by Mj Fields
Kai and Miles don’t move. They expect that I’m just going to roll over and let them chill here instead of going back to the off-campus student housing, which isn’t happening.
“You two need to get the fuck out of here, too.”
They look shocked. Honestly, it’s a stupid fucking move on my part, but I’m sick of playing the damn game that I’ve been playing since some judge gave custody of me, a then fourteen-year-old boy who was orphaned, to his mother’s on-again, off-again lover.
They leave when they realize I’m not caving, and then I clean up the mess I made.
Picking up the shards of glass, I realize it is one from a bar that my mother worked at until I was about five—Sorority Sisters.
Up until she passed away, I didn’t know that the glass wasn’t from an actual sorority. How would I have? My earliest memories were of her dropping me off, backpack on my back, matching the one on hers, at her college’s daycare while she attended classes to earn her GED and then her associates degree. She had quit working her “night job” when she came home to find me standing next to the couch with a crack pipe in my hand and the babysitter, who was one of her “sorority sisters,” and some guy that she had over, passed out on the couch, butt-ass naked.
I don’t remember much more than the fact it was summer, and she was gone for most of it. I stayed with some family, not my own, in Central Jersey. I also remember crying a lot. Hated that fucking place; must have been ten kids there. It was hot, and the only thing that helped us cool off was a garden hose and one of those little plastic pools that we shared with the family’s dogs. And I remember when my mom came back for me, she was wearing a military uniform and no makeup, and the look on her face held a promise that life was going to get better.
The next year, Mom worked at a clinic while I was in school and on the occasional weekend. She only left for a couple weeks out of the year while I stayed with Frank who, like the Reserves, was a part-time gig. When she was home, she worked full-time as a nurse and eventually bought this place, and life was real good for those seven years until her last deployment. That’s when Frank became my guardian, got the checks from Social Security, got me a scholarship to Seashore Academy, and taught me all I needed to know about getting by and fucking the system.
When I turned sixteen and learned there wasn’t enough money to pay the taxes on this place, even though it had been rented out for two years, and it was about to be foreclosed on, I taught Frank that I was much smarter than he had given me credit for and told him that, if he didn’t help me get emancipated, I’d blow his ass in.
Don’t get me wrong: he taught me how to survive, how to fight, and how to take care of myself.
For two years, I’ve rented this place occasionally to make enough to pay the taxes, fought when I needed food, and even made jewelry, something he taught me. I got better than him, and he sold my shit at his shop.
As much as I love renting this place out during the summer, making enough to pay a year’s worth of taxes, I know damn well I’m not going to hustle on purpose all my life.
My plan was always to join the military. I had witnessed how it changed my mom’s life, and what it had done for us. I wanted West Point or Annapolis, but a criminal charge, even as a minor, kills that dream real quick, and I earned that one. So, now I’ll go to college, become legit—well, as legit as a kid born to a fifteen-year-old girl who became a stripper to get through life and stayed stripping after having a kid, to get through college could ever be. I’m going to break a cycle, get the fuck out of here, and never look back.
Frank tells me I’m going to hate leaving the hustle and the freedoms it provides, but Frank chose that life as an adult. He has no clue what it’s like to be born into it and have to fight your way out of your situation. Hell, I applaud my mother for all she did, but it doesn’t mean I want to be like her, and as far apart as a stripper and a bare-knuckled underground brawler seems to be, it’s really just a hop, skip, and a jump from one to the other, and I want as many miles away from both as I can get.
Chapter Ten
Idiom
Free for all.
Truth
Nothing is ever free.
Monday
“Makes no sense to me, T.” Justice stretches out on my bed.
“What doesn’t make sense? They’re assholes, set me up, and I fell right into it, and dragged you along,” I whisper-hiss as I close the blinds to my bedroom, completely freaked out by the fact that someone took pictures outside my window last night.
The fact that we messed with the surveillance cameras so that we could sneak in and out, or sneak someone else in and out, to do stupid shit bit me right in the ass, especially since that situation hasn’t arose yet.
“And if you are being blasé about the situation because I didn’t tell you everything that happened that night—”
“Or show me the phantom texts from last night.” His eyes harden, and he lifts a brow.
“They were there. I saw them. I wasn’t imagining them.”
He sits up. “And you know how fucked up that sounds, so don’t get pissed at me, Truth. I’m gonna do what I said I would.”
“You said you would out of anger. No one will fault you if—”
“No. It’s a one and done situation.”
Anxiety swirls around me, and my chest tightens. “What if it’s not? What if you like it, or what if they somehow suck you in and —”
“By Saturday, they’ll know my word is my word, and that crew is life.” He nods once then lies back.
When I don’t move, he sighs and sits back up. “Stop personalizing. They’re nothing but billionaire bullies who are doing what they can to keep the order they’ve kept for hundreds of years. If anything, feel good about the fact they’re focusing on us and not giving the scholarship kids shit. We’re a threat, and we haven’t proven provokable until now. Disappearing text messages or not, we’ve seen the video. They fucked with us on our home turf. I knock out their leader, and they’ll try to be our best fucking friends.”
