Always Crew

I glanced at him, surprised.

He gave me a knowing grin. “Small world, right?” He looked back to the street. “I called my friend up last night and she gave me a bit of history about that school, the crew system. Your crew. You. She knows your brother, because the only one of us who has actually met your brother is Gramps. The rest of us only know of Monroe. My friend told me that to her knowledge, a Bren Monroe was never planning on attending college.”

What the fuck?

I kept a mask on my face, but I was frowning. I was frowning a whole bunch on the inside. I was scowling, actually.

“So, here I am. I’m the one who makes sure everything and everyone runs smoothly in our group. I take into account weaknesses, strengths, personalities. I don’t like having outliers or someone going off-book. You know what that means?”

This guy was starting to get on my nerves.

I answered, “I told my spiel to Hawk–-”

“Yeah. She told me.”

And he didn’t sound happy by my response.

Too bad.

I kept on, “The teacher I stabbed came at me and put his hands on my friend. But I did my time, and I’m rehabilitated.”

“You also have an extensive history of violence, which you just referenced.”

Well, crap.

“I can handle myself.”

“We ain’t the cops. We don’t have the authority they have, and even then, they get mouthed back. People don’t like getting hauled in to jail by us. If they miss a court date, there’s a reason. They’re avoiding going back, and they’re either stupid and running or they’re stupid and thinking they’ll fall through the cracks. We pick them up and they don’t roll out the red carpet for us. I need to know that if a guy says the wrong thing to you you’re not going to go maverick on us. Put a knife in someone as payback.”

Shit. That was my reputation?

I fought back if I was attacked, or if someone went after my loved ones. That was my rule.

Right?

But I was embarrassed.

I was shriveling up inside.

I spoke, making sure I was saying it clearly and strong, “Rules are different in the real world. I don’t know this world, but I know it’s not the same as Roussou High School. There aren’t crews like we had back there. You don’t have to worry about me going rogue.”

He was driving, but glancing over, weighing my words.

It still stung. That’s what he thought of me, that I was some hothead who just went off on people, and it stung even more because … was I? Had I done that before? I always thought it was because someone was coming at me first, but had I been wrong?

“We know the Red Demons.”

And no.

I wasn’t talking about them. I wasn’t talking about my dad. This conversation was done. I didn’t care if I was the new girl or not.

He was still watching me, and he said softly a second later, “But you don’t want to talk about them, huh?”

I looked at him, knowing my eyes were dead. “My father is not up for discussion. Give me crap all you want about how shitty a person I used to be, but don’t pimp me for information about my dad. I’ve had nothing to do with him since he went to prison, and I’ve had nothing to do with him, or his new group of friends since he was released. I’m the wrong person for you to be talking to about them.”

His eyes narrowed before turning back to the road, slowing outside a run-down house. Its shudders were off. The roof needed reshingling. The attached garage door had the windows shattered. Tape and cardboard blocked out the windows on the house, keeping the light out. The front porch had holes all over it. I could almost visualize the cockroaches scurrying inside.

This was a meth house.

Pulling in and turning off his engine, Brock didn’t move. “Stay here. There’s a Taser in the glove compartment if you need it.”

He got out, followed by Shetland getting out of his own door. I watched as they moved in on the house. There was no discussion. They all knew exactly where to go, what position to take, and a beat later, they were kicking in the door.

CROSS

I was waiting for Blaise outside the soccer facilities. We all had psych together, so I knew he’d be heading across campus soon. When he pushed open the door, his backpack on and a phone to his ear, he paused only briefly.

“See you in a bit.”

There was no play here. My brother and I had a tense truce, but it was still a truce. We were both trying, but as I always did whenever I saw my brother, I locked down. Blaise, on the other hand, he went the other way. He took stock, knew I was tensing, and his grin turned a bit wild. That’s how he was. He liked riling me up, getting a reaction from me. And he was usually successful at it.