by Elena Monroe
We all broke out laughing when Vic took charge the way I knew he couldn’t avoid. I didn’t even care that he was stomping all over my territory, and I simply handed out the signs to everyone, while he started pointing and asking for shirt sizes.
Meadow bumped into me, giving me a side eye. “I get it now. He’s pretty… distracting.”
With my arm around her neck, we laughed, knowing I was a lost cause. Vic was irresistible, and I wasn’t immune.
I watched him step up onto the concrete wall blocking off the green from overthrowing the parking lot. He clapped his hands when I finally noticed he was dressed the same way as the night of the concert—like himself.
“Okay, troops, we’re here today to march to MacArthur Park in honor of the Rape Axe being legalized in the United States. If you get stopped by the cops, I want everyone to say their name is Rockefeller... Otherwise, let’s get out there.”
The troops were restless and started chanting my name, demanding my words like a ritual before we marched. Vic offered his hand, helping me jump up in our matching Converse, side by side, with my bullhorn hanging over my body like a crossbody purse.
Pressing the button on the mic, I simply said, “What he said.” Everyone laughed when I pressed it again: “Make sure you have a buddy. Meadow, Grace, Jasper, and I have walkies, so text one of us if you need us. Let’s go lose our voices!”
Vic jumped down first, pulling his hair into a messy bun and grasping my hips to lower me down. “How did you even do all of this? And saying Rockefeller so no one gets in trouble?”
“I’m conquest, baby. It’s what I do. Gonna be my buddy?”
Grimm and Bowen were still awaiting marching orders when I noticed Khaos already skateboarding ahead with his fist in the air reenacting Braveheart.
“You guys good?” He tossed their direction when taking my hand looking over my daisy duke shorts and white tank top that was clearly not doing much to cover up my nips showing through.
“I’m wearing a pink shirt with a dick on it. Do you think I’m okay?” Grimm’s voice fell flat, but he pushed Bowen ahead to start walking.
The giant group started walking ahead, while we stayed towards the back.
“It’s a controlled sense of war,” he said with the biggest grin a few minutes into marching, and it tugged my own lips into a smile.
He liked even this part of me, and that was making it easier to recognize what this is.
I didn’t want to admit it, feed it, but the feelings I avoided with cheap sex and shitty dates was giving me a middle finger.
No one has ever tried this hard to be anything more than cheap, and a lot of me liked how expensive he was making me feel.
No one was tired or complaining yet, which was a good sign, but when the police showed up, I started putting on my armor again. Protesting, even peacefully, didn’t have a good track record with law enforcement, and I especially didn’t.
I wanted to avoid Rodriguez as long as possible. I chose a side, and it wasn’t honoring some mutually beneficial relationship anymore. It was Vic.
Almost to the park, we stopped to protest outside of a political building, making a stance, shouting into the wind for change, when two of the people in the sea of hundreds decided to step out of the crowd. I watched these two girls in bandanas take out spray cans and defile the property spraying the words: pussy power.
My blood started pumping, and I felt like the only one seeing this. The police called out, and my feet took off running towards the girls before I could tell them to stop.
Throwing myself between them and the building, I made sure my finger was on the trigger of my pepper spray keychain. When you try to control anger, it never goes well, and telling people how to protest almost always results in violence, because the anger has to build to something.
“This is a peaceful march! What are you doing?!”
In a mocking tone, they replied with, “Rockefeller.”
I mumbled to myself, questioning why I even came over here to protect them, when clearly they were nothing but trouble that I should have left to be arrested.
The police came towards me, holding batons by their sides, and I put my hands up sacrificing myself for the cause, the same way I always did, as I turned to face them.
The middle-aged cop with a buzz cut had eyes filled with hate, while the bald cop beside him perked up at the thought of brute force. I suddenly missed the protection of Rodriguez when a baton came down, hitting the side of my leg with a force that I didn’t expect. I fell to my knees instantly, trying to explain faster than it was making sense. Vic was at my side quickly, but not quick enough, when they twisted me around gluing my wrists together and I felt the cold metal snap around them too tightly.
“Why are you still standing here with fucking spray paint? Leave!” I shouted at the girls, who were in shock and stuck to the ground where I found them.
“Let her go!” Vic barked, standing just as powerfully as they did in all their gear.
The two cops laughed in his face when they asked for my name, completely ignoring his demands. “Justice Fritz.”
I knew better than to play the hard way; that only left more marks than the one I had already blooming red on the outside of my thigh clashing with my pink Converse.
The one cop slapped the back of his hand against the other guy’s chest, “That’s Rodriguez’s girl. I’ll call him in.” With my cuffs still in his hands, putting pressure on my wrists, I heard him call in 444 for Rodriguez, while he waited for a response.
444? That’s what I boiled down to?
Pushing me down to the sidewalk, the bald cop forced me to sit down, and I complied with very little push back. Vic was pacing and didn’t stop making demands.
I want to speak to your captain.
Where’s Rodriguez?
Victory Rockefeller… might wanna run that by your captain.
After a few minutes of them ignoring him and me sitting in this awkward position, a cop car came pulling up with the lights and siren on, like there was a much worse crime in progress than me sitting here.