My chest burns, and I begin to feel hopeless at the fact that he’ll never believe me.
“They were real. I told you that’s what scared me last night. I didn’t say anything because it was about me.”
“Regardless, they made it about you, me, and Patrick today. I’ve stood back and have watched you struggle. Honored your need to deal with it alone, but I’m done. Now we’ve got this, Truth. You, me, and the rest of them together.” He grabs my hand and yanks me down next to him. “One fight and done, T. No big thing.”
I sigh. “You better not let him fuck up your face.”
He chuckles sleepily. “You worried about my face, T?”
“Your eyes and your mouth.”
He opens one eye and looks at me. “Not my nose?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“And why’s that?”
“We have the same eyes, same mouth.”
He smirks as he closes his eyes. “Pretty tired. Gonna crash here. Since you’ve seen him fight, tomorrow, you and Patrick can give me some tips.”
“He has a nasty uppercut.” I sigh as I sit up and walk over to the other bed. “And he moves like a gorilla.”
He chuckles. “Night, T.”
“Night, Justice.” I crawl under the covers of the twin bed. “Love you.”
Tuesday
Head up, eyes forward, was the last thing Justice said to me before we parted ways this morning. And it’s exactly what I did … until Gabrielle reared her ugly head.
Walking out of the bathroom stall, I see her leaning against the sink, arms crossed and toe tapping.
Head up and eyes forward, I walk to the sink, wash my hands, and completely ignore her.
When I start to walk out, she steps in front of me.
Head up, eyes forward. I tell her how it is. “My grace has run out for you.”
“Is that so?”
Head up, eyes on her, I give it to her straight. “I h
aven’t done a damn thing to you, and you nonstop run your mouth. Newsflash, bitch: I’m better than you.”
“You’re better than me?” She laughs snootily.
“In every way that counts.” I take a step forward, and she steps back, staying in front of me. “You run your mouth one more time, and I’ll smear your name … in peanut butter.”
Quicker than the words leave my mouth, she slaps me across the face.
The shocked look on her face gives me pause from going full-out Jersey girl on her.
Eyes wide, her jaw stamped shut, she looks like a caged animal. And then she smiles, ill intent erasing the fear.
I couldn’t care less. “Bring it.”
Walking out of the bathroom, her hot on my heels, into what should be an empty hallway since third period began ten minutes ago, but leaning against the lockers is none other than Harrison Reeves.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mumble as I walk past him to get to my classroom.
Behind me, I hear Harrison say, “Leave her alone, Gabrielle, or you’ll regret it.”
“Do you think I’m actually going to listen to you?” she huffs.
I turn the corner to see Miles leaning against the wall. He lifts his chin, and I walk faster now. At the last corner, I turn to see Kai standing there.
“Not afraid of you,” I hiss.
He pushes off the wall. “Not the intention.”
“Then what the fuck is?” I snap.
“Having your back until we figure out who sent the video.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh, please.”
“No one pulls that shit and gets away with it on our watch.”
I shake my head and continue to my class.
We decided to hit the fitness center with the guys during lunch. Kiki was cool with it, since she and I used to run together until she got all pregnant, happy, and then married. Apparently, newlyweds don’t require cardio. Brisa and Tris, who’ve never had to exercise a day in their lives, both follow along, knowing we won’t leave them in the cafeteria alone.
“Isn’t sweating during our lunch period illegal or something?” Tris grumbles as she looks at the elliptical, and we all laugh at her.
Brisa hits a few buttons for Tris as she asks me, “Do you believe him?”
I told them all about the bathroom incident where the horsemen seemingly had my back, as well as every time I’ve changed classes today, while she steps onto the treadmill and begins walking backward so she’s facing me. I’m on the ab machine, since I can’t run, row, or cycle because of my damn ankle.
“Why should she?” Kiki asks from the treadmill.
Brisa shrugs. “The bigger question is: why would they have sent her the ultimate golden ticket to an event, where no one else from this school was invited, and then all ban around her, make their presence known to the little ponies, if they really had anything to do with that video?”
Ignoring Brisa’s question slash insinuation, I look at Kiki. “Did you say anything to Brand?”
She taps the speed control button down to a walking pace. “He leaves tomorrow for a few days, so no, I don’t want him to stress.”
“And you can’t go, anyway.” Brisa turns around.
The look in Kiki’s eyes tells me she has different plans.
“Kiki, you can’t risk—”
“I’m aware,” she interrupts me with an annoyed tone.
“Well, I’m not staying home if Max and Amias are going,” Tris states matter-of-factly.
“Like it would be a big stretch; you hardly leave your room. You’re either Snapchatting or FaceTiming Marcello Effisto,” Brisa picks on her sister.
Tris rolls her eyes. “He can deal with a few hours without me being stuck up his ass.”
“But can you?” Brisa challenges.
“Pfft, yeah.”
