Crew, Page 8

  So he thought his cousin was. If he thought that after the first day, he was in for a rough ride this year. And the way he looked at me, it was always changing. Now I was a new puzzle. He was unlearning what he thought he knew, trying to find the place where the new pieces fit in.

  I shook my head. "Do yourself a favor. Stop trying to figure me out."

  He let out a rueful laugh. "Maybe I should." He glanced in the direction of the guys.

  "Alex is going to kick you out of the house. And that's if he decides you going against him was a family issue, not a crew thing."

  "And if he doesn't? If he decides it's a crew thing?"

  "Then you're fucked. His entire group will turn on you. You'll become the number-one enemy at school."

  He barked out a laugh. "This whole system--it's like nothing else matters. Your rules, your way, your lifestyle. That's it."

  Exactly.

  I offered an olive branch. "You need to decide where your loyalties lie. If you're not joining a group, you better get to your cousin ASAP and kiss his ass until you got no lips. Alex can be a somewhat decent guy on a good day, but if he thinks someone's looking down at him, he turns into a viper."

  "What about you guys? You taking on new members?"

  My chest grew tight. "We don't work like the Ryerson crew. There aren't applications or written rules for us."

  "I'm not much of an ass-kisser, and I've got a feeling Alex isn't going to be my biggest fan here." The side of his mouth lifted. "Good thing I know how to fight."

  Yes, he did.

  He seemed to have real training, not the rough-scraping most of the guys used in fights.

  I was glad to hear about the bluff, but why do that? Why mess with us on the first day, then back us up that same evening? Only time would tell. And with that last thought, he was officially no longer my concern.

  I nodded to where my guys were. "I'm heading back."

  The guys were still laughing with my brother when we got back, and everyone looked over as we approached.

  Jordan extended a hand to Race. "Thanks for backing us up in there." A cocky grin appeared. "Even though we're the right choice, I know Alex is family to you."

  "Yeah." Race shook his hand, glancing sideways at me. "Got a little advice on how to act moving forward."

  Jordan nodded, settling back against his truck.

  I felt Cross' gaze on me, but Channing spoke up, drawing my attention.

  "Can I talk to you?" he asked me.

  No. I sighed on the inside. "Yes."

  Things were stifled between my brother and me. That was the best word to describe it. After Mom died, he hardly ever came home, choosing his friends instead. Then Dad went to prison. And because he'd fucked up the financials so much, on top of his crime, we lost the house. It came down to me going into the foster system or with Channing. We had no other blood family in the area, no one who would take me.

  Things were still...distant, on my part too. We'd been little more than roommates the first year and a half. It'd only been the last six months that he'd started to want to know more about me and where I was.

  This talk right now was not something I wanted to deal with. He was in no place to lecture me. He'd gotten into worse shit younger than me.

  He nodded to the side, and I walked away from the group for a second time.

  "I know I said it before, but Heather's not going to press charges," he assured me. "Because of that, though, she's responsible for all the damages. You and your guys need to help out, come in and clean, do a fundraiser for her or something to help with the repairs."

  I nodded. "Yeah. I can see that."

  It was a technicality that we'd started the fight. The real person who'd started it was Alex Ryerson. He'd cover the damages; he just didn't know it yet.

  "We'll take care of it," I added. "Don't worry."

  "And apologize to Heather."

  I threw him a dark look. That was inevitable. "I know."

  His eyes narrowed, then he rolled them, shaking his head. "You drive me insane sometimes."

  I grunted. The feeling was mutual. "What else do you want, Channing? You could've yelled at me over the phone."

  His eyes widened. "What? You mean you would've answered it? You would've given me the time of day suddenly? Versus all the other days when you ignore that I'm even a part of your life?" He shook his head. "Trust me, I would've preferred to call and not hitch a ride with some guy I don't know. I could have stayed back and tried to help Heather clean up your mess."

  I threw my head back. "It wasn't my mess! Stop blaming me for everything that happens in your life!"

