Always Crew

by Tijan

  I kept going until I came to a small clearing and looked out.

  It overlooked a row of houses.

  They were bigger than the ones in Roussou, much bigger. Each had a pool. A couple had pool houses, but I could see into their backyards. One of the houses had a woman and a group of young children playing, running, and jumping into the pool. There was another young woman talking to the other, sitting at a back table, overlooking the kids, but mostly talking to each other. There was a whole spread of food and drinks on another table. Balloons. A cake. Presents. Party hats.

  It was a birthday party.

  Another house had a couple kids floating in their pool, tanning, and talking.

  I could hear their conversation, but it was a low murmur. I could only pick out a word here and there. Another house had a woman, retired age working on the shrubbery by her house. Still another had an older lady relaxing, sitting at a table, and her head pointed upwards to the sun.

  I sat, feeling something settling inside of me, and I just watched.

  It was a minute later, maybe five, perhaps longer, until I moved to start eating. I’d fallen into some form of a trance, watching them, seeing their lives, their homes. The normalcy. They seemed content, almost every single one of them. I knew they weren’t, though. They couldn’t be. Lives were messy, lives weren’t perfect.

  There were always deeper emotions. Feelings, thoughts that were under the surface, sometimes acknowledged and most often ignored. But those feelings, those thoughts were there, and they directed what was on the surface. People crying and not knowing why. People hurting others and not understanding what they’re doing. Words spoken, judgments passed. All of it was guided from what was sitting just under the surface, but observing these people, they were content.

  On the surface.

  And who knows, maybe that ran deep inside and they truly were in a good place.

  But I was betting they weren’t. Who was, really?

  But these people. The big houses. Retired. Just starting to live. Just starting adulthood. From the outlook, it looked as if they had everything they wanted, but so many never really felt that way. They always wanted more.

  I sighed.

  I was here. Why?

  I was watching these people. Why?

  I thought I’d been getting better. I thought I felt normal for the first time in a long time, even when I couldn’t remember the last time, but I was still here.

  I was seeing a mom with children, wishing that were me. I was seeing a retired woman and wondering if she had kids. If she did, how many? Were her kids happy? Were they also content?

  I still missed her.

  I had to scoff at myself because I thought I was okay with it, not having my own mother. I missed her. I loved her, and I thought I had closure at losing her. Perhaps not? Was that why I was here again? Still looking for her, but knowing I couldn’t, so I sought out a replacement? Is that what this was?

  If I couldn’t look for my own mother, then I was looking for other mothers?

  Or maybe it was their homes?

  I didn’t know. I just knew that I came here with a feeling in the middle of my chest, and it grew, and grew, and grew until I found this clearing, and now the feeling was spreading through me.

  I was still not normal.

  That was depressing.

  I sighed, letting the sound carry from me as I reached for my drink. Lifting the bottle, I saluted the families that I was watching and tipped my head back.

  Then I waited.

  ZELLMAN

  When you get a text from Bren with coordinates, you don’t question it. You show up.

  I learned that lesson long ago, maybe in seventh grade. Bren was a chick who didn’t waste words. She didn’t need attention. She didn’t do anything that was extra. She was not a normal chick, and I knew, I’ve always known that I’d never meet someone like her. Ever.

  So here I was.

  Pulling up by her truck, her coordinates farther up, and I was sloshing my way through these woods.

  That’s another thing about Bren. Trees. She liked ’em. Trees were her thing. That and spying on people. She and Cross didn’t think we knew, but we did. We knew about her ‘spot’ back in Roussou. Doesn’t take a fricking genius. It was overlooking her old house, and Bren was haunted by that. Like, literally. Ghost of her mom. Ghost of losing her brother, though, she got the righteous guy back, and then you know, the whole shit and caboodle thing with her dad. That’s a brain exploder if I ever heard of one, so I guess I wasn’t too surprised to find my crew member sitting in a ball, her knees pulled to her chest, her gaze staring out over some rich folks’ houses.

