by Tijan
“You’re Bren.”
The runner oozed warmth, and I turned to her, feeling myself standing without consciously planning on it. “Hi. Yeah.”
She came at me, wrapped her arms tight, and squeezed.
Heather winced. “Uh. Bren’s not—”
She stiffened, cursing under her breath. Pulling back, she grimaced. “Sorry. You’re just…” She smoothed my hair and motioned over the rest of me as she forcibly took a step backward. “I’m Sam, and you’re perfect, and I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long, but Heather’s been wary. Anyway, I recently had a baby, and my emotions are still all motherly, and Heather talks about you as if she’s your mother, and it melts my heart every time, but...” Her eyes raised to mine, and she slowed down.
She bit her lip, taking another step back. The footballer hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, but they both stood, both observing me.
“Well…” I was full of piss and vinegar. “Don’t I feel like an animal in the zoo right now.”
“Bren!” Heather yelled.
The couple laughed. Both of them. They enjoyed that from me.
I wasn’t sure how to take that.
“This is Sam and Mason,” Heather said. “These are two very, very, very good friends of mine and your brother’s.”
I heard the warning in her voice and knew I needed to make myself scarce. I didn’t adult well, and these people were too important to piss off the first time I officially met them. It was just my go-to habit.
“I should get going.”
The guy spoke up, his eyes narrowing on me. “We heard you met Sam’s mother-in-law.”
“Mason,” his woman said.
He ignored the reprimand. “What’d you think of her?”
I remembered that lady. I shrugged. “Not much.”
Sam seemed to tense. Her face didn’t show anything, but I sensed it. My indifference struck her for some reason.
His face got colder. “She said she knows your boy’s father and woman. Said they’re neighbors of hers. Said you might be around more because you and your guy are tighter than Sam and I were in high school.”
I waited, my head tilted to the side. His words might’ve come off as just words. Maybe a conversation starter, but I wasn’t getting that from him. He was warning me too, warning me that Heather had warned me.
That was interesting.
“I thought you said she was her mother-in-law?” I nodded toward his wife.
“She is.”
“She married my dad,” Runner added. “She’s not Mason’s mother.”
“Why are you warning me off from her?” I asked.
“Fucking Christ,” Heather breathed.
The runner sent Heather an apologetic look. Heather sent one right back.
The two people not apologizing were the guy and me. I thought that was funny. He seemed perfectly content with what he was saying. Fine. Fuck it. He wanted to metaphorically push me around? Bring it, asswipe.
I took a step toward them and lowered my voice. “What is this? You’re circling the wagons around your loved ones? Warning me not to mess with them or something? Do you know me?” My nostrils flared.
This guy’s eyes were jaded and old, and he had seen and dealt with a lot. I saw all of that, felt all of that, and maybe that’s why I was getting all riled up.
But then I wasn’t.
Whatever the reason, I felt myself deflating into an odd serene feeling. No clue why. “You don’t need to,” I told him. “Everything you said is right, and though I haven’t seen the lady again, I’m sure I will. It’s inevitable since she seems to be the neighborhood watchdog. But you’re wrong to worry about me. I’m not a typical high school punk. And I’m guessing she never confided in you either. That woman knew my mom, said she was friends with her. Why the fuck would I mess with someone who loved my mom?”
I heard Heather’s intake of air.
She loved my mom. She’d said it. She and I had that in common, and it wasn’t a connection a lot of people could claim. The right thing would be to cherish it, and since Mason had brought her up, since I was declaring all of this, I made the decision then and there.
I was going to seek her out and ask her to tell me about my mom, tell me more.
Finally, the guy cracked a bit and showed a sliver of emotion. He showed regret, but it was gone just as soon as it showed.
“Fuck’s sakes,” Heather said. “Where’s Logan when you actually want an inappropriate joke to ease the tension?”
I flashed Heather a smile, but I knew it was sad. She’d been watching me, and she knew it was sad too.
“Bren.” She reached for me.
I evaded her touch, but I spoke softly so her feelings weren’t hurt. “You know me. I got default settings. I’m pretty sure Jordan is distracting Brandon so Z can sneak booze from your bar, but don’t worry. After the last time, I reamed his ass. He’ll leave money to cover. Jordan asked Brandon one night how much each bottle cost. Your brother didn’t know the real reason he was asking.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
I shook my head. “Maybe you don’t know us…”
“I’m sorry, guys. I have to take care of those little shits.”
She stormed off, hurrying to Manny’s in a quick gait, and the opposite of what I’d wanted just happened. I was going to be the one to go and handle them.
“Regretting your words?” the guy asked.
I looked at the guy again. “Maybe.”
Another tug at his lip and the runner bit down on hers, looking down. Her shoulders shook silently.
Great. I was entertainment to them. This wasn’t usually the response I got from adults.
“People older than me are usually scared I’ll slip out a knife. You guys are laughing at me.”