Rodriguez addressed his buddy cops, before saying one word to me in a quiet tone, then resuming a normal tone. “I’ve got it from here, boys… Justice, we can’t keep doing this.”
Kneeling down he undid my cuffs, while I sat there still.
Good, make him get his crispy uniform all dirty.
“This is bullshit, and you know it. Your fucking buddy here hit me with his baton when I wasn’t even resisting,” I growled out the words, already ready to explode.
“You need to calm down. You’re breaking the law. Spray painting a government building? Seriously? I’m not always gonna be around to protect you.”
Standing up and rubbing my wrists together, trying to shake off the feeling of being restrained, not the actual cuffs.
“I had it fucking handled. I was stopping them. I don’t need you to protect me because your dad felt bad for the girl who has dead parents. I’m not a charity case.”
Rodriguez looked at Vic and then over his shoulder at his cop buddies trying to monitor the rest of the protesters. “I’m doing you a favor after all of the history between us. Your file would be even more dirty if it wasn’t for me pulling some strings.”
His fingers reached for me, and I pulled away, stepping back into Vic, trying to make the point clear that I was choosing sides. Vic’s arm laid across my shoulders, pulling me closer, but staying silent, even though his body felt ridged with tension around Rodriguez.
“I don’t need protection anymore, but thanks.”
Rodriguez tensed, and I saw his eyes turn darker.
“Okay, don’t have my help. Justice Fritz, you are under arrest for defacing a government building and disturbing the peace.” His cuffs were out, holding them like a taunt.
Vic’s hand went out, “One more step, and you’ll be looking for a new job. She doesn’t need your help, so let’s keep this professional… Clave International Holdings
professional.”
I wanted to remember this moment amongst the chaos forever: Vic standing tall by my side and I was standing just as tall. We weren’t at war or fighting anymore. We were united on the same side, and I couldn’t ignore how much I liked how it felt.
I didn’t need to profess any feelings.
I didn’t need to argue my way through figuring it out.
I didn’t need a man to fix me, label me, build a throne out of his love for me.
And I didn’t want to feel cheap anymore.
I wasn’t one of those girls who was defined by love. I was just as glorious as Vic, and not one ounce of me felt inferior to him.
It just felt victorious.
“Couldn’t have just taken a topless maid job today instead, huh?”
“Come on, Vic… the march is almost over.” I took his hand, dragging him behind me and turning on my bullhorn, I started to chant again as we rejoined the group.
Leaving Rodriguez behind us, I felt a weight lift off of me like my past was just that: in the past, instead of at the back of my brain, keeping me a prisoner from feeling the way I did now.
My past kept me a loser, and I fought to win every day.
The march got to the park, and everyone celebrated the attention we got—the way it felt to be a part of something bigger than yourself and the feeling that change could really be in our power. Anything was possible, and that was something to celebrate.
Khaos jumped off his skateboard, landing in the grass after a tumble with a fist still in the air. Grimm and Bowen found us in the crowd pretty easily, but I was sure all four of them never truly had their eyes off of each other.
Grimm spoke: “We done here? Abigail is at home, and she’s pretty pissed that she couldn’t be here.”
Vic slapped his hand, thanking him before asking him to take Khaos home on the way, even though he seemed at home here just as much as I was.
Bowen tossed his axe over his shoulder again, only this time he twisted a cap off a nip of alcohol, waiting to follow Grimm.
Khaos jumped up to leave, grabbing his board, jogging over to us all. Before he left, he squeezed me tight to his chest. “My penis has never felt more unsafe, but you’re a badass.”
Watching them leave, Vic threw his arm around my neck, stealing my balance right out from under me. “He’s not wrong you know. You kicked some ass. You know how I celebrate a win? Food.”
I could feel him chuckle into my hair. “Let me just finish up here.”
Once I found Meadow, Grace, and Jasper, we went over things quickly, even though we would meet up within the next week to keep pushing forward. Pushing a fist to theirs, I let them keep a hold of the win. I had my own win to bask in right behind me—the tall, dark, and traditional guy I never thought I would like this much.
“Come on, stud…” Yanking his arm, I started our trek back to the parking lot, where everyone had parked.
We started the walk in silence, just soaking up everything we weren’t saying, but we knew, regardless. Something changed in the air today; it was blunt and obvious.
“I have a past too, Jus. I don’t like talking about it, but it’s only fair since I know so much about yours now,” Vic told me.
Our hands swung next to each other by our sides, barely touching, yet it felt more intimate than most of the sex that I’ve had in my life.
VIC
I could see the panic cascade over her face in a way that made me want to eat my words. I wanted to swallow them whole again and pretend I didn’t meet her halfway.
She took my forearm in her hand, turning my wrist over, asking out loud if the time was right.
“No, it’s London time.” She gave me a confused look trying to already do the math, when I made my sarcasm clear. “It’s LA time, Jus.”
“Good, we’re right on time.”
“On time for what exactly?”
She was already a few steps ahead of me on a mission as she looked over her shoulder. “Time for you to experience life outside of a cult.”