  And they were rich.

  Pools, shiite.

  One day I was hoping to get a house like that. It’d be better than the trailer I grew up in, though I couldn’t gripe too much about it. My grandma and my older sister kept it cleaned. Outside the trailer might look like crap, but inside was nothing but class. Then again, that’s how my women folk rolled, Bren too.

  “Yo.” I plopped down, settling in. The grass was lumpy, but I got comfy and glanced over.

  Bren was watching me, the side of her head resting on her knees and she had a half-smile.

  I looked in those eyes. Yeah. Haunted, but happy too. Happily haunted. It was a step up from the old Bren, and I nodded to myself, grunting. “I need to worry you’re going to break into one of those backyards and pick up all the pool toys?”

  She froze a second, her eyes big, and then she started laughing. “You know about that?”

  Another grunt. See. So much we knew that she didn’t think we knew. “I have my ways.”

  “That’s embarrassing.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I love the inner criminal saint you have inside of you.”

  Her cheeks were getting red.

  I made Bren blush. I felt like a fucking superhero for that feat.

  Then, I asked, “What am I doing here, Bren?”

  Her shoulders lifted, held, and lowered. Didn’t know why she needed to settle herself, but she did that often. She always seemed worried about someone or something. That would’ve exhausted me, but I wasn’t Bren. I cared about my grandma, my sister, Jordan, Cross, Bren, and Sunday. I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. Not Bren. She cared about the world while she was denying to herself that she did.

  “I wanted to ask about Sunday.”

  Left curve.

  I didn’t see that one coming.

  “I dunno. She’s okay, I guess. Haven’t heard about the baby.” And because I knew Bren, I added, “But that’s not really why you asked me out here.” I nudged her with my arm. Lightly. “Come on. Spill. What’s going on in our head?”

  She shot me another grin that was half a frown. Another look only Bren seemed to have perfected. Didn’t know how she did it, but I loved her for it. “Cross and I went back to Cougar Lanes. We broke in. He wouldn’t let me in a room, said I shouldn’t see it, and when we came back last night, he called Channing about it.”

  I waited, but she didn’t continue.

  Okay.

  Bren was saying things, giving me crumbs, but she couldn’t bring herself to really say what she needed to know or hear or be reassured about. I had to put my thinking hat on for this one.

  She told me what they did. Coolio. Breaking and entering was always a good time.

  Cross called her brother about it, so yeah, he found something out that would upset B. That’s a no-brainer and made sense with everything else happening. And here she was, finding a spot to watch over a bunch of homes like she used to, and I was the one she called.

  Why the fuck was I the one she called?

  I was thinking I needed to run down what she would’ve gotten from the other two…

  Jordan was Mr. Cut Off right now. He was in a dark place. Bren was usually in a darker place, so maybe she didn’t want to go to an even darker than normal place? And with Cross… yeah. I was thinking it would’ve been the same. The two o
f them were tight, but they were tense. Cross didn’t fuck around. He got to the point of shit, no matter the consequences, and then I could assume the two would move to the rabbit part of their relationship, because that was another thing J and I knew. B and C loved fucking. A lot. But cheers to them. Each person should get their rocks off as many times as they could.

  I felt it was a worthy mission for the world’s population.

  So. Me. I was back to me. I wasn’t as intense and dark as the other two. I could get there, mostly when I wanted to bust heads, but sneaking a peek at Brennie Bren, I wasn’t getting that vibe either.

  She didn’t want dark.

  That was it.

  That’s why I got called, and then I grinned, knowing instantly what she needed.

  I threw an arm around my girl and yanked her into my side.

  “Zellman!” She laughed.

  I ignored that ’cause I was just giving Bren what she wanted. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to smile, but she also didn’t want to avoid it anymore. That wasn’t her style either.

  That I could do, no problemo.

  “Okay. Let’s break this down.”

  She stiffened.

