Crew Princess

by Tijan

  Yep. He thought that move was for him.

  Cross laughed in my ear. “You know I don’t give a shit about her.”

  I glared at her as I said, “It’s the principle of it. She should instinctively fear me.”

  He laughed again. “Not respect you. Fear you.”

  I leaned against him. “You know it.”

  He moved so my back rested against his chest. His arm came around me to rest on my stomach, and he looked down as I was suddenly tipped up to him. Our lips were inches away—and who was that girl again? She fled my mind. I focused solely on Cross, so much that Taz had to hit my leg to get our attention.

  I felt the hit and reacted without thinking. I had her wrist in a hold before either of us registered what had happened. A blink of an eye, and I had her in my grip. She hadn’t enough time to sit back.

  Race’s eyebrows went up. Taz’s mouth dropped.

  Even Zellman noted it, and he was blitzed already. That said a lot.

  Letting her go, I leaned back into Cross. “Sorry, Taz. I—”

  “Nope. That was on me. I know not to hit you, and I forgot.” But she was uneasy about it. I could tell when she wouldn’t meet my gaze right away.

  Race pulled her close. He lifted his chin in greeting. “So, the girlfriend didn’t come for pictures today. I’m sure you were relieved to see that?”

  It took a second, but he was speaking to Cross. Not about Cross’ girlfriend, but Cross’ dad’s girlfriend.

  Oooh.

  I glanced up at Cross, who had stiffened beneath me. His free hand went to my leg, and he began fiddling with my dress.

  “Yeah. A nice relief.”

  “But you’ll meet her tomorrow.”

  Why was Race bringing this up now? I threw him a frown, but it clicked. Taz’s eyes were glued to Cross, who was not looking at her. She seemed to be studying him to get some answers, and I was starting to think maybe she knew about their half-brother?

  Race’s gaze jumped to mine, and I jerked back. Oh yeah. They were looking for something. That something flared in his gaze at my reaction, and I bit the inside of my lip. Fuck. Cold-as-ice crew member I was not at that moment.

  Well, fine. Two could play that game, and I smiled at Race, who visibly tensed.

  “How’s it going with your dad?” I asked. “I haven’t seen much of Alex lately. Everything good there?”

  Taz sucked in her breath. The people around us stilled, listening in.

  Cross lifted his head, glancing between me and Race. He noticed Taz then, a slight sheen of tears in her eyes.

  “Why would you ask that?” she asked.

  “Why do you think?” I shot back.

  Race lowered his head. He slouched in his seat and angled his body, so he wasn’t fully facing us anymore. Taz reached out and laced their hands together.

  She looked down, playing with his thumb. “That’s not cool of you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And his question was?”

  I expected Taz to drop it. I wasn’t trying to be hurtful. I just wanted my message sent and received, but she spoke again, surprising me.

  “There’s more to the story. Things my brother needs to deal with, and you can’t always jump in for him. It’s family stuff.” She lifted her gaze, looking sad but also defiant. I saw a flicker of fire in those eyes, same as her brother’s. “And I miss my brother.”

  Her look was for me. Her words were for him.

  Cross noted it. “Enough,” he said. “Drop it.”

  She opened her mouth, but Zellman chose that moment to stagger over and stumble onto our laps. He winked before pushing himself up and stealing a place between Cross and me.

  “Hey, guys!” He lifted his arms around Cross and me. “I miss my guys. Bren, you’re a dude now to me. No more of that other stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows, but I saw some sober in him. He knew what he was doing.

  “Z,” I murmured.

  “Dude?”

  “If you don’t slow down on the Jack, you’re going to pass out,” I told him. “You’ll miss prom.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed, sinking down in the seat. He kicked his legs out. “Jordan switched me to water. Stupid water. Sober water. No-booze water. You get my drift?”

  Oh, we were getting it.

  “So, who’s going to do a body shot on me?” he asked, lifting his shirt.

