Unwritten Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  They quietly sneaked in through the back door of the old apartment complex Ian had claimed as the North Side’s spot and parted ways, leaving Haze to fend for himself. He took a sharp breath, knocking on the old apartment door loudly. The room immediately became quiet on the other side.

  Footsteps. Then nothing.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Seriously? A wooden door? I could kick the door in right now. I thought you were more careful than that.”

  “Yeah, well, few people know about this place. We’re not worried.” Ian unlocked the door and pushed it open, forcing a smile at the sight of Haze. “Come on in, partner.”

  He stepped aside as Haze walked into the three-bedroom apartment where the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and weed greeted him. Everywhere around him, Ian’s boys were drinking, smoking, or making out with escorts.

  Some gangs were worse than others.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink? A girl perhaps?”

  Simultaneously, two girls wearing lingerie looked up.

  “No, I’m good. I won’t be long.”

  “You’re the boss.” He paused, motioning for Haze to sit at the poker table placed in the center of the room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ian brought a joint to his lips, sinking into his seat.

  “Just looking for a chat.”

  “About what, my friend?”

  “I wanted to congratulate you on the East Side girl’s kidnapping. Kendrick and his guys are a wreck right now.”

  “Oh, I’m flattered, man.”

  Haze dived his hand into his pocket, ready to press Send on the prewritten message. If Ian was responsible, the East Side would be there in a couple of minutes.

  “But I can’t take credit for something I didn’t do.” Ian took a sip of his drink.

  God damn it, Haze thought, removing his hand from his pocket.

  “Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?” Haze struggled to keep a stern face.

  Ian leaned back in his seat, frowning.

  “You know, Haze… if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say that you seem to care a hell of a lot about that girl.”

  Haze stiffened. “I don’t. Just wondering who I have to thank for destroying my enemies, that’s all. I thought we had an alliance.” He got up. “I’ll go tell the others I was wrong.”

  He turned away, heading for the door.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  “Wait,” Ian called.

  Haze smirked. Predictable. Having the West Side as an enemy was something no one wanted.

  “Haze, man, chill, no need to get angry,” Ian faltered.

  “I came here looking for answers that you refuse to give me. I’m afraid that’s not what an ally would do.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “Don’t bother. I think I’ll go ask Vicky. Maybe she knows more than you do.”

  The second Vicky’s name was announced, the conversations going on around them ended abruptly. Ian clenched his fists, his fighters glaring at Haze hatefully. It was well known in the street fight world that falling in love made you weak, but it didn’t stop the fighters from wanting someone to come home to.

  It was human nature at its best.

  “She’s got nothing to do with this. Leave her out of this.”

  “Neither did Winter, and she still got taken. Looks like there’s no such thing as justice, you see?”

  “The girl’s probably already dead. Do yourself a favor, man. Move on.”

  Haze laughed. “Is that what you do if it were Vicky?”

  Ian went from annoyed to pissed.

  “I’ve got backup—a lot of backup. You’re going to tell me where you keep her, or I’m blowing this place up.”

  Ian reached for his pocket.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I see one of you pull out a gun and we’re all dead.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I?”

  “That would kill you, too.”

  Ian’s words sneaked into Haze’s thoughts.

  The girl’s probably already dead.

  “How are you so sure I have something to live for?”

  “I didn’t take your damn girl, Haze. Why would I do that? We had an alliance.”

  “According to her phone, you did.” Haze selected the conversation. “’Watch out for the scars,’ really? You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

  “I never sent her that. Think about it. Did it ever occur to you that I’ve been set up?”

  Only a fool wouldn’t have considered that option. But Haze refused to look further into it. Because if he was right, if Ian had been set up by the other person he had in mind, everything was going to change. Everything would collapse. One of Ian’s guys got his gun out before Haze could retract himself. Out of all the directions the bullet could’ve taken, it decided to hit the wall, inches away from his head. The gunshot was the East Side’s cue. They kicked the door in, throwing the homemade smoke bomb Haze had stolen from his brother’s stash mere hours after Winter’s disappearance. He still couldn’t believe how many weapons and bombs his brother had locked up in their house. Making the most out of the North Side’s momentary blindness, they dashed down the stairs and into the vehicle waiting for them out front. The car took off in a roar, screeching around the corner at full speed.

  “How did you get him so scared?” Blake asked, panting.

  “Threatened his girl. Always works.”

  “That’s all?” Alexander added, glancing in the rearview mirror, the fear of being followed eating him alive.

  “I may also have pretended that there was a bomb,” Haze said. Distant smiles tugged at the corners of their lips. Enemy or not, the guy was good.

  Kendrick glowered. “The entire building was empty. That’s not where they’re keeping her.”

  “I know. I think we got it all wrong.”

  “What? Why?” Will said.

  “We’ve been set up. It wasn’t Ian.”

  “You got someone else in mind?” Kendrick blew out a breath.