Justice was rarely wrong, and it wasn’t lost on me that she called the Clave a cult, like it was a joke. We were behind every curtain, owned law enforcement, funded politics, and were absolutely above the law.
I was in a cult, and I was considered their golden boy.
“You gonna save my soul?” Tugging the hair tie out, I shook my messy waves out, shamelessly watching her ass that was barely covered by her cut off shorts.
She turned around, walking backwards, favoring the leg not brushed with a bruise already turning purple on her thigh.
“We can only try. You’re pretty doomed, but we can make you comfortable and as pain free as possible in the meantime.” Her laugh was just as experienced as her voice sounded—raspy but not horse.
Finally reaching the parking lot, she stood next to my car, waiting for me to come closer before touching the door handle. I swore she was allergic to money, regardless of how hard she hustled.
Pushing my hips into hers, I pinned her against the passenger door with my hands on her hips, keeping her still. My lips brushed hers, just like our hands had, close but not touching. “You're the perfect weapon when I’m a handgun looking for peace.”
“How condemned is your soul, Vicy?” Her hands found my biceps, keeping me against her with her lip pinched under her teeth.
She was peace, and I was a loaded gun. We were so opposite, yet so similar that it scared her to know just how truly bad I am, because if I’m going to Hell, she probably was too.
She was used to a buddy system; we could protest together even in Hell.
“Dante wasn’t the first time I killed someone. Although, he’s still alive and should invest in Kevlar since it saved his life.”
“How many times have you killed? Because of the Clave? Saving people like you did with me?” Shaking her head, she added, “I need context.”
“Context just makes it worse…”
She grilled me with her eyes, demanding I come up with a new answer.
“Normally, I take out my competition… or it’s Clave related. The first time was at boarding school, Thomas, he was going to beat me at a meet. The last was Dante, technically.”
I felt her tense in my hands, and her hips squared as her shoulders pushed back.
Softening, she digested my confession, absorbing it like a sponge. “Well, you should be glad you found me. Now we can get to work balancing the scales. The march must have counted for something. Next stop: the soup kitchen. I volunteer every month, and it just so happens today is my day.”
“What if you can’t save me, Justice? What if I’m not someone you can save?”
“If you aren’t saveable, then I’m not worth saving either. Who else am I going to fight with?”
With her hand on the back of my neck, she pulled my lips down to hers, catching the feelings between us. Her mouth opened, and I felt her tongue push against mine when I sunk into her even deeper.
That was the thing about peace: Once you get it, you’re fucked. The peace becomes the best armor, the clearest motivation, solid fucking gold, instead of that cheap shit they hand out for first place. There’s no going back when you’re already up to your neck in peace.
Pulling away, she held her breath, and I knew when our eyes opened we both felt the same: Fuck oxygen. My hand still on her hip, I pulled the door handle and waited for her to get in before I closed it. Apparently, we had plans for the night, and they all centered around redeeming my soul.
Feeling my car rev to life under me, I almost forgot my custom order had come in. Since Dante was actively pissed off, as any man would be who escaped death with the face of the guy who put a bullet in him, Bowen handed it off before we showed up at her march.
“Look under the seat. I want you protected if I’m not around to pull strings… or pull triggers.”
With bent eyebrows and a puckered expression—at least, I piqued her curiosity—she felt under the seat and pulled out a plastic bag wrapped
around a pink miniature handgun. Bowen wasn’t exactly much for the details, but I didn’t care how it was wrapped as long as it sent the right message.
“I’m not carrying a gun, Vic.” Unwrapped and sitting in her hands like a live bomb, her tone was less curious and more angry. I pushed my foot down on the gas, heading downtown, where LA got rougher and more needy.
I let her stew in her own anger when I stopped at a red light and told her, “Pull the trigger.”
“No! Are you insane? We’re in a moving car!” She was still holding it like it could explode all over us—both sending ripples through the peace we both had just found.
“Do you trust me?” It was a stretch since I had just confessed to multiple murders with not much guilt attached.
Swallowing the parts of her that didn’t trust me, I told her to point the gun at me, and I watched her shaky hand lift up the heavy metal to aim. Violence wasn’t her cup of tea, unless provoked. She would have taken the two rent-a-cops and Rodriguez if she didn’t have her hands behind her back.
“Now pull the trigger, Justice.”
She clamped her eyes down tight and squeezed the trigger like a professional, for someone against guns as much as she was. I chuckled, looking at the gun between us with a blue flame at the end. Her eyes still were closed, but then one lid popped open to assess the damage.
Her hand slapped my arm while I was still driving, and her cheeks pushed up with her too big smile. “You’re an asshole! A blow torch? Funny.”
“If you’re going to be two feet in my world, you need to be protected with more than your smart ass mouth.”
She sat back in her seat, smirk stuck to her face, feeling the high of that peace rolling back in once she knew my intentions.
“It looks so real…” she almost whispered it into the air.
“A lot looks real until you shake out the truth.”
Justice realized we were driving by skid row, and she finally decided to direct where I was going for her volunteering gig. I don’t know how she stood upright between volunteering, being a warrior for justice, her side hustles, and working for me.
