“Twenty-two.”
“Holy shit.” I take a seat, keeping Matthew’s phone safe and out of view. “What happened?”
“The Young Herons happened,” Nianna says. “They’re working with the cops.”
No, I think. Just Matthew. And he’ll be able to tell me more if I manage to get this stupid phone hidden.
“The Boars were in the Mission,” Micah says. “The Herons want that ground, and it feels like they’re getting it, given how the area is gentrifying. They want the locals out, the Boars out, and more hipster techies in.”
“They’ll recruit more,” Nianna replies. “The Boars always recruit fast.” She turns to Jax. “We should build our numbers, too.”
“I agree,” says Mako. “And I know Kate does.” The girl in question nods.
Jax bobs his head from side to side. “The Boars got big, then they got lazy. We work fine how we are.” He nudges Micah. “Get Kurt and scout the Mission. I’ll have Jules and Cameron go downtown. See if the Herons have tagged it or anything yet.”
I skim the rest of the article while the others disperse—Matthew’s name is nowhere in it. Phew. Phone, I remind myself. Hide the damn phone.
I hurry into the garage and wait until the door shuts behind me. Taking the phone from my waistband, I toss it up and down like it’s a bomb I need to defuse. Hiding it in my clothes seems too obvious—and I know Jax has gone through those at least once, I remember with a blush. One of the boxes might be good, but I’ve seen Kate and Mako sift through those now and again when we need a certain kitchen gadget. Up on a shelf? I eye the height. It would be awkward getting it from there. And one wrong—possibly drunken—bump and it might fall.
I survey the garage, growing more desperate by the second. The phone’s off, of course, with no alarms, but I still want it hidden.
Bed. Boxes. Pool table. Shelves.
Pool table. Yes.
I grab a stray sock from the floor and dig around in the boxes until I find a roll of masking tape. Lying down on my back, I scoot underneath the table. With the only lights directly above it, the bottom is all shadow. I place my hand on dark wood. I can barely see it.
It’s the best I can think of right now.
Ripping off a strand of tape, I position the sock and secure it with just enough slack. I repeat the process twice more. I slide the phone in and back out, tugging on the tape to test it. It’ll hold, Valerie. It’ll hold and so can you.
* * *
I take a shower to keep up my charade, though I don’t think anyone’s even remotely suspicious. Steaming water dribbles off my fingertips as my mind flies ahead to six thirty. That’s when Matthew told me to call.
It feels so good just to know the phone is there, that the line is open. I wonder how long it took for Alex to agree to give me the phone. Would he want the future leader of the Herons to be talking to a Stag? Or would he see it as a favor to his little brother?
The thought of it being a trap comes back, sinking its teeth into my hopes. I stick my face in the shower’s spray as if hot water were the panacea for dark thoughts. It’ll be fine. It’s Matthew. It has to be fine.
The rest of the day drags. I knock on Kate’s door and ask if she wants to try to fold paper butterflies, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t really care about it anymore,” she says, handing me a stack of square paper. “You can look up how to do it online.”
“Oh, okay.” I take the paper. “Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “I’m fine. Just have a headache.”
“Okay,” I say. “But if there’s ever anything you want to talk about—”
“I’m fine,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “Just leave me alone.”
I go dejectedly back into the kitchen, chucking the paper on the table. Well, that was a bust. Now I’m worried on top of bored. I kill time watching reruns on Netflix, but the distraction barely takes.
By six o’clock, I can no longer sit still. I need privacy for Matthew’s call and breathing room for me. I find a fresh set of workout gear and put it on. Wrapping and unwrapping my headphones around my fingers, I pace the cold basement. I check and make sure I have my Stag phone—no new messages—then grab Matthew’s also and tuck the latter into my waistband. I’m halfway up the stairs when Jax opens the basement door.
He cocks his head to the side. “You already ran today.”
“I did,” I say. My pulse quickens. “I’m just antsy. Thought I’d do another quick one.”
“No. We’re still lying low. You most of all. I shouldn’t have even let you go earlier.”
Shit. “I wouldn’t be gone long.”
He shakes his head, stepping down the rest of the stairs. I pivot, keeping my right hip—and the square block of Matthew’s phone—out of his sight. Jax doesn’t say anything. He just surveys the room, glancing at the recycling bins, my bed, and my things.
What time is it? Did I already turn Matthew’s phone on? No. Definitely not. But what if it turned on by itself? No, that doesn’t happen. It’s off. I’m sure.
“I’ll just do stretches or something in the yard then,” I say quickly.
Jax shrugs. “No, no, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go run.”
“You want to go running with me?”
“Yeah.” He comes closer and I lose myself in the scent of his aftershave. “I used to run track, back in high school. It’ll be nice.”
I try to think of something, anything. Some excuse to get Jax out of the room so I can stash the phone. I can say I need to change into something warmer. Something lighter. I need water. I need my shoes.
“You go on.” Glancing quickly at his body—I mean, his clothes—I add, “Go change. I want to grab a sweatshirt.”
“I’ll wait.”
