Romeo and the Angel: Impossible Crush Chronicles

by Leeann M. Shane

  I shook my head in severe shock. He was so, so stupid.

  A whistle rang out over the lot. Enrique waved us on.

  I grabbed Raf’s shoulder and shoved him toward the cars, my head spinning. He looked back at me before hopping into another car, giving me one of those heavy nods.

  That time, I nodded back.

  The energy in Patrice’s car was dark and heavy. I was sure anger was inside a lot of us. Growing up around it didn’t help. Doused in circumstances we couldn’t escape added to the problem. Toss in poverty and lost youth, and it was a wonder the city hadn’t burned to the ground yet.

  On the west side of Kings River, it didn’t look any different than ours. Run-down concrete buildings surrounded by the desert on all sides. Broken asphalt roads. Compacted, violence riddled neighborhoods. Tagging on almost every surface. What was different were the colors and the signs. I spotted a few Snakes, their tattoos on the sides of their necks rather than their left arm like ours. A snake wrapped around the letter W.

  My heart pounded being in their territory.

  My mouth dried.

  I should have kissed my Mama goodbye that morning and been nicer to the twins. I’d been in such a hurry to get to Rya’s place, I’d rushed them, dropping them off without even giving either of them a kiss on their heads. I wished I’d chosen Rya at lunch instead of my crew. That I could just tell her what I really felt and that it was hard to want something so bad fully knowing you’d never deserve it.

  It was strange how often I came to this place in my mind lately. The truth popped up when the stakes were high. I loved my family and I was trying my best, but it didn’t feel like it was working.

  I pictured Antony in my spot; my smart, insightful little brother in the back of a car going to fight a fight that wasn’t his. I pictured Gabby in the driver’s seat where Patrice was, a tattoo on their skin marking them for sin.

  I didn’t see a brotherhood. Not anymore. Maybe when I was a little boy and I looked up to my papa. Now, I saw a lead weight tied to my feet that demanded loyalty but threatened everything I loved on a daily basis.

  “You okay?” David asked, grinning wildly at me.

  I nodded. “Car sick,” I lied.

  “You should have sat in the front. Switch with him, Steph,” he ordered, and without hesitating the girl in the front seat moved toward the center. I ducked under her arm, sinking into the passenger seat.

  My nausea didn’t lessen. I tried to turn it into anger. But I wasn’t even mad anymore.

  I was numb.

  We drove by the west side high school, eerily similar to ours. We passed deep into the territory, coming up on a park near the city’s namesake. The Kings River ran through the mountains, a rushing, ruthless river that did more damage than it did good. There was a group of men hanging out, but they were wearing tied sneakers and brass knuckles. They were prepared for a fight. They expected us.

  David handed me a pair, the brass knuckles cool in my hot sweaty palm. I swallowed down the acid in my mouth and slid them on my right hand. Like a rush of Vikings, the Kings’ doors were open, and they ran full speed at their opponents. Blood lust and misplaced loyalty burning on their faces. I saw Raf in the middle and without giving myself time to think, I bolted from the car and followed him.

  Blood misted around me. Growling, screaming. Bones cracking. Flesh pounding flesh. It was like being stuck in the middle of a war zone without knowing how I got there.

  What was I even fighting for anymore?

  A heavy, brutal blow landed on the back of my head. I struggled to my feet, feeling the familiar rush of anger flow in my veins. I was just like them. All of them. That’s why I couldn’t escape.

  It’d be like escaping myself.

  I swung around with my elbow, following with a hard jab into the stranger’s face. But with a strange clarity I recognized the crooked nose, the beady eyes; he was the same guy who’d chased Rya all the way up my porch. I didn’t give him a chance to recover. I pounced, sending my right hook into his nose repeatedly. I lost my ability to hear. My sights.

  All I saw was the fact that Rya saw the truth because of the monster beneath me.

  Chaos ensued around me.

  He landed an uppercut to my chin, jarring me. I recovered a second too late, giving him a chance to land another. I sent my knee into his ribs. This fight was personal.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Shouting surmounted, ringing in my ears. I tasted hot copper in my mouth.

  “Let’s go,” Raf demanded, pulling me away.

  I went right back, landing one last staggering blow to his face. I spit blood at his feet and grabbed him up by his collar, putting our faces close. His was bloody. I was bloody. There was probably a lot about us that was similar. But there was a lot that wasn’t. “Come near any of my girls again, and nothing will stop me from making sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

  Enrique tore me off, dragging me to a random car and following me in. Everyone was hyped, showing off their wounds like honor badges. I hummed, vibrating with sick disgust.

  I felt disgusted.

  Covered in someone else’s blood.

  Covered in mine.

  “Sergio’s going to be pleased that you were down for us today.” Enrique held out his fist.

  I knocked my bloody fist against his.

  I’d reopened the wounds on my hand. Rya’s bandages were gone.

  The drive back to the east side was a blur of acid and chaos. The caravan pulled into our neighborhood and everyone headed down the cul-de-sac, where the elders waited.

  When I got out, Sergio gave my appearance a long onceover, finally meeting my eyes with a deep, approving nod. “Come celebrate.”