  We got off the bus at a nice restaurant in Fallen Crest. It was new, recently opened, and I knew Heather had been worried at one point about how Manny’s would be impacted because of it.

  Looking around, noting the fancy glasses, the rest of the customers and how they stiffened and threw horrified looks our way, I knew she didn’t need to be concerned. People were people. People liked to let loose and get drunk, not be prickly and stuck-up. Her place would continue to kick ass.

  I recognized one of the servers when she came to our end of the table.

  Slender, her blond hair pulled up in a tightly wrapped bun, absolutely perfect. Her uniform was a white button-down shirt over black dress pants.

  “Ava?”

  She paused, looking over. “Oh, hey, Bren.” She looked around the table. “You all look great.”

  I shared a look with Cross. Zellman and Jordan glanced at me. They recognized her too.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Tabatha laughed, reaching for her water. “She’s obviously working, Bren. How much have you had to drink?”

  I ignored her. “You’re working three jobs?”

  Ava stiffened, biting her lip. “Uh… It’s not that bad. The money is good.”

  Fuck that. She worked nearly full-time at Heather’s place, and she picked up shifts at the pizzeria in Roussou. Now she was here? Was she trying to work herself to death? I remembered Heather talking about her, how her last boyfriend had been a jackass and now she had a nice new guy.

  Ava also went to our school, the school that had prom tonight, and she was working.

  I didn’t push it, and Ava seemed to relax as she filled the rest of the waters, then returned to take orders.

  When she came to me, I lowered my voice. “You’re not going to the dance tonight?”

  She froze. “I’m not a big dance person.”

  I called bullshit on that. I hated dances, and I was even going.

  Cross touched my arm, shaking his head just slightly. I knew what he was signaling, but it was wrong. I wasn’t going to let it go. I liked Ava. We weren’t friendly, but I knew she was a good worker. She was quiet, did her studies. She didn’t have a lot of friends, and thinking on it now, I didn’t know who she hung out with at school. She didn’t seem to hang out with anyone outside of school either. She worked.

  “Roy.”

  She lifted her head from her order tablet. “Hmm?”

  “That’s your boyfriend’s name. Roy, right?”

  Her eyebrows lowered. “Uh. Yeah.” An uneasy laugh. “He’s working too. What would you like to order?”

  I told her, handing over my menu, and when she left, Tabatha asked, not so quietly, “You know her?”

  Ava paused, her shoulders stiffening.

  Jordan elbowed her. “Tact, babe.” He nodded toward me. “She’s Bren’s friend. Obviously.” Then he got pulled into conversation with the guys on his other side.

  Tabatha was still frowning. “Yeah. I know, but that girl’s a loser. She used to be on mock trial.” She snorted, laughing by herself. “Can you believe that? Mock trial.”

  This. Right here. This was why Tabatha and I were still a work in progress.

  Taz had been quiet since the party bus, but she jerked her head up now. “Fuck off, Tabatha.”

  Tabatha gasped.

  Jordan turned back, his eyes wide.

  Zellman had been mid-belch, but quieted it, pressing a fist to his mouth.

  “What did you say?” Tabatha asked.

  Race started to speak, but Taz leaned forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I said fuck off. If you want to be f
riends with us, you need to pull the superiority stick from your ass. We don’t put up with that shit.”

  Tabatha sat up in her seat. Her neck was red, and it was moving up her face. “Are you fucking kidd—”

  Race started to say something, again.

  He was interrupted, again.

  Cross beat him to it this time. “Are you delusional?”

  Tabatha looked like she’d been slapped in the face. The red drained, and she paled.

  “We’re not like that. I don’t care if you’re dating Jordan. You’re about to say the wrong shit to my sister. You’re stepping wrong. What you should’ve done is stepped right the first time by realizing Bren was talking to that girl for a reason. Bren cares about her, and that means she’s good people. Back off and learn your place.”

  Tabatha’s mouth hung open. A gargled sound escaped, and she turned to Jordan. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”

  “Babe.”

  “I’m your girlfriend—”

  “Babe.”