  The veins in Haze’s neck bulged in exasperation. Saying it would make it official. It would make it real… and Haze wasn’t quite ready for that.

  “Yes… And I hope I’m wrong.”

  S E V E N T E E N

  Lost

  WINTER

  You know that moment when something you thought would never happen to you, happens to you?

  That moment you realize that you’re not going to wake up in your bed, that you take for granted because you’ve never actually had to find out what it’s like to sleep on the floor, and sigh in relief because it was just a dream? That’s what I’ve been going through ever since I woke up. Who knows how long I’ve been knocked out. Hours? Days maybe?

  My head hurts so bad.

  Scratch that, my entire body hurts so bad.

  I’m lying on a cement floor. It’s cold. Hard. This leads me to assume that I’m in a basement, which are only a thing in higher areas in Florida. We’re not anywhere near Maria’s neighborhood.

  That’s the closest I can get to knowing where I am.

  Tight ropes circle my legs and wrists as a blindfold presses against my eyes. The large piece of duct tape covering my mouth gives me no other choice but to use the only sense available to me: hearing.

  I focus on the squeaking sounds and footsteps on what seems to be an old wooden floor above my head. Everything about this place says no one will ever find you here.

  Fun.

  They tossed my phone at the scene, which doesn’t seem smart if, like I suspect, the North Side is responsible. Kendrick and the guys will find my phone—if it still works at all—and figure it out.

  This can only mean one of two things: Ian is new to this whole kidnapping thin
g, or everything he does is for a reason and it’s all part of a bigger picture.

  All I know is, evil plan or not, the only thing keeping me going is the hope that Kendrick will find me. Too bad my luck has run dry too many times in the past for me to get my hopes up. I’m the girl who gets her head stuck in a damn helmet for God’s sake. Where’s the luck in that?

  I haven’t screamed since I woke up, terrified I’ll do nothing but catch my kidnappers’ attention and bring an even worse fate upon myself. But I know that if there’s even half a chance that someone could hear me, I have to try.

  So I do. I scream as loud as I can through the tape blocking my mouth. Over and over again. Just then, the footsteps stop.

  “She’s awake,” I hear a deep voice mumble.

  The only bright side is, I can hear everything they say. If I do get out of here, I might know exactly who took me. When the door creaks open and footsteps come down the stairs, I know that I was right. This is a basement. My first instinct is to close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping.

  “I thought you said she was awake,” a husky voice says.

  “She is. I heard her.”

  “What do we do with her?”

  “Now…” He pauses and says the one sentence that makes me wish they’d killed me at the Downside instead. “We have some fun.”

  “She’s pretty cute, isn’t she?” They sound older—multiple years older. I might not be able to see their faces, but my guess is they have the creepy looks to go with the voices.

  “He said not to touch the girl,” Man Number Two reprimands.

  “He doesn’t have to know.”

  “He’ll find out. He knows everything.” His voice quakes with fear.

  I hear one of them take a step forward.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, man, relax.”

  Tears well in my eyes. A hand is laid on my shoulder, pressing onto my skin. It moves downward to my chest. I start to wiggle, desperate to get his hand off me. I thank the Lord when the second stranger takes care of that for me.

  “Back off, Owen. I’m serious,” he threatens.

  Owen. I got a name.

  “Damn it, don’t you know what fun means?”

  “I know what trouble means, and that’s what we’re going to get into if anything happens to that girl before he says so.”

  Before he says so? This means that Ian is only keeping me safe to make sure he can hurt me later at his convenience.

  “What’s so special about that girl anyway?” Owen spits.

  “Haze Adams and the East Side would throw themselves in the fire to keep her from harm’s way. That’s what’s special. Let’s go. Girl might not see, but she still got ears.”

  They go back up the stairs, slamming the door and bolting multiple locks on the other side. I let out a breath, relieved that it’s finally over… Or at least, for now.

  E I G H T E E N

  The Ugly Truth

  EXTERN

  “He’s late.” Kendrick hissed in impatience. The only sound occupying the Kingston kitchen was the tapping of his foot tapping against the floor. The broad-shouldered fighter stood tall with his arms crossed against his chest.

  “He’ll be there soon. Relax,” Haze replied.

  “Can we trust him?” Blake asked.

  “Devon’s never let me down before.”

  “You’re not answering my question, jackass.”

  “Listen, trustworthy or not, Devon’s our best option right now, so shut up and deal with it.”

  It was the morning of day two. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had been taken God knew where by God knew who. Day two was usually the day the kidnapper called to either ask for money or something along those lines. But nothing. Just dreadful silence. It was like whoever took Winter only wanted her gone.

  A loud thump on the door interrupted the horrible scenarios spinning in Kendrick’s head.

  “Finally.” He opened the door.

  The fighter took a sudden step back when the weary-looking guy standing on his porch pushed past him and walked inside the house. He looked around twenty-three years old, wore full-rimmed glasses, torn jeans, and a gray T-shirt with nonidentifiable stains on it. Kendrick’s first impression was that he looked like the definition of the video-game addict who spent the majority of his time in his parents’ basement.