  “Your dad did something for you, something you say you were going to do, but I don’t buy it. I think you did what you did, and it was done.”

  She tensed now.

  Yep. I went all the way back, to the night her pops was arrested. Bren stabbed the guy, thought she’d do more, but I didn’t think she would. Her dad did, and so here we were.

  “Your pops, he decided to go the extra mile. Not you. You’re letting your own blame train rail you, if you get what I’m saying.”

  A whole lot more tense.

  I kept going, “Your dad went to the pen. That’s where people go who did what he did. Then he made some powerful friends, and their lawyers mixed with a bad cop and your dad got sprung. Whoop-de-doo, right? Right. Because no matter how you slice it, your dad’s free, but Brennie Bren.” I patted her far shoulder, bouncing her against my side. “I don’t know the details of your job stuff, but the arrest warrants were for your dad’s friends, not your dad. Your pops isn’t hiding. He’s doing what he’s doing back in Roussou, so I wouldn’t worry about it. You gotta trust some people, and one person I’d trust is your brother. If he calls and tells you to worry, he’ll call and tell you to worry. If he doesn’t, then I wouldn’t worry. You’re letting yourself get all eaten up inside about shit that I don’t think you should be.”

  She was silent, still tense, but not as bad as before. She picked at a piece of grass, pulling apart the blade. Her voice came out quiet. “And if they try to use me to get whoever they want to get?”

  Okay. I had to read between the lines again. She was talking about her job, or I was guessing.

  I held her tight against me, lowering my head so my chin was almost grazing the top of her arm and shoulder. “If they try doing that, then they ain’t the ones you want to move forward with. Simple as that.”

  She glanced sideways at me, peering a minute before her mouth twitched. “Why does it make so much sense when you say it?”

  I chuckled with one last squeeze before I let her go. “It’s my curse. Making shit make sense without the doom and gloom.”

  She laughed, but nudged my chest with her elbow. She did it softly, though. “Thanks for coming.” I nodded, all serious now. “For real, though, Bren. I don’t know what’s all going on, but I’d think your brother and father both wouldn’t want you worrying.”

  She nodded, straightening and wrapping her arms around her knees. She pulled them to her chest, her head laid on the top of them, as she turned my way. “I think it’s a conscious decision I have to make, not to worry. You know?”

  Yeah. I really knew.

  Her gaze shifted, growing more alert, and she lifted her head once more. “Is that what you’re doing with Sunday?”

  Nope. All my bullshit and hoopla, this was the reason Bren called me and not the others. Studying her, I don’t think she even knew it either.

  Sunday.

  There was also this damn pinching feeling, just behind my ribs. Didn’t know what it was. Thought a couple times about heading to the doc, but started to realize it only showed when I started thinking about Sunday. When she left my mind, so did the pinching. Now it was back, and I knew the source. That didn’t mean I liked it. It was still annoying.

  “Sunday never wanted me full time, not really.”

  Bren frowned. Concern darkened her gaze.

  I looked away. The pinching just got worse when I saw the pity. I didn’t need to be pitied.

  “I don’t know why, to be honest. Not sure if I just wasn’t good enough for her, or if it was something else. I always thought maybe she worried because she wasn’t in our crew, thought maybe why try going the distance if she couldn’t get all the way in? Tried to tell her once it wasn’t like that. I could have a girlfriend and she’d just have an automatic family, but nah. That was in school. She wanted to be popular, she told me later that she couldn’t fully be popular if she was dating me. She needed to date someone like Cross or Jordan.” I looked at her now, and the pinching tripled. Bren’s eyes were filled with concern. She was hurting for me. I added, my voice getting rough, “The leaders, ya know? The pretty boys, too.”

  “Zellman,” she breathed out.

  “I got it. I did. I’m not a leader, but damned sure if I’m not the guy they want backing them up.”

  “Zellman.” She grabbed my arm and leaned in close, almost right in my face. “When did she tell you this?”

  The pinching was now piercing me.