  “Gabby and Antony,” I mumbled, too out of it to form regular sentences. “They’re waiting for me.”

  “Come over when you’re done then and put some ice on that. It’s nasty.” He pressed onto a cut on my face, making me hiss.

  With the bolt of pain, it brought forth a wave of more. I stumbled home, the adrenaline wearing off. I ached all over, mostly in my ribs and face. I came home to find Diego sitting in the living room, Gabby and Antony’s backpacks on the floor.

  When our eyes locked, his were unreadable.

  “You picked them up?”

  “The school called when no one showed up to get them, and I was here. They’re in their room.” He got up but stopped before he reached me. “You know who you look like right now?”

  “Who?” I asked, dreading his answer.

  “Papa.”

  I ground my teeth together. “And you, brother? Who do you look like?”

  Diego’s hollow gaze latched onto mine. “I look like nothing, so you could become something. Go take a shower and clean yourself up.” He brushed past me for the front door.

  Too numb to let him get to me, I tore my clothes off in the bathroom as fast as I could, stepping under the hot spray of water. I scrubbed myself clean.

  When I stepped out, I examined myself.

  There was a fat slice under my left eye that was wide open. My bottom lip was split. There was a gash over my right eyebrow. A black eye was already forming. Bruises snaked up and down my ribcage.

  I hated the burning liquid in my eyes. I hated the fact that I couldn’t even face myself more.

  I did look like my dad. I’d lost count of how many times he came home bruised and bloodied, with lost, haunted eyes just like the ones I now wore.

  Dripping water, I wrapped the towel around my waist and went into my room, dressing for work. With shaking hands, I tied my shoes and went back inside to face the twins.

  I opened their door to find them both reading. Gabby was on her bed and Ant was on his, faces immersed. So innocent, I had to choke back a sob. Before they could see me, I closed the door and jogged out front to the neighbor’s place. I asked if she’d watch them at our place, and after taking one look at my face, she nodded sadly.

  She grabbed my face and kissed both my c
heeks, saying a prayer for me.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, looking up at the sky.

  I needed all the prayers I could get.

  Thankfully that night, I spent my shift in the back unloading a delivery. The heavy lifting did nothing for my sore ribs, but at least it kept my boss from seeing me. When my shift was over, I dreaded going home. I could hardly pull in a breath.

  And I needed one.

  Desperately.

  I wasn’t surprised when I ended up at Rya’s place. It wasn’t even conscious at that point. It was second nature. I eased onto her front curb and pulled out my cell phone, shooting her a text.

  Me: Got anymore rubbing alcohol?

  I stared up at the moon. It was full that evening, big and bright in the dark, night sky. My phone hummed with an incoming text.

  Rya: Who did you punch now?

  My fingers moved on their own. I didn’t stop them. Didn’t prevent them from saying exactly what they wanted to say.

  Me: I need to see you, Rya. Right now. Please, Angel.

  My phone rang a second after I saw that she’d read my message. I didn’t even say hello. I answered it and brought it to my ear.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Romeo, talk to me.”

  “I can’t breathe,” I gasped, trying and failing to pull in a breath.

  “Where are you?”

  “In your driveway.”

  She paused. “You’re in my driveway right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Suffocating.”

  Her breath hitched. “My dad is home. He’s not in a good mood tonight. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea if you come inside.”

  My heart dropped so hard, I was surprised it didn’t break. “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “If you can’t see me, I get it.”

  I didn’t get it.

  She sighed, the tail end of her sigh wobbling. “Why do you sound so sad?”

  “Sad?” I laughed emotionlessly. “You’re so innocent, Rya. So naive in a way that’s addicting. You’re good. So good.” I forced air in my lungs. “Sneak out.”

  “Romeo.”

  I held my breath; I couldn’t breathe anyway.

  “Come to my bedroom window,” she conceded. “The side gate is unlocked. It’s the first window.”

  I hung up and squeezed around her mom’s car, tugging on the gate handle. I closed it softly behind me and stopped at the first window, spotting her beautiful face on the other side of the pane.

  I hated the horror in her eyes when she saw me. The window flew up and she shoved her head out. “What the heck happened to your face? Did someone do that to you? Romeo! You need stitches. Look at your handsome face.” A spark moved into her eyes. “Who did that to your face? I love your freaking face!”

  I forced a smile. “So I’ve heard.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You look so hurt.”

  My forced smile fell. “I’m fine. I just wanted to see you. Needed to see you.” I sighed shakily. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  She wiped at her eyes. “Like what?”

  “Like my hurt hurts you. I don’t need that tonight.”

  She reached out of her window to grasp my hands in her gentle, soft grip. I closed my eyes, melting into her touch. “Your hurt does hurt me, stupid.”

  “I’m sorry I keep coming to you like this.”

  “Shh. Romeo, breathe.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Do you need to go to the Rush Ruins?”

  Her question sent my eyes opening. “You think I need some old, dusty city to breathe? Rya, I don’t need that place to breathe. I only need you.”

