Justified Steel (Steel Crew Book 4)

by Mj Fields

  She narrows her eyes for a split-second before looking at Patrick. “You guys did take Global at Saint Mary’s in tenth, right?”

  “Yeah, why?” Patrick answers.

  She looks back at me smugly. “Not all of Colombia is south of the equator.” She looks at the guys. “Most of it is on top.” All the girls start giggling. She looks back at Dad. “Sorry, Mr. Steel.”

  “Don’t be sorry for being badass, Gabs.”

  “Except that one time,” Jase says, and she looks at him.

  “Again, I’m sorry,” she says with the most sincere and fake as fuck tone.

  “Again, forgiven.” He winks, buying into her bullshit. “Sunday, come by the house. Joint baby shower, noon to four. Bring your appetite.”

  “She’s doing pretty shitty in English class, and we have an e—”

  Motherfucker, I scream in my head when she stomps on my foot, hard as fuck, too.

  “Exam,” I finish.

  “Then you should study at our house after,” Mom suggests. “Patrick, too.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Patrick smiles as he looks at me. Fucker.

  Uncle Xavier starts laughing. “Gotta ask the obvious.”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t,” I say through my clenched teeth.

  Gabrielle leans forward.

  “Was it last Friday night?” he asks her, and they all laugh, including her.

  She shrugs, grabs my hand, and smiles. “Someone had to save him from himself.” Then she looks at my parents and covers her face, doing this shy girl impression shit. “Can’t lie; he’s got a great butt, too.”

  As the table erupts in laughter, she leans in and whispers to me, “Keep trying to make me look stupid, and I’ll make it my mission to do the same.”

  She tries to let go of my hand, but I hold hers tighter.

  “Cute, Gabrielle, real cute.” I force a laugh, joining my family.

  When the food comes, I finally let go of her paw.

  “About freaking time,” she whisper-hisses as she passes me the breadbasket.

  “Felt like a million excruciating lifetimes, Queenie. Lifetimes where I considered throwing myself in front of a fucking bus every second of every single minute, just to get the hell away from you.”

  She narrows her eyes and looks away, and for that, and the silence that follows, I’m grateful.

  “We have an announcement,” Abe says once everyone’s passed around the family-style meal. “The girls would like to start their junior year at Seashore Academy.”

  “Ours, too,” Valentina announces.

  “Baseball team’s better at Seashore, obviously.” Sabato nods. “The company, too.” He looks at Mel. “You and the kids win this battle.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gabrielle reach under the table and grab Tris’s hand. What’s even more fucked up? I catch Tris looking at her in a way Tris doesn’t look … at anyone.

  Gabrielle pushes her chair out and stands. “Please excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  When Tris follows her, I wonder what the fuck that’s all about.

  I give Brisa a look, and she excuses herself, as well. Then I catch Marcello winking at one of my cousins.

  Once back at the table, Brisa, Tris, and Gabrielle seem to be just fine, and now I’m even more confused.

  After a short time, Gabrielle, who hasn’t eaten shit but a piece of bread, makes some lame-ass excuse to leave, and I offer to walk her out.

  Once outside, she quickens her steps, thinking she’s going to outrun her reality. Newsflash: she’s not.

  When she attempts to open her door, I reach around and hold it shut.

  “You planning on making threats because I stomped on your foot, save it,” she says as she turns and looks up at me. “I’m not afraid of you, Justice. You wanna know why?”

  “Don’t really give a damn. I’ve had mosquitos bite me harder than that foot-stomping shit under the table.” Total lie.

  “Then tell me, why after you bent over backward to make me feel …” She pauses and turns around. “Never mind, Justice. Just leave me alone. Torment me at school.”

  She tries to open the door, and for some fucking reason, I don’t let her.

  “Don’t make me go back in there and talk to your—”

  “Leave my fucking family out of this twisted shit.”

  “Gotcha. Now move.”

  “That’s all you got?” I ask, annoyed and wanting her to fight with me.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I huff, “Enjoy your fucking mansion and your nannies.” Then I walk.

  Sitting in the hospital parking lot, having listened to Tobias’s spiel, which was the same as the night at Gabrielle’s party, but hearing it sober was necessary, especially since I already basically sold my soul.

  When I told him I wanted Quinn back in, he asked me if I knew what I was doing.

  My answer: “Absolutely.”

  Then he suggested we take a ride, so I follow him over to Bayside.

  He pulls into a parking lot and motions for me to come over.

  I hop out of my ride and climb in his.

  “Problem with my vehicle?” I joke.

  “I’m used to it, but Quinn’s crew may find it offensive,” he says, throwing his truck in gear.

  Annoyed, I point out the obvious. “That’s a them problem now, isn’t it?”

  “Not if you’re going to insist on them being part of it, even though you obviously know it’s gonna cause issues. Then no, JT, that becomes a you problem.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I scoff.