  “Thanks for coming.” Haze motioned to sit down at the table.

  Devon nodded, glancing around the room in an unbothered yet strangely judgmental way.

  “Is this your first time doing this?” Kendrick asked.

  Devon didn’t reply and looked straight into Kendrick’s eyes as a reply. He then dropped his backpack on the kitchen tiles and unzipped it.

  Will mocked, “Okay? That’s not creepy at all.”

  “Devon’s a man of little words,” Haze replied.

  Kendrick repeated, “Has he ever done this before?”

  “Yes. Now, stop talking and let him do his job.”

  Devon sat down at the kitchen table and got a computer out of his backpack. Ten minutes later everything was set up, and although Will, Kendrick, Alex, and Blake had no clue what was happening, they tried their best to pretend they did.

  One look from Devon was all it took for Haze to understand.

  “It’s ready,” Haze said.

  Static.

  A couple of rings.

  Then a voice.

  “Hey, it’s me. I’m naked on my bed waiting for you.”

  The East Side chuckled immaturely, trading glances.

  “Not tonight, Rose. I’m busy.”

  “With what?”

  “I’ve got this thing. Sorry.”

  “Is it another girl? It’s Chloe, isn’t it?”

  “No, Rose, just drop it.”

  “It’s another fight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

  There was no response.

  “Yeah, okay, got it. Don’t call me ever again.”

  “Rose, wait—”

  The line went dead.

  “Really? A booty call? That’s all we get? I thought tapping the phone was supposed to be the answer,” Kendrick critiqued.

  “It is.” Haze paused. “The number who sent Winter those text messages will lead us right to the person responsible. It’s the fastest way to track them. All we need is a little clue.”

  “Then what?” Will asked.

  “We wait. Even if we do find out who’s responsible, we can’t just attack without preparation. We don’t know where they’re keeping her. Or how many of them there are.”

  Devon looked at Haze and motioned to get closer to the table, pointing at his computer screen.

  “The booty call happened an hour before the fight and Winter’s kidnapping,” Haze read out loud.

  Haze locked eyes with Devon, and he didn’t need to speak for him to understand.

  “We got another call.”

  Crackling noises.

  A couple of rings.

  Then a voice.

  “Hey, man. I just wanted to call and let you know that… well… rumors are spreading.”

  “About what?”

  “You know what. The girl’s really starting to be a problem.”

  A long silence followed.

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Thanks, Tanner.”

  The line disconnected.

  “I—” Haze opened his mouth to speak but ended up closing it.

  He immediately pulled himself together like he’d realized that this was not the time to have a “damn it, my brother’s evil” moment.

  “How could you not recognize your brother’s number?” Kendrick finally asked.

  “I don’t have this one registered in my phone. He’s got two different lines apparently.”

  “What do we do now?” Will asked hesitantly.
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  Kendrick could sense his friends’ fears and doubts from a mile away. He couldn’t help but be afraid that Haze wouldn’t be willing to do what it took now that it involved his own blood.

  “The only thing we can do.” He let out a heavy sigh. “We bust his ass and save the girl.”

  “NICE PLACE,” WILLIAM SAID IN AWE of the Adams house. It’d been a while since Haze had stopped to look around and feel grateful for the life of luxury his parents had given him. He heard the admiration in Will’s voice and couldn’t help but find a hint of irony in the situation.

  Crazy how one’s curse can be somebody else’s blessing, he thought.

  Some had the loving parents.

  Some had the big house and money.

  Haze had yet to meet someone with both.

  When he saw Tanner’s cars parked in the driveway, he mentally battled himself on whether or not he was ready to face him.

  “We need a cue. A word I’ll say to let you know I need backup,” Haze reminded them as he set up the microphone he planned to hide under his jacket. It was directly connected to the East Side.

  “Okay, huh… what about ‘do you think my ass looks fat in these jeans’?” William cracked up.

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Fine, then just say…” Kendrick was interrupted by a Destiny’s Child song on the radio. “Bootylicious. Fit the word ‘bootylicious’ in a sentence, any sentence, and we’ll come to the rescue.”

  “Really?” Haze fought the urge to face-palm himself.

  “Really.” Kendrick smirked.

  Haze made a face and got out of the car, walking toward the house he used to call home. He felt his heart tightening in his chest. The lame humor really was a family thing. That’s something Winter would’ve said.

  He walked through the front door, feeling like a pure stranger in this place he knew so well, and fixed the microphone under his leather jacket one last time.

  “Tanner, you home?” he shouted.

  “In here,” Tanner called from the living room. “Hey,” he said at the sight of his younger brother walking in and sunk deeper into the couch.

  “It’s been a while.” Haze forced a smile.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not my fault you’re constantly running around with the East Side chick,” Tanner said, getting a cigarette out of a pack.