  “I don’t care who they are to you! They didn’t suck your dick before pictures today!”

  Zellman snorted, lowering his head, his shoulders bouncing up and down. The other guys weren’t as considerate. They outright laughed.

  Tabatha shot them a dark look. Sunday smacked Zellman’s chest with the back of her hand.

  “Sorry.” He coughed, reaching for his water. “Everything’s a little funnier right now.”

  “Shut it, Zellman!”

  “BABE!”

  “What?” Tab rounded back to Jordan, fisting a fork.

  Calm. Cool. Definitely smoothing it over, Jordan nodded toward our end of the table. “What you did was wrong. Taz is right. Cross is right. And Bren’s probably second-guessing your friendship right now.”

  It penetrated. You could see it. Tabatha still had the stung look on her face, and her cheeks puffed out like a blowfish, but after a few seconds, she suddenly deflated.

  About that time, Ava came back. She was placing a plate of appetizers in the middle of the table when Tabatha started.

  “Um…”

  Ava paused, her hand stretched out, stepping between Sunday and Zellman’s chairs.

  When Tabatha didn’t continue, Ava asked, “Did you need more water, miss?”

  Miss.

  Shit.

  Zellman started laughing again.

  “Shut it, Z!”

  “My friends call me Z. I’m Zellman to you.”

  Tabatha looked rocked, actually weaving in her chair. Her eyes filled with tears. “Ava.”

  Ava had stepped back by now. “Yes?”

  “As my friends have pointed out to me just now, I don’t know if you’re aware, but I have this problem…” She rolled her neck, lifting her chin, and shifting on her seat. “I’m a reformed stuck-up bitch. Or I’m trying to be, and I still have flare-ups when the stuck-up part shows it’s ugly head. I had one of those moments with you just now, and I am sorry.” She bit down on her lip. “For being a bitch to you.”

  Zellman gave her a nod of approval.

  “Uh. Okay. Thank you, but you were fine, miss.” Ava ducked her head. “I’ll be right back with the second appetizer.”

  Once she was gone, no one moved for the food. They were waiting.

  Tabatha looked down, her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I meant what I said. I’m trying to change.” She sought Taz out first, then Cross, then me. “Becoming friends with you guys is important to me. I wasn’t expecting to change, but after Jordan and I began dating, I fell in love with him. It just happened. But I have a ways to go, and I’m sorry again.”

  Now I felt uncomfortable.

  Being in a fight was my terrain. This—calling someone out and having them not only apologize, but be genuine—was foreign fucking land to me.

  Taz was smiling, beaming even.

  Race shrugged, reaching for his soda.

  Cross was eyeing me.

  Then everyone turned to look. I lifted my hands. “Okay?”

  Zellman started laughing. “There’s our girl, not knowing how to function. She’s used to beating the apology out of bitches like you.”

  “Dude,” Jordan admonished.

  “Right.” Zellman raised his water toward Tabatha. “You can call me Z again, and dude,” he said to Jordan, motioning to me. “That’s Dude. We’ve gone over this.”

  Everyone started laughing—even Tabatha, a little red in the face again. “You’re such a goof, Zellman.”

  He grinned. “That’s Z to you.”

  She smiled back, the lines around her mouth softening. “Z.”

  “And I won’t hear anything besides it.”

  Zellman was teasing, but he wasn’t wrong.

  I felt a lingering sense of unease through dinner.

  Tabatha had looked down on Ava for what? Working three jobs? Being in mock trial? I didn’t know what mock trial was, but it sounded better than anything I’d done in school. I was in a crew. That was it. These guys fulfilled both family and friend roles for me, but things were changing. I’d talked about growing with Cross, and I meant it, but that made me uneasy too.

  How far could you stick your neck out—trying to learn, push yourself, adapt, grow—before it was chopped off? It was different for Tabatha, for the Normals. Going to college was expected of them. I’d been in The Badger’s office when they came in, asking for help with college applications. They rattled off their options, weighing where they wanted to go. No problem at all.