“Oh my God.” The runner’s shoulders stopped, and her head whipped up. “No! Oh no. We are not laughing at you. Just…” She turned, shared a look with her husband. “Mason’s being protective of our friends. That’s all. You can hurt Channing and Heather easily, and they’re not usually people we worry about getting hurt. That’s all.”
That was… “That’s insulting.”
Both of them straightened at that.
“They’re my family. Who’s yours?” I shot back.
“They’re family to us too,” the guy said.
I directed my gaze at him, now finding my footing. “I don’t care how rich you are, how famous you are, how close you think you are to my brother, to my future sister-in law. You fuck with them, betray them, I don’t care what you do, but if the end result is pain for them, I will hurt you. I don’t know how, but I will. That’s my warning.”
Anger flared inside of me, but it was mixed with other emotions like relief. These guys were doing what I did to protect mine. That was unnerving, but in a good way.
After that, the odd serene feeling came back, fluttering through me, calming me.
She quieted, watching her man.
He was watching me, and then he nodded and stepped forward. His hand stretched out. “Sounds good to me. I’m Mason. We’re here for your graduation party, so congrats.”
My graduation party. I’d forgotten for a few minutes. Shit. That meant more of these people were coming, because I knew Heather had closed Manny’s down and invited nearly everyone in Roussou and Fallen Crest.
I was suddenly wary again, shaking his hand. “There’s more of you guys coming? A Logan and Matteo?”
I’d met Logan, but it’d been brief. No interaction like this.
She tipped her head back and laughed.
Even he was grinning. “Logan’s going to love you. He raved about how you were at the station.”
“This is why Channing and Heather have kept us away from her. She’s like us, Mason.”
He grunted, but there was a small grin there. “Yeah. This will be interesting, to say the least.”
I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I’d
never officially met Logan Kade. I’d heard about him. I hadn’t heard of Matteo, but Nate sounded vaguely familiar.
I felt like I was wearing new skin.
Everything was changing, and I couldn’t handle it.
“I think I’m going to go rescue my friends from Heather. It was nice to meet you both.” I paused. “Samantha and Mason.”
They nodded and moved aside as I went down the stairs, heading for the back of Manny’s.
Another change for me? I truly meant that. I’d not been impressed with what they said, because words were empty to me. But actions and behaviors spoke to me, and them being worried about Channing and Heather, that said something to me. I liked it. I respected it.
“Come on, Heather!” I heard Zellman shouting inside Manny’s. “I did a petition and got a thousand people to sign that you should give us free rum.”
I was grinning even before opening the back screen door.
“Oh, really?” Heather huffed. “And who are these thousand signatures from? Your left and right hand alternating?”
Z was quiet. That gave her the answer.
“My God. Really? And why are you trying to sneak booze from here? You can get alcohol anywhere. Be like normal underage teenagers and sneak it somewhere else. At least work for your alcohol.”
“That’s what I was trying to do. You got in the way. And besides, your stuff’s the best quality around.”
I went down the hallway and was almost past the bathrooms and the office when a door opened. A hand shot out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside.
“Wha—”
A mouth was on mine, silencing me.
It wasn’t any mouth. I knew that mouth. I’d felt it this morning, and I rose on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and I opened mine in return.
All the weird stuff disappeared, and need, hot and yearning, need took its place.
Cross pulled back. “I fucking wish, but not here. Not in Heather’s office.”
I gave the room a quick scan. He was right. There was a sign positioned in the corner that said Chef Rules To Follow: Don’t let anyone pasta away.
I shook my head. “That must’ve been a gift. Why would anyone choose to put that in their office?”
Cross dipped his head down, peppering kisses over my throat. “If we weren’t here to celebrate you, I’d make up some excuse for us to ditch. I think we should have a day, just you and me, where we do that. Where we celebrate each other. You game? We could go somewhere. Alone. Just be. You know?”
It sounded heavenly. “I’m game.”
We hadn’t talked much the night before when he’d crawled into bed. He’d been at another family dinner, except this one had just been family. No significant others. The mom. The dad. Taz and Cross. I didn’t think Blaise was included, and Cross had been quiet this morning. And then Heather had asked me to come early and help her pick out last-minute decorations since the party was for me.
I cupped the side of his face, my thumb running down his cheek. “How’d last night go?”
His arms tightened around me, and a shadow crossed his face. “It was what it was.”
I waited, but he didn’t add anything. Giving his chest a tap, I tipped my head back. “Hey. It’s me. Talk. Let me in.”
His eyes lifted. They were so hooded, so haunted, that my heart sank.
He closed them again. “Taz is going to Grant West, and what you said came true. My mom is leaving with her. She’s going to buy a house there, settle in, get a job.”
I waited, but nothing.
My hand flexed on his chest. “And your dad?”
“He’s here.” He looked up again. “What else is there to say?”
Kids went away to college. Parents stayed back. That was to be expected. I didn’t think Cross was feeling the pain of that. It was the fact that his entire foundation was shifting under his feet. He had no home to come back to, but then I thought about it, and he did. It was me. It was here. It was Zellman and Jordan.
