by Riley Parks
Evan wanted to know more about him, starting with, but not limited to, his fucking name. It was out of the ordinary for him to think of someone for longer than the time he was with them. Shit, sometimes even then his mind would wander. With the brunet, Evan was focused. That mouth, his ass, Evan wanted to get his tongue in both. He couldn’t wait to see him again.
Five more days.
He climbed out of bed and threw on his clothes, taking a moment to stare longingly at his canvases before exiting the room. As much he wanted to stay home and paint all day, he had to meet Micah and Chance at the university. They were showing him how they worked co-eds and got them to carry for the war boys.
Supposedly smart girls would do really stupid things if they were complimented enough. Evan pissed, brushed his teeth, and made his way into the kitchen to grab some Pop-Tarts and orange juice. As he was chugging from the carton and cringing at the bitterness the juice had after toothpaste, he felt a punch on his arm.
“You’re fucking nasty, you know that?” Kane chided as he ganked the package of breakfast pastries out of his hand and ripped it open so he could take a bite. “Other people drink that shit.”
Evan just gave him the finger and took his breakfast back.
“Where’d you fuck off to last night?” Kane questioned, regarding his brother skeptically as he leaned against the counter and peeled a banana.
“To fuck some women,” Evan replied coolly, clearly not appreciative of his brother’s allusions the night before. Whatever Kane thought he knew he should’ve kept to himself. Evan didn’t like when people acted like they had any right to his life, even if those people were his family. He’d been on his own for too long to answer to anybody else.
“Oh yeah?” the younger Goodwyn smiled to indicate that the shot was well-deserved. “You have a good time?”
“The best.” That part wasn’t a lie.
“Good. What’re you up to today?”
“You my keeper all of a sudden?” Evan asked, lifting his eyebrows in displeasure. He’d gone down this road with his family before and he wasn’t interested in partaking in the trip again. “Got a lot of fucking questions.”
“You know, I can always tell when you’re not fucked up,” Kane stated, taking a big bite of a banana. “Much nicer when you are.”
Evan shrugged and took another sip of the juice before closing it up and putting it back in the refrigerator. “Going over to CSU to get some runners for you assholes.”
Kane nodded and pursed his lips as if he was deciding whether to mention their brother’s name. Yeah, he was. Dumb fuck. “Maybe you’ll run into Paul. He’s still taking classes there.”
“Who?” Evan questioned, earning an eye roll from Kane. He was aware that his brother was still in touch with Paul, but Evan had told Kane long ago that didn’t mean that he wanted to be too. If he’d felt like being around somebody who constantly judged his decisions, he would have tried to make things right with Emma. At least she came with a house, unlike Paul, who came with a smug, know-it-all personality and a superiority complex.
“He asks about you every time I chill with him,” Kane stated. “Wants to hear you’re doing well.”
“Hmm,” Evan hummed, crinkling up his nose at the revelation. “And what do you tell him?”
“Tell him you’re the same,” Kane replied with a shrug. “What am I supposed to say?”
Evan let out a wry laugh and nodded. “Nah. That’s fair.”
“He said his offer still stands.”
“Yeah, well, he can still fuck off.” Evan headed out of the house without another word. He lit a cigarette and shook his head in frustration as he walked toward Micah’s place.
Paul was a pretentious piece of shit who liked to act as if he didn’t grow up South Side. As soon as he’d gotten his scholarship, he’d distanced himself from the life they used to live and expected Evan to do the same. All of a sudden tagging, fighting, and coke were below him, and his family was too. Evan had put up with Paul’s holier-than-thou attitude for a while, but when he had the audacity to stage an intervention, and offered to take out a loan to pay for Evan’s rehab, he’d had enough. He didn’t need help and he wasn’t anybody’s charity case, especially not someone who came from the same slum he did. Fuck that. Fuck Paul. And fuck Kane for bringing him up and ruining Evan’s good mood.
When he approached the apartment building, he found Micah and Chance sitting on the stoop waiting for him.
“Wassup, man? Ready to get into some sneaky shit?” Micah greeted, standing and shaking Evan’s hand before pulling him in for a half hug. Though he liked all the Klown Killerz he’d met, Micah was probably his favorite. He was funny as fuck and cool as he was handsome with his coffee-ground skin tone and chocolate eyes.