  Her lips opened. And with the tears still shimmering in her scared, concerned eyes, she looked just like an angel. Haloed by the lights of her bedroom, surrounded in her sweetness. I wanted to stand close to her. Douse myself in her light.

  “Go. I’ll cover for you.”

  Rya turned around to look at her sister. “Really?”

  Kenzie nodded, giving my bruises barely a glance. “Go. Just answer my call when I call you. And don’t stay out forever. I’m not going to sleep until you get back.”

  Turning back to me, Rya looked torn. I loved that torn look in her eyes. It meant one thing: she cared about us both. And that was beautiful. A girl like Rya would never let some dishonorable tie to loyalty ruin her. She was loyal because that’s just who she was. Not who she had to be.

  “I need to put my shoes on.”

  “And a sweater,” I murmured, resting my arms against her window sill, trying and failing not to study the swell of her breasts in her braless camisole.

  I watched her tug on her sneakers and plunge a gray hoodie on over her head, making her already messy bun messier. Kenzie locked their bedroom door and sank down on her bed, glancing at me. I’d never tell her what Raf said. What he sacrificed. It wouldn’t change anything.

  It wouldn’t fix what he broke.

  Or the rest he’d have to shatter.

  Rya swung one flannel pajama clad leg over and sank onto her butt, swinging her other leg over and ducking her head out. I placed my hands around her waist and picked her up easily, trying not to laugh at her shocked squeak. I set her down and then took her hand.

  “Be back soon,” she whispered to her sister.

  Kenzie shut the window softly.

  “Where are we going?” Rya gripped my hand as tightly as I gripped hers. All mine.

  I held open the gate. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

  We crept alongside her mother’s car, slipping past the neighbor’s shrubs and out of sight of her house. When we got to the street corner, I stopped.

  She hung close to me, looking at me as if I were the leader. As if I had the answers. Truth was, tonight I only had one. And she was it.

  Still holding her hand, I gave in to the intense exhaustion warring inside. I collapsed onto the curb, pulling her down with me. She slid close, resting her head on my shoulder. My eyes closed and I turned, pressing my nose into her hair. I stayed that way for a long time. Cars drove up and down the street, the bass of their stereos breaking the silence before it faded into the night. Someone nearby was frying meat and the scent of spices filled the air.

  When I was calm enough to talk, I straightened, taking a deep breath that finally didn’t ache. “Thank you,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I needed this.”

  “What is this exactly?”

  “You.”

  “Me,” she confirmed, peeking shyly at me from the corner of her eye. She looked away, out into the street. “Romeo,” she began, her breath blowing out before she continued, as if she were psyching herself up. “What happened tonight?”

  I’d never had to do this before. Never had to explain to someone who wasn’t from my world what it was like to survive inside of it. But I found it eerily compelling, spilling my guts to her. She had a hard time facing me as I did so, because of my wounds or because of something else, I didn’t know. When I finished, she tucked her shaking hands in the front pocket of her hoodie, her teeth pressed so deep into her bottom lip I was worried she’d bite through the soft flesh.

  “Talk to me, Angel.”

  “I hate this.” She flicked her eyes my way; the tears in them shimmered under the moon. “I don’t like it.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it!” she exploded. “I hate that you have to fight. That was stupid. So dangerous and stupid. What if they had guns? Knives? They would have killed you guys.”

  I was taken aback by her vehemence, but mostly because it showed how screwed up what I did was. “I was defending you.”

  She snorted. “Don’t use me as an excuse to become what you hate, Romeo.”

  “They attacked you too. I was protecting you.”

  “No, you already did that the night it happened. Perfectly well. Going in search of them today wasn’t about me.” She sniffed, so angry her chin was quivering. “That d
oesn’t make me feel good. Knowing you were out there beating another human being. It makes me feel even worse knowing they were hurting you. I’m not happy or proud about what you did. I’m kind of ashamed.”

  I was stuck. I hadn’t expected that response from her. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. It felt like she’d punched through what little bit of good that had still managed to exist after the day I had. And it pissed me off. “You’re ashamed of me?”

  “Not of you. But I am of your actions.” Her furious, tear-soaked eyes could hardly meet mine. “What if you got seriously hurt? Permanently hurt? Would that be about me then?”

  The horrible part was, she wasn’t wrong. I’d felt exactly what she was saying today. “Rya, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to be with you, but there’s only so many times you can tell Sergio no before he turns that no into no choice.”

  Even to my own ears I sounded pathetic. It sounded like I was giving her excuses. When that wasn’t what I was doing… was it? Was some part of me already becoming a member of the Kings? Doing things for the wrong reasons because the right ones were no longer an option? The prospect of that being true freaked me out.

  “Who’s Sergio?”

  If I told her the truth, that my family was indebted to the Kings and no matter what I did I’d go down with them, she’d never talk to me again. I should want that. It was better for her. To get up and go inside of her house and never associate herself with me again. But even with all of that, the possibility of never being able to breathe again sent my heart into a state of panic I’d only ever felt once. When I found out I’d never see my father again.

  “Tell me,” she urged. “If you’re going to beat a man in my honor, the least you could do is be honest with me.”

  I cringed. “I can’t talk about that here.”