  His eyes narrowed again, and a confused look flashed across his face. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Look. Just... I'm going to stay at Heather's tonight. Maybe instead of you guys doing the cleanup, I'll have my guys do it. You can owe me."

  The place needed to be fixed immediately. Heather needed Manny's to be operating, so I understood what he was thinking. It'd take forever if Heather relied on us to fix it.

  But owing my brother? I already hated owing him what I did: a place to stay, sometimes food, and any signature a guardian had to give for a minor. And now this? I didn't want more on that list, but fucking hell.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and hung my head. "Yeah. Whatever. Just let me know what I owe you."

  "Dinners."

  I lifted my head. "What?"

  "Dinners. Every night."

  Fuuuck. "You work sometimes."

  "You show up wherever I'm at. If I'm at home, dinner there. If I'm at the bar, we can eat in the back or in my office. If I'm at Heather's, go there. Seven every night."

  "Come on." My lips thinned. I glanced at the guys.

  He caught my gaze. "Bring your friends. I don't give a shit. You're my sister. I get you for another year before you take off, and after that, I've got a feeling you'd rather I never see you again. So dinners. I get that from you now. That's what you owe me."

  This wasn't a debt I could pawn off on Alex.

  I gritted my teeth, but there were other emotions mixed with my frustration. They all swirled together inside, and like every day over the last ten years, I just let them be. It would cost too much to try and unwind them all and face them.

  "Fine."

  He nodded, patting me on the shoulder. "I'm not going to kid myself. I know you're not coming home tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow at seven. We'll have tacos."

  Tacos. Lovely.

  But it was. My stomach growled at the idea, and I remembered I hadn't eaten since my burger for lunch. I'd only finished half before bailing out on Heather too.

  "Okay. Tomorrow." He stepped around me, patting me on the arm before calling, "Hey, new guy!" He lifted a hand to Race as he headed back to the group. "I need a ride back. You brought me here; you take me back."

  "What?" Race glanced around. "I wasn't planning on going back..."

  He trailed off as the guys started laughing.

  I started after my brother and could see his head shaking, his shoulders rolled back. This wasn't my brother being a pain in my ass. He'd used his cocky voice, the one he used whenever he was around his crew. That brother was charismatic, a leader, authoritative. I saw what everyone else saw. Channing had such a powerful influence on everyone in Roussou. He had started the entire system, but he did more than that. He protected our town too. I didn't know the extent of it, because he didn't let me know, but I knew shady shit went down in and around Roussou. And I knew it was his group that handled that all. He was revered, with good reason, but he wasn't anyone else's big brother. No one else was his sister. He walked away from me, and it was as if he shed his "big brother" skin. He needed a ride home. He wasn't making any of us take him, for whatever reason. His target was Race, and whether the new guy knew it or not, he was going to do what my brother wanted.

  Even I felt a trace of sympathy for the guy.

  He had no idea that what Channing said went. Channing ruled. It was as simple a
s that.

  Jordan laughed, clapping Race on the shoulder. "You're shit out of luck." He gestured to Channing. "You met the big brother tonight. He gets different treatment when he's in that role. He's not just Bren's brother."

  "Who is he?"

  Zellman began laughing, but Cross spoke over him, looking right at Channing. "He's the godfather. If he says you do something, you do it. Bren's the only one who can talk back to him. Because, you know, family."

  Race's shoulders fell. "Okay." He nodded to my brother. "I'll take you back."

  They moved toward Race's vehicle, and as they opened their doors, my guys went back to where I'd been standing. Except I was gone.

  Cross had glanced at me, and I gave him the look. I'd mouthed, "I'm out" before stepping away.

  I only needed to take one step back, and I was in the shadows. I didn't wait to see Cross' reaction. Not wanting to hash it out with the guys, I headed back through the walking paths. I knew how to criss and cross until I came out to the road a couple miles north of where Cross lived.