Tris and Marcello have been boyfriend and girlfriend since they were like two years old. It was super cute until she admitted a few years ago in front of Bella that he’d felt her up. The male members of the crew didn’t say a damn thing, since she let that little morsel out of the proverbial bag on a mission to get Bella to stop allowing Uncle Jase’s overprotective ways set a precedence for the rest of us. However, the next day was a totally different story altogether.
We were at a family friend’s wedding, on a yacht, and the boys threatened to throw him overboard. Marcello laughed in their faces when they hung him over the railing. When he pulled free and jumped himself, everyone flipped out, terrified they would get in trouble. Then, as only a second thought, freaking out that he might get eaten by some of the sharks that we’d spotted not half an hour ago, they told the ’rents that he had fallen. His father, Sabato, dove off and into the water, and our cousin Dominic had the captain stop and turn around. The boys were about shitting their pants, while Tris was screaming, crying about how much she loved him, and if he died, she would, too, and threatening to jump, as well.
Once he was back on the yacht, safe, and the adults were otherwise occupied, he told the boys that he was going to do more to Tris than feel her up; he was going to marry her one day, so they could fuck off. Since then, everyone, including the boys, have backed off. No one wants a Montague and Capulet type ending on their conscience.
A year later, Tris finally found out what really had happened—Marcello had never told her. Her only sentence to me for a week was, “You betrayed me.”
While we all celebrated the switching of schools, she mourned silently and denied it to each of us.
Let’s be honest here, those two most definitely need the distance, or Kiki’s pregnant at eighteen won’t be the biggest upset on the Steel playing field.
“BTW, Truth, Reeves does like you,” Tris states.
“No.” I laugh.
“Let us all remember that, amongst us, I am the relationship expert,” Tris states as if it’s gospel and looks at Kiki. “Three years, Kiki, three.”
“It would also answer the question as to why he is being all protective of you,” Brisa says, eyes sparkling as she interjects her theory. “Maybe your initial attraction to him wasn’t a crush, T. Maybe it was a second chance romance in the making.”
“Whatever,” Kiki snaps. “He’s a dick. He hit on me and …” She snaps her mouth shut, and we all start laughing, including Kiki. She shrugs. “Gotta admit, he’s no Brand.”
“Possibly a more refined version though, huh?” Brisa asks sweetly.
Kiki nearly trips as she glares at her. “Are you kidding me? Brand was born fine. There was no need to ‘re’ anything about my man.”
Brisa laughs. “I’m just saying, sometimes all a person needs is a ‘re’ brand to change things up a bit.”
“Rebrand this.” Kiki flips her off, and we all start laughing even harder.
I will admit, to only myself of course, that when he put Gabrielle in her place, I expected it to be a part of some sadistic plan, and although it’s only been half a day, I can’t help but wonder if he does actually like me. Or is he trying to set me up for some horrific fall?
The door opens and in walks a beast of a boy, wearing crisp white Nike tennis shoes with a gray swoosh, dark gray sweatpants, a white Nike hoodie with a matching gray swoosh, hood up of course, airpods in his ears, scrolling through his phone and giving zero shits about his surroundings.
Christ, why does he have to be that hot? And why does every article of clothing I’ve seen him in—and let’s be honest, not seen him in—look like it’s a new layer of skin, and he has that gives a damn less attitude that all women find extremely sexy?
He is legitimately walking into a fitness center, with a total of eight people in it, and it happens to be the lion’s den of Steel crew, and he’s unaware.
He nods at his screen, and his full lips quip up with what seems to be amusement, which has thus far been like spotting a sabertooth tiger which, from an eighth-grade report I did, I distinctly remember it being on the top ten list of extinct animals. Also, of the somewhat extinc
t—no, scratch that—newly discovered subject is a pooling heat between the slight quivering of my thighs.
Oh, hell no! I scold my nether regions with an emphasis on the hell and the no.
“Is that Shades?” Kiki whispers from behind me.
I turn and see her looking in the mirror.
“That’s Tobias Easton,” Brisa sneers.
Barbells drop in the distance, causing Tobias to look up. His eyes meet mine in the mirror and annoyance floods his far too handsome for a douchebag face.
“So, Shades is Tobias Easton, huh?” Kiki says, turning off her machine and turning around.
Fingers pinched together, he taps them on his forehead before rubbing them down his face.
I see Justice strip off the gloves he’s been wearing to beat on the bag and walk toward us.
Fuck, I think as I try to get to Justice first, only managing to trip over my own freaking lunch pail and get righted real quick by none other than the head horseman.
“Get your hands off my sister!” Justice booms.
Tobias shakes his head as he lets go of my hips and huffs, “Right, my bad.” He steps over my lunch pail that’s strapped around my booted foot, and heads to the treadmill farthest from us.
“You good, T?” Justice asks, squatting down and pulling the strap off my boot.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Is he gonna just act like we aren’t here?” my cousin Max says loud enough so that everyone hears him.
“Chill, Max.” Patrick chuckles as he musses up his hair. “Save it for Saturday.”
“Why don’t we just do it now?” Amias asks, wiping his hair with a towel.