Matthew’s phone is a live grenade against my skin. I move gingerly to my set of drawers, pull out the first sweatshirt I see, and tug it on. Thankfully it’s one of my larger ones. My hip and Matthew’s phone are covered, but just barely.
“Ready.”
We go upstairs, and he goes to his room. I contemplate chucking Matthew’s phone in a bathroom cabinet or under the couch—but Kate and Mako are watching TV, so I just stand there. Fuck.
Jax comes back in a loose hoodie and basketball shorts. “Come on, Valentine.”
I expect Jax to say something about where to turn, to speed up or slow down, or to grab me and ask me what’s in my waistband.
Instead, he lets me lead. He keeps pace two steps behind me, his hair catching in the wind as he moves. My body warms and I almost relax—almost.
The sweatshirt plan has backfired. Sweat beads my skin—including down at my hip. I can feel the moisture start to dislodge Matthew’s phone. Every step and it slides down a little farther. I keep my strides short, trying to move my legs only and my hips as little as possible. It feels awkward. It looks awkward.
All the while I keep looking back at Jax. My leader keeps his finely wrought features facing forward, the streetlamps catching the green in his hazel eyes.
We reach a corner, and I stop short. I’m going to miss my call. What’s Matthew going to think if I ignore him?
“Valentine?” Jax puts his hand on the small of my back.
I jump away from him. “I can’t…”
Then it happens. The phone slides out past my waistband into the loose stretchy fabric of my leggings. Jax gently puts his hand on my arm.
“Can’t what?” he asks.
“I. Just … give me a sec.”
I crouch to the ground and fiddle with my shoelace. Jax surveys the houses around us, probably bored. We’re near the bus stop that took Micah and me to get my tattoo. I feel so much older now.
“Take your time,” he says. “No rush.”
Yes, rush. Seizing my moment, I push the phone back up and get it to an almost secure spot. I haven’t felt so panicked since my birthday. The gunfire, the weird intimidation tactic from the Boars … come to think of it, it was all a little
off.
“Jax, can I ask you something?” I say. “Kate said most of what happens between the gangs is retaliation. Like what happened at Mission Dolores. You don’t kill unless someone crossed you first.”
He nods. “That’s right.”
“But on the night I was recruited, the Boars were going to kill me over nothing. For them to threaten me … it doesn’t make sense.”
Jax smiles, cocking his head to the side. “What do you think that means?”
I shrug. “Maybe they thought I was someone else.”
“Or you thought they were something else.”
“What?” I say, repeating it in my head. “Wait … were those not Boars?”
“Nope.”
“Who were they?”
“Some buddies of mine.” He’s grinning.
“You shot at them!”
“I’m sure it sounded that way. It was probably overkill, but I wanted to see if you were really committed.”
“You’re insane,” I say. A flood of worry hits me and I tack on a “sorry.”
There’s a moment of stillness, and then Jax asks, “Do you hate me?”
“No.” I swallow. “You … I just don’t understand you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I know. But I want to.”
Stillness again. Only this time I’m aware of how easily it’d be to close the distance between us. This time I’m wanting …
The wind rises, and Jax brushes my hair from my face. “We should get back,” he says quietly.
He turns abruptly, heading back the way we came, waving his hand to tell me I should follow. The wind picks back up, blowing against our bodies and pushing us back toward the house. I follow behind, thinking. Something has to make him tick, and I don’t know what that thing is. But I want to.
Even with Matthew in my heart, I’ve got Jax on my mind.
Jax turns back, sees me still sulking, and smiles. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad.”
* * *
I missed Matthew’s call.
I’m waiting, alone, and in bed. I told the others I had a headache and wanted some quiet for a bit. Matthew’s phone rests in my hand. I send him a trio of texts, trying to explain what happened. Finally, he replies:
I’m calling you
Seconds later, the phone buzzes and I answer immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Matthew replies. “Why didn’t you pick up?”
“Sorry. Jax made me go running with him. Well, I offered. Kinda.”
He clears his throat. “Have you thought any more about what I said? About leaving the Wars?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And what? Matthew, no one leaves.”
“No one has before,” he says. “But they can now. You can. That’s what I’ve been working with John about.”
“John Kilmer,” I say. “The chief of police.”
“Jax told you?”
“I read it somewhere.” I exhale hard into the phone. “Do you remember him?”
A pause. “Yes.”
Memories flash in my brain like a silent movie—lying in my bed after getting no sleep. Mom making me get dressed and come downstairs. Two police officers sitting on our couch. Nothing had ever looked so unnatural to me. Kilmer had a beard then.
“I didn’t know he’d become chief.” When Matthew doesn’t say anything, I exhale a small huh. “I take it you did.”
“I kept in touch with him on and off.” Matthew’s tone hardens. “Hey, Val, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” So fucking cute when you’re mad—why can’t I get that out of my head? “I was just afraid the phone might go off or something.”
“Okay. It’s all right. Listen, I don’t have much time, so I’ll just say it. I want to end the Wars. It’s horrible, what happened to Annie, but that was a long time ago. Everything now is just retaliation. Or insanity. Jesus, Val, you should hear some of the things the other Herons say.”
“Like what?”