  That firefly had come back. I felt its presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. There was no one else but me out here, and I tipped my head back, drinking in the night. The silence was peaceful. I used to yearn for it when my mother wasn't sick, when Dad was drinking. I hated Channing for leaving, but he'd been the smart one. I was the only one who heard her yelling, him yelling. I had to wait until something shattered, then there would be thumps, thuds, things crashing to the floor.

  The cries came next, but not from me.

  I was always either under my covers, silent tears rolling down my face, or slipping out the window. I took lessons from Channing early on. If he could leave, so could I. I was six when I'd first walked across town by myself to Cross' house.

  But over time those sounds had faded at our house, and different sounds took over.

  The beeping of whatever medical device she had in her room. The sound of her vomiting, moaning, groaning, weeping. And the sound of his cursing, the crinkle of the brown bags he'd use to carry booze into the house.

  When she got sick, they stopped fighting. She suffered in her bedroom, and he drank in the basement.

  But even those sounds eventually went away.

  She went into the hospital...and there was nothing.

  Absolute silence.

  Dad didn't even stay in the basement anymore.

  Channing was gone, and so was he. He went to his bar, or his friends' house. If I wasn't at the hospital with Mom, I was home alone. That was a silence I hated until it became a part of me.

  I blended with it.

  From time to time I felt that same silence again--the firefly type. It rose up in me, wrapping around me.

  It kept me company for about a mile until a truck pulled up next to me.

  I heard it coming, the engine rumbling and the light growing like a slow-glowing candle. It chased away the firefly, and as the window rolled down, I felt my insides stop bleeding too.

  Cross slowed the truck to my pace, but he didn't say anything.

  I didn't either.

  I wanted to keep walking, and he let me for a little while--until my insides had completely dried up. It was time to rejoin the world, and with a small exhale, I reached for the door handle.

  Cross nudged on the brakes and waited as I got inside. Like so many other nights, not a word was spoken. He lifted his foot from the brake, and we drove the rest of the way into town to pull up outside his house.

  No lights were on, and the house was quiet as we walked in. We proceeded as we always did.

  He went to the kitchen where he would grab two bottles of water for us. I went up the stairs and to his bedroom, going into his bathroom. Nudging the door closed, I got ready for bed, using the toothbrush I kept here.

  When I was done, I opened the door.

  He was sitting on the bed, a pair of boxer shorts and sleeping shirt folded up next to him. A bottle of water lay next to them, and as I stepped out into his bedroom, he stood, and we switched places.

  The bathroom door closed behind him.

  I dressed in the clothes he'd left out, and I had the closet door open when he returned. I could smell his toothpaste as he stepped past me to the bed.

  "You want the bed?" he asked.

  He knew better.

  My eyes met his for a second, and then I reached over to his desk, where he'd placed three blankets and two pillows. I spread two blankets in the closet, then scooted down. One pillow went under my head, the other I hugged to my chest. I pulled the other blanket over me, but I knew I'd probably kick it off.

  I curled into a ball, lying on my side.

  My phone was off. I knew Cross would wake us up.

  He stood there, watching me for a moment.

  I thought he'd say something, but he didn't. He just stared at me, and a different feeling took root. An awareness. It was low in my belly, beginning to trickle up, almost tickling my insides.

  All the while, Cross never looked away until slowly, he reached up and pulled his shirt off. His muscles rippled from the movement. For a second I saw every single one of his muscles outlined, all the way to the V dipping under his jeans. His eyes stayed on me as his hands dropped to his pants. He unbuckled them, letting them drop, and he kicked them to the side.

  He'd taken his socks and shoes off in the bathroom, and now he stood in his boxer briefs. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, but there was a different feel to the room that night.

  The tickle was still there, but it had softened. It almost felt like a tingle now.

  I couldn't endure it any more, whatever it was, so I closed my eyes.

  The lights went out. Cross turned his sleeping fan to the lowest setting, and without opening my eyes--for a reason even I didn't understand--I reached out and closed his closet door.

  I barricaded myself in, and then I slept.