“Always,” Evan replied, nodding his hello to Chance. He didn’t know the tattooed blond that well yet, but he seemed a’ight enough from the few times they’d been around each other.
“We got to swing by the Circle K and pick up a package from Lo,” Chance informed them, brushing off the seat of his basketball shorts as he stood up from the step.
“Let’s roll then. Got to get to CSU by eleven. That’s when all the fine honeybees start to swarm around the Student Union. Easy picking,” Micah informed them with a grin.
As they walked the few blocks to the convenience store, Micah kept them entertained with a crazy-ass story about the threesome he’d had the night before. Evan probably wouldn’t have found it nearly as interesting if anyone but Micah was telling it, but he had a way with words that cracked him up.
“You’re full of shit,” Chance chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s no fucking way.”
“I’m telling you,” Micah insisted. “She did a full split on my dick like she was trying to win a cheerleading competition. It would have been hot as fuck if she wasn’t wiggling her fingertoes on my lips.”
“What the fuck are fingertoes?” Evan exclaimed with a laugh.
“You’ve never been with a bitch with fingertoes? Long ass things, man. You’re lucky.”
“Fuck.” Evan grimaced. “Yeah I am.” He wondered what kind of toes “none of your fucking business” had. Evan suspected they were probably perfect-looking like the rest of him.
As they turned onto Pershing, Evan heard a car revving behind them. The sound wasn’t out of the ordinary but the yelling that came after it was. “This is for Kaneos.” Successive pops from an AK-47 had him diving to the ground to curl up in the fetal position, gasping when he heard a body drop next to him with a sickening thud. “Rest in pieces, motherfuckers.”
When he heard the car speed away, Evan lifted his head, disgusted to see Chance’s brain matter strewn across the blood-drenched sidewalk.
“Don’t fucking puke now,” Micah warned. “Wait until we get away from the scene.” Without a moment’s hesitation he was on his feet running, waving for Evan to follow him. “C’mon, Goodwyn, run.”
“Shouldn’t we call nine-one-one?” Evan asked frantically as he ran after Micah.
“He’s dead, cuz,” Micah replied, glancing at Evan as he caught up. Micah shook his head and grimaced. “Ain’t nothing anybody can do for him now.”
“Fuck.” Evan had seen dead people before, but that was at wakes, not in the middle of the fucking sidewalk. He wondered if he’d ever be able to get that image out of his head. He hoped so. The sound of screams echoed behind them as traumatized people discovered the bloody body.
“Yeah, fucking Demonz. Don’t know what the fuck Chance did to piss them off, but them pussy asses never miss an opportunity to light one of us up,” Micah sighed. “Over here, yo.” They ran down an alley and watched as police cars sped down the street, sirens blaring and horns beeping. The ambulance wasn’t far behind and they both shook their heads, knowing it wasn’t needed.
Evan leaned back against the warm brick wall, desperately attempting to catch the breath he’d left on Pershing. Closing his eyes, he attempted to steel hi
mself, but immediately saw Chance’s hollowed-out head. He felt his stomach flip angrily and crouched over so he could upchuck his breakfast.
“First time?” Micah asked, clearly knowing the answer. He laid a soothing hand on Evan’s back as he nodded and then puked again. “It’ll get easier.”
10
“Ready to do this?” Luke asked as they took the stairs up to Lyle’s porch by twos. Jackson could see the concern on Luke’s face, the question holding more weight than it ever had before. Maybe he thought Jackson would have second thoughts, that he’d give Lyle another chance. Jackson figured his brother would have known him better than that.
“Always ready,” Jackson stated evenly, unflinching at the task at hand. It wasn’t the first time he had to regulate shit and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Some of the other high-status guys had the lower-level thugs take care of their dirty business, but Jackson always handled his. He wanted rats to look him in the eye as they took their last breath and know that he wasn’t one to be fucked with. He’d had to teach that lesson more times than he could count.
