coming out couldn't see me. I could hear Cross and Jordan working behind me.

  They moved fast and efficiently. This wasn't the first car we'd done.

  They set the jack in place, removed the hubcap. The lug nuts were loosened, and the car was jacked up. It wasn't long before I heard the first tire being taken off. Jordan put it aside as Cross grabbed a cinder block. The jack lowered the car, and they were on to the next tire.

  The second and third tires went just as quickly. I waited until right before they got the fourth one off, then headed inside.

  I was part signal, and part of the con too.

  Cross and Jordan would finish up outside, storing Sunday's tires in the trees so we couldn't be labeled thieves. They always put them close to the vehicle, but they were still a bitch to find. If people knew us, knew our ways, they'd just go look for the tires. That only happened once--when we did this to my brother.

  I laughed to myself, remembering that night.

  Manny's was full, which didn't surprise me. There were Fallen Crest students in the front section. I was walking past the grill counter when Heather came out of her office. She stopped in the hallway, a bunch of papers in her hand, and frowned at me.

  "Hey." Her frown faded, but I saw her wheels turning. Her forehead wrinkled. "I thought you were supposed to be at Channing's tonight."

  Channing. Wha... My wheels started working, and I cursed.

  She grinned, stuffing her papers into her pocket. "Totally forgot?" She gestured behind her. "I thought I saw Zellman a few minutes ago. Is your crew here?"

  "No!" Too much. I coughed. "No. I came to pick him up."

  She twisted around, looking into the back section. "Okay, but listen." Her hand came to my arm.

  I looked down at it.

  Why was Heather touching me? Like she was comforting me? This wasn't our normal interaction. She'd get uncomfortable, then I'd get more uncomfortable, and you never knew who would cut out first.

  It was me this time.

  I stepped away from her hand and pointed behind her. "I gotta go."

  "Okay, but--"

  I brushed past her.