  I woke early.

  Cross was in the bathroom, but I didn't have any clothes for school. I scribbled him a note, then took his keys and, after a quick stop in the family bathroom, I drove to my place. I showered and changed there, but hurried right back out the door. Channing's bedroom door was closed as I passed. I didn't want Cross to wait or risk a run-in with my brother. After picking up coffee, I went back to his place.

  He was sitting on his porch, and after I parked, I slid into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel. I indicated the coffee for him in the console. He grunted his thanks, but that was it. Neither of us was up for morning chatter. I saw the bags under his eyes. We'd only gotten a few hours of sleep.

  He'd just shifted into drive when the front door opened. Taz walked out, her backpack over one shoulder and her own mug of coffee in hand. Her eyes widened as she saw us, but Cross was already pushing the accelerator.

  Cursing, he hit the brakes, then cast a cursory look at me.

  "If you're pausing on giving her a ride because of me, don't. I'm okay with her. You know that."

  He didn't respond, but I didn't expect him to.

  After waiting another beat, Taz took a breath, rolled her shoulders back, and walked over. She looked like a three year old, her mind made up to ask for something she already knew her parents would say no to, but she was coming anyway.

  Cross rolled his window down. "You want a ride this morning?"

  She stopped right outside my door. "Sunday was supposed to give me a ride this morning." She looked to me, then back to her brother. "I'm guessing she's not coming? She never texted me back."

  She gave us both meaningful looks.

  Cross relaxed into his seat. His arm hung loose over the steering wheel. "Look, if she doesn't show, that's between you and her. Don't get mad at us because you have shit taste in friends. You know she's a shitty person. Don't know why you're wasting your time."

  She rolled her eyes, adjusting her backpack over her shoulder. She switched her coffee to the other hand. "Yeah, yeah. I know, but not all of us have an entire crew at our disposal."
/>   "You need a ride or what?"

  Her eyes grew a little frosty, matching her tone. She ignored her brother. "Pretty sure one of your friends has a certain taste for her too. And like I said, some of us are a bit limited in the friendship category."

  Cross chuckled. "My point still stands. Zellman has no taste in women. He'd bang a door if it had a hole his prick wouldn't get a sliver from. You want a ride or not?"

  She groaned, but nodded. "I can't take Mom's car. She took it this morning." She nodded to me, opening my door. "Slide over, B."

  I did.

  Then we were off, windows down.

  We didn't even try at conversation. It was pointless. We all knew how Cross drove. He took the back roads around town, going as fast as he could. The radio was turned on once we hit the main street, Kansas blaring from the speakers.

  Taz bobbed her head in rhythm with the music, starting to sing, and the tension from last night was gone. It felt right again with the three of us.

  It didn't last. Once we parked at the school, the tension rose, along with the windows. I felt it on my shoulders as we got out, silent once again.

  Taz climbed out of the truck. I slid out behind Cross, and we saw them right away.

  Taz was already around the back when she realized I hadn't followed her.

  "Bren?" She followed our gazes and asked, "Something happen I should know about?"

  Alex Ryerson and ten of his group were heading our way. The girls who'd been standing with them fell back.

  I rounded the back of Cross' truck as Alex stopped about ten yards away. We moved to stand in front of Taz.

  "Guys?" she asked again, so quietly.

  I reached behind me and gestured for her to move away.

  She didn't.

  Alex and his guys moved closer.

  "What's going on, Bren?" Taz asked under her breath.

  "Get Jordan and Zellman." I thought about it and added, "And Race Ryerson."

  She started off, but turned back. "The new guy?"

  "Just do it." I flicked my hand a little harder.

  With a soft huff, she moved to the side and around us, keeping a good distance from Alex's crew as they spread out in a line in front of us, forming half a circle. It was only Cross and me. His truck was behind us, blocking any escape route. Eleven to two was steep odds, even for us. We were going to get real bloody real quick.

  "What do you want, Alex?" Cross asked, his hands half in his pockets and half out.