Loyalty was everything on the street. As soon as someone breached his, they were dead to him, and then the rest of the world a short time later. There was no forgiveness for betrayal. As far as he was concerned, if a motherfucker didn’t follow the South Side rules, he asked for it. It didn’t matter if it was Jackson’s brother, cousin, friend, or father. They had to live by the code, and if they chose not to, Jackson followed through. No mercy.
They banged on the door loud enough for Lyle to hear it in the basement.
“Motherfucker won’t stop begging,” Lyle informed them as he swung the door open. He shook Jackson’s hand and pulled him in for a hug before doing the same to Luke. “Thinks I’m going to Underground Railroad his ass out of here or some shit.”
“Sell your ass out for his?” Jackson sneered. “Sounds about right for an entitled cocksucker.”
“Can’t believe he did you like this, man,” Lyle tsked. “After everything you’ve done for him. Fuck that pussy.” He signaled for the Jablonic brothers to follow him down to the basement where they saw Aiden strapped to a chair with a tarp laid out underneath it.
“Jackson. Jack,” Aiden began, brown eyes as wide as they were frantic. “You got it all wrong, Jack. I’d never do you like that. You know I’d never do you like that.”
“Used to think you wouldn’t,” Jackson sniffed indifferently, nudging his nostril with his knuckle as he glared at his former friend and future victim. “But I got that shit wrong, huh?”
“Fucking low to steal from your boy,” Luke chided, shaking his head in disappointment.
“I didn’t,” Aiden started again, but an aggravated Jackson quickly cut him off.
“So you didn’t take ten eight balls of my best shit, say you were going to sell ‘em for me, and then sell ‘em for yourself on the low after telling me it got fucking stolen?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “‘Cause it seems like that’s what you fucking did, running around flaunting your new Jesus piece and AK like the pig-ass piece of shit you are.”
Aiden shook his head fervently. “It ain’t like that.”
“What about the reports Jack got from some of the boys then, hmm? How do you explain that shit?” Luke interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the fat fuck traitor with disgust.
“I’ll get you the money,” Aiden promised, pleading for pity. “Please. I’m sorry, Jack. You know I’m fucking good for it.” His legs were shaking violently against the chair as his lower lip quivered with fear. “Ten years of friendship has got to mean something, right?”
“Seems like it don’t though,” Jackson replied. “I mean, you taking what’s mine and all.” He shrugged. “Seems like it don’t.” He studied Aiden for a moment and then turned to Lyle. “Tarp the wall behind him, too. Motherfucker’s got a big fucking melon.”
The man quickly did as he was told while Aiden continued to appeal to Jackson for clemency.
“I wasn’t thinking, man. I got wrapped up in the lifestyle,” Aiden cried, tears streaming down his face. “Wanting to floss and shit. Wanting to seem like I had it going on. I should have never gone there. I’m fucking sorry I did.”
“You know how I feel about begging,” Jackson reminded as he pulled out his Glock. He aimed the gun in Aiden’s direction and prepped the trigger while the man sobbed. Without hesitation, he lined up the front sight with the center of his former friend’s forehead, held the gun tight, and squeezed the trigger, sending a one-sixty-five grain bullet straight through his head. “Got to shut ‘em up quick.”
The room was eerily quiet as Luke untied the ropes around the corpse, allowing it to fall heavy on the tarp. All three men worked to roll Aiden up and carry his body up the stairs.
“Goddamn he’s bulky as fuck,” Lyle groused as they struggled to maneuver him through the doorway and into the garage. He dropped Aiden’s feet and keyed open the trunk of his car so they could dump him into it.
“Not as huge as Big Mike was,” Luke recalled, shaking his head. “Pulled my back out. Had to rest up for a week after getting rid of his hefty ass.”
“Are we going to go on a walk down memory lane right now or are we going to go out and get a beer?” Jackson groaned, bringing the trunk door down. “You dumping him tonight?”
Lyle nodded. “Yeah, got a couple of the younger guys coming through. I’m going to show them our drop spot.”
“Ah, enriching the minds of the youth of America, one thug at a time,” Luke laughed, earning an annoyed glare from Jackson.
“Seriously though, are we getting a fucking drink?” Jackson repeated with a sigh.