“Where’s Blaise going to college?”
“Cain.”
“Are you serious?”
He nodded, his face grim. “He was supposed to go somewhere in the east. Don’t know why he switched.”
“You think it’s because you’re going there?”
Cross was silent, and then shook his head. “No. The two times our paths crossed since that dinner, he hasn’t given me the time of day. My guess is there’s some other reason he switched.”
Cross hadn’t said anything more about his brother, or his parents, or even his sister. I asked every few days, and he responded, but the answers were like this. He was letting me in, he just wasn’t fully letting me in. There was an ocean of stuff in there about his family, but I’d be here when he was ready. And I knew it’d come out at some point. Everything did.
I smoothed a hand down his chest, hooking into his jeans. “After tonight. You and me. Yeah?”
He nodded, resting his forehead against mine. He breathed out, “Sounds perfect.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
We could hear Heather walk past us, saying something about Zellman. Her words were muffled, but it was enough to remind us where we were.
“It’s your party today,” Cross said.
“It is. All of Heather and Channing’s friends are here too. Or they’re coming.”
Cross sighed, separating from me. “It’s going to be a long night.”
It would. I patted his chest. “But hey, we have another party to look forward to at the end of the summer. Early screening of the documentary. Can’t wait for that.” I was being sarcastic and cheerful and yep, totally faking it here.
Cross’ eyes widened in mock horror. “Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?”
I laughed. “Didn’t you know? That bitch graduated high school. She’s long gone by now.”
We moved to head out, and Cross ran a hand down my back. He leaned in, kissing the side of my forehead. “Never change, will ya? I really love this Bren.”
I leaned into him, my insides warming and melting. “What are you talking about? I am changing.”
“No.” He stopped me, suddenly serious. “You’re just removing some of the baggage, and the real you is coming out. You’re brighter, shinier, and you’re starting to glow, but you’re still Bren.” His eyes darkened. “I really need you right now.”
My throat swelled, and I whispered, “I’ll always need you.”
He leaned down, and his lips found mine.
We stayed in Heather’s office a bit longer.
Three months later
The girl on the screen sat on a stool in front of a black background, with a single light pointed at her. One camera. One producer. That was all.
Her hair was down, though she wore no makeup. A white top. Jean shorts. Black boots. A sweater had been placed over her shoulders because she was cold.
That girl was Bren.
That girl was me.
I’d been raw that day. This video, it wasn’t what I wanted, but I used it. I turned it into something I wanted in the end.
I watched myself as I looked down for a moment, my hair falling forward, and when I looked up, I left it there. I had darkened my hair, almost black. I didn’t know why at the time, but seeing it now, it blended with the background. Maybe that’d been my intention? A last attempt to blend in, not step forward? Or maybe I just wanted my face to stand out more.
I didn’t know, but I liked it. My hair had grown longer too.
Maybe, just maybe, I was trying to become a new Bren. I was trying to put the old one behind—the one who wanted to stay in Roussou forever, who didn’t want to grow up, who was so scared of the future she’d almost stopped believing it would come.
Maybe.
Either way, there I was. On a stool. Getting ready to pour my heart out. Then Becca asked me a question and my back straightened.
Becca’s voice came from off-camera. “You asked to
be interviewed. What made you decide to do this?”
“Because the other side needs to be told.”
“And what side is that?” she asked.
“It was for protection. That’s why the crews were started. Not to be a gang. Not for violence. Not for power. It was simply to push back against power.”
“What happened back then?”
“A guy wanted to rape a girl. That’s the root of the crews. A bad guy wanted to rape an innocent girl, and a group rallied against that bad guy. They wouldn’t stand for it, so they fought back, and that was when the first crew started. The New Kings Crew. My brother’s crew.”
“There’s been a lot of pushback by your school’s administration against the crew system. They said you guys are violent and a danger to their students’ safety. What do you think about those statements?”
Watching myself now, I didn’t see how I’d tensed. I didn’t see how I’d felt so sad hearing the same thing over and over again. Instead, I saw my head lift higher, my shoulders firm. I seemed more determined, fiercer, and I heard how strong my words came out.
“Ask the students if they’ve feared us.”
“We have.”
“What’d they say?”
There was silence for a moment, then, “They said there’s an element of the crews that they fear, but they know you guys will protect them, and that’s given them a sense of security.” There was another pause. “Almost every single student did say they were glad they went to a high school that had the crew system. You guys didn’t target them, you mostly kept to yourself, but if something were to happen, you were there to help.”
Onscreen, I was nodding. That was nothing new.
“When our crew started, I was the first female to join one,” I said. “People were cruel. People asked if I was the whore for the guys. If I was the group slut. It was the opposite. My crew set the precedent that we don’t see gender. A female member is a crew member. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. I wasn’t less. Then another girl joined a crew, and I was told it was the same with them. Every crew is different. We don’t all follow the same guidelines or rules, but the core of each crew is protection and loyalty. You protect each other, and you’re loyal to each other.”