  Not for me. Even the conversation filled me with terror, but I knew it was going to happen. Growing. Moving on. What then? If my guys left and I stayed back? What bitch like Tabatha would I have to deal with, looking down on me because I’d need to work three jobs too?

  When we finished dinner, we went back out to the party bus, headed for the dance this time.

  Cross came up behind me, placing his arm around my shoulders. “You were quiet in there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s going on?”

  What was going on with me?

  I didn’t have an answer for him. It was the same stuff I’d started talking about before, but I didn’t want to get into it here.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said.

  “Okay.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and we got on the bus.

  Turns out, I spoke too soon.

  My sides hurt from laughing.

  My feet hurt from dancing.

  My ears were ringing from the music.

  My head pounded. My dress was a mess. My makeup was nonexistent. My hair was a nest.

  But prom had been everything.

  I was shocked. All those years I’d avoided life, school, classmates, dances—maybe I shouldn’t have? I came out of the bathroom and headed for the parking lot—like I’d just texted Cross—as I considered that.

  No. It had been fun now because I was ready. Now. Not then. I’d needed only my crew then, and now, I was opening up, trying to accept others, not be so guarded.

  I was just passing the guy’s locker room when I heard the door open.

  I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t think anything of the empty hallway. I didn’t think anything of the low lights until I heard, “Bren.”

  A chill shot up my spine. My gut clenched. This wasn’t good, whatever was coming, because I felt it happening. It was like a train departing the station. It was heading right for me, and I knew no matter what, I couldn’t get off the tracks in time. And. That. Train. Wasn’t. Going. To. Stop.

  I turned and read it on his face.

  “Alex?”

  His face was haggard—bags under his eyes, and it seemed he hadn’t shaved in a week. He was dressed in a tux, but the coat was gone. His shirt was half unbuttoned, the tails pulled out. His pants were dirty, scraped at the bottoms, and in his hand, a full bottle of Jim Beam. He wasn’t even standing still. He staggered back into the door, hitting his head, and he didn’t say a word. He didn’t react.


  He didn’t feel it.

  But his eyes had a storm in them, and they wouldn’t leave mine.

  I should’ve gone. Walked away.

  But I took a step toward him. “What’s going on, Alex?”

  He shook his head, raising the bottle and peering at it as if it had magically appeared in his hand. “I warned you.”

  “Warned me? About what?”

  “About Drake.” He shook his head, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He started to fall, then slammed into the wall by the door. Now the door could swing shut behind him, and he stepped back, but the door wasn’t there. He backpedaled rapidly, slamming into the wall now.

  A hard hit. And still no reaction.

  He just raised the bottle again and pointed it at me. “I told you he wasn’t here for the reason he said he was here. Crew’s gone. They kicked Drake out. I’m out. It’s no longer a Ryerson crew.”

  I frowned. “They’re still a crew?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. I don’t. I’m out, been out since Taz.”

  Pain sliced over his face, and he closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I did to her. Shit went south. It went north, sideways, east, west. It was going all around, and I couldn’t get a handle.” He gulped, his voice thickening. “I should’ve gotten a handle. I ain’t bad, not all the way.”

  He pressed that bottle to his chest, hugging it. “I got bad parts, good parts. I’m trying to have more good than bad. I’m trying, Bren. I really am.”

  I took another step toward him, but I was tentative. My insides were on full alert, yelling at me to leave.

  “Alex.” I sighed. What could I actually do? “What’s going on? Just tell me.”

  “Drake.” He looked down. “It’s been all about you, and you never knew. You were supposed to be there. They were supposed to arrest you, but you weren’t. Or if you were, you got away. You hid. You messed up their plans.”

  God. This didn’t sound good.

  My phone was buzzing. That would be Cross, wondering where I was, but I couldn’t respond. This. This was important. If I pulled out my phone, it would break whatever this was. It was delicate, like thin ice. Any wrong move, a wrong word, and Alex would close up.