“It’s like I told you. They keep expanding and partnering with businesses because they can. Because they don’t like the Boars. And they talk about it so casually under this pretense of improving the city. I don’t know how Alex did this. It freaks me out.” He clears his throat. “That’s why I want to end it. The program John and I’ve made—it’ll keep you safe. I know it. I just need you to be the first.”
“Why don’t you be first?”
“I can’t. It’d be too convenient for the son of the family bankrolling it to enroll.”
“Meaning your parents don’t want you going public as being part of the Young Herons,” I shoot back. “How are they okay with this, anyway? I thought they wanted revenge.”
“Ending the Wars this way still gives the Herons some control. There’s no way around that.” He exhales heavily. “Look, I just need someone else. Why won’t you just say yes? Ending it is the right thing to do.”
“I can’t go. I have to stay for Leo. I want to stay for Leo. That’s the whole reason I joined!”
“I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten. I’ll find a way to take care of it. Just promise me you’ll join TRUCE. Join up, then people in the gangs will see it’s legit. Then we’ll run. Anywhere you want.”
An idea strikes me. “Can’t you get one of the Boars from the Mission to sign up?”
“Kilmer says they’re not caving. They don’t trust the cops. You’re different, Val. Leave the Stags. You’ll be safe.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Trust me.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
I want to catch the words as soon as they’re out, but I can’t. I envision Matthew on the other end of the line, maybe sitting down in shock, or with his thumb across his lips like he does when he’s frustrated. Whatever he’s doing, he is doing it in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Please. It’s just a lot. What you’re asking. I want to help. And I’m trying my best but … I’m scared, okay? One of the Boars will cave. They’ve got to. Until then, I’m safe here. The Stags aren’t like the others.”
“Yes, they are.”
Well, that’s what they said about you. “Look, Jax knows who killed Leo. And I’m getting closer to him telling me. Just give me time.”
“You’d stay with Jax? Val, no.”
“Jax might be the only person who knows,” I say. “I can’t lose that chance. Not now.”
“And I can’t have you getting hurt for those, what? Godless heathens?”
I hear the desperate laugh in his voice. He’s trying to make a joke. Godless heathens is a nickname Lyla and the other theater kids gave to themselves—with pride, I might add. Matthew and I only ever used it with playful sarcasm.
I don’t laugh, and instead we drift into a long silence. “What if they go after my parents?”
“They’re safe. Alex and some of the Herons from his year have been keeping watch on them.”
What? “My mom said he came over. You … did that?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome. Now, please say you’ll join TRUCE. I’ll come get you. Right now. Wherever you are.”
I weigh my choices, placing both options on a mental scale. The sides dip and sway as I try to keep track of the consequences of each choice. If I go, I’m with Matthew but I never get the Boar who killed Leo. I’m promised safety and Matthew’s presence, but at the expense of my revenge—not to mention my name and privacy. Anyone who didn’t see it when SFPD tweeted my face to the world would certainly see it this time. Mom and Dad will have to go through a new shade of the hell they’ve already been through.
If I stay, then I keep my growing hope for closure. I’ve already made it a few months. I bet I can make it a year. TRUCE will find someone else, I’m sure of it. Mom and Dad get their daughter back after her year away.
The scale clinks solidl
y. I stay.
“I can’t go, Matthew,” I say. “I won’t put Mom and Dad through anything else. Not again. Besides, I think I’m close to finding the Boar.”
“Val, you could save someone’s life. A lot of lives, actually.”
I’d been so wrapped up in my selfishness that I forgot the most obvious repercussion of my going—ending the Wars. How terrible of a person am I that I’d choose my own gain over other people’s losses? My mental scale tips back again, uneven.
“I need time,” I say, finally. “Let … let me think about it.”
“Take all the time you need,” he replies, though I suspect he doesn’t mean it. “When you’re ready, I’ll come to you. I’ll find a way out of here. What do you think?”
I think Jax may actually kill me if he finds out I’ve left again. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Matthew hangs up, and I feel his ghost instantly, like when you stare at something bright and see the spots after you close your eyes. A hollowness of something that is no longer there. I turn off Matthew’s phone and put it back in its place. I trudge up the stairs to join the others. Nianna spots me first.
“How’s the headache?”
“Better,” I say, remembering my own excuse.
“There’s aspirin in the bathroom,” she says. She motions to Jax’s room. “Micah’s back from scouting. He and Jax are talking.”
“Did he seem okay?” I ask.
“I think so,” she replies. “But we’ll see.”
When the door finally opens, both Jax and Micah are smiling.
“Hey,” I say. “So, what happened?”
Jax gives Micah a nod, and the latter clears his throat. “The Heron symbol was everywhere. Walls, telephone poles, café tables.” I shiver—if the Herons take the Mission, it’ll mean a lot of displaced families. Folks whose parents came here with nothing and who built their lives up around San Francisco.
“I wonder if people in the Mission want them there,” Nianna says.
“Who wants what where?” asks Mako, coming in from the hall.
“Young Herons in the Mission,” Nianna says again. “Money makes people feel safe. If you were a rich white twenty-whatever moving into an unfamiliar neighborhood, what would make you feel better?”
A Thousand Fires Page 16