“This one hit you hard, Jack?” Lyle questioned, draping his arm around Jackson’s shoulder and giving him a companionable shake.
Jackson shook his head. “Nah, it ain’t like that. Just trying to get my mind off some shit.”
He didn’t want to tell them that he intended to drink the days away until Saturday. The hours felt too long as he anticipated seeing Evan again. It had only been a day and a half since he’d gotten the best orgasm of his life, but it had felt like twenty. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the Daywalker out of his head. Jack felt like a fucking pansy, pining over some dude, but redhead was so hot, and goddamn could he fuck. Even worse than the crush Jackson seemed to be stuck with was that he actually wished he had the dude’s number so he could call him and meet up sooner.
He didn’t get like this. Sure, he liked to get fucked, but he never gave a shit enough to know the dudes that screwed him. He wanted to get banged and go about his business. It surprised him that he was interested in learning more about the redhead; like how the fuck he knew about guns? Jackson figured the only guns Evan had been around were rifles for duck hunting or whatever the fuck rich people did. Maybe he had more edge than Jackson had originally thought.
Before their last meeting, he’d thought the guy was pretty fucking cute and a little goofy, but after the pounding he gave Jackson, and his knowledge of firearms, Jacks was thinking that he may be a badass, and that thought turned him on massively. He’d found himself getting lost in filthy fantasies about Evan owning his ass, tying him up, fucking his face—all the shit he’d wanted to try but never let himself consider due to his circumstances. With his newfound freedom from Tamara and the room to himself, he was actually contemplating bringing Evan back to his place. He’d have to tell Amy to fuck off to Isaiah’s, which didn’t concern him because he knew his sister was smart enough not to ask questions.
Unlike Aiden, Amy lived by the code. Though he was closer to Luke when they were growing up, he’d recognized in his teenage years that Amy had always had his back, even more than his brother had, and that was what had prompted him to have hers. He didn’t understand how he’d been so blind to it for so long. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see what was right in front of him. After all, it wasn’t something a kid wanted to believe about his father. It wasn’t that
he didn’t know that his dad was an abusive asshole, he always had been. Jacks never thought he would go that far.
Everything changed the day he’d found twelve-year-old Amy bleeding on the bathroom floor. She’d told him that she was pregnant and losing the baby. Jackson hadn’t been an expert in the area, but he’d known that there was too much blood for it to be considered normal and had rushed her to the hospital. He’d been aware his sister got around, that hadn’t been a secret, so her being knocked up hadn’t seemed like a stretch. What had taken him by surprise had been the bruising he’d seen on her belly when the nurses had lifted her shirt. Jackson had felt rage pump through his body as doctors and social workers took turns questioning Amy, trying to find out who had hurt her.
South Side rules had kept her mouth shut, but she’d opened up when they made their way home the next day. Calling the cops wasn’t going to happen, so Jackson did the next best thing to putting his father away. He had gotten Amy out of that hellhole. Then he had gotten jumped into Dem Demonz two days following her miscarriage. And after a month of stealing and selling for the DDs, he had been able to pay a friend of the family for him and Amy to stay in his basement.
As soon as Jackson turned eighteen, he’d gotten an apartment for them and they were free. Luke had stuck by their father, unable to fathom that their dad could impregnate his daughter and then beat the shit out of her to abort the baby. Jackson wasn’t sure in what fantasy world his dumbass brother had been living, but things had never been the same between them since, and Jackson was all right with that.
Luke rolled a tarp as well as he rolled a joint and though he pissed Jackson the fuck off sometimes, both of those skills were essential.
So that was that.
11
In approximately fifteen hours Evan was going to be fucking the hell out of the hottest guy he’d ever laid eyes on, and he couldn’t wait. As he put on his basketball shorts and sleeveless top, he decided that getting in some physical activity on the court wouldn’t be a horrible thing. He felt like he could use some conditioning for the amount of banging he was going to be doing in the not-so-distant future. He’d decided that he was going to ask the guy for his number that night. Though “none of your fucking business” seemed determined to keep things incredibly casual between them, Evan was pretty sure that if he fucked the shit out of the guy, he’d loosen up and make it a more regular thing.