  I shrugged. “Don’t remember.”

  “When?”

  I did remember. Just wished I didn’t. “April, I think. Early May.” May 3rd, to be exact.

  “She was already pregnant.”

  Wait. What?

  I frowned at Bren.

  She was trying to hold back a grin. Her hand tightened around my arm. “She already knew by then she was pregnant. Drake had broken up with her. She was trying to push you away.”

  No…

  Could…

  Really?

  I scooted back. I didn’t know why, but I needed space. Bren let me go, watching me. Her little smile faded, slowly.

  “It was always on and off with us.”

  “Yeah, because Sunday’s kind of a bitch, but she’s always cared about you. I know that for a fact.”

  It hurt too much, thinking the other way. She was pregnant, man. Having another man’s kid, a guy who was also in the pen. A guy who was known to be a snitch, and we all knew it was only a matter of time how long he lasted in there.

  That was Sunday’s baby daddy.

  “Bren.” My voice broke. I shook my head. “I can’t—she can’t—”

  “It’s okay, whatever you’re thinking in your head. You do what you want, what you need, but Sunday’s not with you because you’re not considered alpha enough. That’s ridiculous, and you are a pretty boy, too. We can take a walk on your campus and I know you’ll get five numbers without even trying. That doesn’t happen to not-pretty boys, and you know it.”

  Well. Yeah. She had me there.

  I never had a problem getting a girl.

  I eyed her, half-grinning. “Did we just become best buds?”

  Bren started laughing.

  I added, “Cross and Jordan might have something to say about this. They won’t be happy. It’ll mess up the entire group’s dynamic. Does this mean I get to bone you?”

  Bren’s laughter stopped and her fist flew out. She landed a good solid one across my jaw.

  Too far. I rubbed at it, grinning at her. “There’s that line you keep mentioning.”

  “You think?”

  But she was smiling, and that was really the reason she called me.

  I did my job.

  CROSS

  “Dickweed.”

  I was leaving the library and sighed because, of course, we had psych together
earlier and he ignored me. He’d been ignoring me since we cut him out of handling Harper, but now my brother was wanting attention.

  I stopped. I considered it.

  Fuck it. I kept going.

  “Hey! I said DICKWEED!”

  I whirled around. “Keep fucking insulting me, and we’re going round two.”

  Blaise slowed to a stroll, that same damned fucking smirk there.

  He did it again.

  I wanted to deck him just for that.

  “What do you want?” I snapped, knowing we were getting attention and knowing some of them were giggling girls and frat douchebags, because when I was around my brother, we were attention magnets. His soccer stardom had been growing since we started school, and half the guys around knew Blaise from Zeke. Another idiot that I couldn’t stand, which brought me back to—why the fuck was I standing here?

  I turned, starting to leave.

  “Okay, okay!” Blaise was laughing. He held a hand up. “Jesus. Peace, fucker.”

  I growled. “Stop pissing me off, Blaise.”

  “I’m just messing with you.”

  “I’m just getting sick of it.”

  “Okay, okay.” He drew up next to me, lowering his voice. “Zeke texted me. Harper’s back and called a house meeting. Zeke’s worried about what’s going to go down there.”

  I drew up short. All kinds of alarms were starting to sound in my head. “I told him not to talk.”

  “Guess he stopped caring?”

  With everything going on with Bren and her job, Harper had somewhat slipped my mind.

  Blaise asked, keeping his voice low, “Anything new from the dad front?”

  I shook my head. “No, and if there was, Channing would’ve called.”

  “So what are you thinking?”

  What was I thinking? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  I started walking forward.

  “Hey.” Blaise darted to keep up with me. “Are you going to the frat house right now?”

  I threw him a frown. “Why would I do that?”

  “Why?” he scoffed at the same time a couple girls waved at him, saying hi. He ignored them. “Because your girl beat the shit out of him for your other friend because of his girl. Are you following the dots? You guys are involved.”