  “Like you’re handling Gabrielle?”

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I see her trying, and I see you pushing every button possible.”

  Pissed, I lay down some truth. “You tossed that little bitch at me, and—”

  “Your sister let go of her animosity; thought you were man enough to do the same.”

  “My sister is forgiving. Me, not so much.”

  Pulling up in front of a dilapidated house, he puts it in park. “She’s a huge part of this. Without her parties, some of the Bayside crew wouldn’t be able to put food on their tables.” He opens his door and slides out before I have a chance to say shit.

  Stepping out, I watch Tobias grab a bag out of the back of his truck, and then another.

  “Grab those bags, will you?”

  I reach in, grab two grocery bags, and then follow him to the door.

  He knocks, and when it opens, Quinn’s holding a crying kid. Yet to see me, she shakes her head. “Don’t need your charity, Tobias. I need more work.”

  “Speak for yourself.” I hear a kid say as he pushes past her and takes the bags. “Thanks, Tobias.”

  “No problem, Nolan.” Tobias smiles.

  “You get fever reducer?” Nolan calls to Tobias as he walks into the house.

  “Get any clothes?” another voice, a female, calls out.

  And another, “Or a sugar Daddy? Quinn could use one of those!”

  “Dede, you keep talking shit like that, I’ll send you back home to your junkie parents,” Quinn snaps at the girl.

  “Just saying, it would make things easier,” the girl calls back.

  “Easy isn’t always better.”

  “Told the new guy I was ready to work,” Nolan says as I walk in behind Tobias.

  “You’re one of them now. Play the part,” Quinn tells him.

  “Yeah, you and Quinn are our way out,” a boy younger than Nolan says as he takes the baby.

  “No, you’re your way out. That is, if you can keep your ass out of fights and in school,” Quinn says as she starts unloading one of the bags that Nolan set on the counter.

  Four kids and Quinn packed into a house that looks like it’s about to fall down.

  When I set the other bags on the counter, she and Nolan look up at me.

  “Jesus Christ, just what I needed,” she complains as she looks sternly at Tobias. �
��Really?”

  “Really,” he says, pulling out a stool and sitting beside the counter full of clutter.

  I nod. “What’s up?”

  “You coming to offer me a better gig than making Gabrielle sit next to you in English class?” Nolan grins.

  Quinn glares at me, and then looks at Nolan. “Your job is to get through school, graduate, and get a damn scholarship to college so you don’t have to do the shit I’m doing.”

  Nolan shrugs. “You don’t have to work a full-time job and find side hustles if you get rid of these punks.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder at the others in the living room.

  “Those punks will be getting booted if I keep getting called out of class, taking calls from principals.”

  I look at Tobias, and he narrows his eyes a bit. I nod once.

  “Both of you, outside now,” Quinn snaps.

  “See you tomorrow, JT.” Nolan laughs as I follow Tobias and Quinn outside.

  As soon as the door is shut behind me, she goes off.

  “You.” She points at me. “I don’t need Nolan getting any closer to that bitch than he has to be. He’s a fucking genius. He has a shot at getting out of this hole.”

  She’s not lying about him being smart. He’s all of fourteen and already taking AP classes.

  She points at Tobias next. “I don’t need you dragging him here on one of your charity runs!”

  “Not charity if you’re not asking for it, Quinn; it’s a gift.”

  “And I’m not your responsibility!”

  “And neither are they! So, shut up and accept some help once in a while,” he sighs.

  “Put that little bitch on a leash and give me some work so I don’t need it.”

  Tobias shakes his head. “You make extra money, you’ll just fill this place up with kids until your cupboards are emptied quicker and you’re taking on extra shifts so you take another four years to finish your schooling.”

  “Not your concern,” she snaps.

  He shrugs. “I guess, if you’re cool with Nolan seeing you—a woman as equally smart as he is—not being able to pull it off, he may as well give up, too.”

  “Fuck you,” she snaps.

  He shrugs as he walks off the porch. “It’s up to you, Quinn.”

  She swings her gaze on me. “Keep him away from them. Find me work.”

  “You’re not gonna like me any better,” I say as she turns to open the door.

  She turns back around. “I can assure you, I like you even less already.”

  I shrug. “Then listen to me, and listen to me good. If I find you work, you’re gonna have to smile in her face and make nice. If I find a way to make that happen, you sure as fuck need to find some time to prioritize your shit, putting you up close to the top so they can see that.”

  I step past her, open the door, and yell in, “You little shits better not be in trouble at school and help clean this fucking place up. Show some goddammed respect!”

  As I shut the door behind me, I hear one of the girls say, “Can I get some new damn shoes if I do?”

  Quinn shakes her head.

  “You put a leash on them, I’ll work on Gabrielle. And, Quinn, if I ever come here with bags of groceries and you give me shit, I won’t be back.”

  Sliding in Tobias’s ride, I look over at him. He doesn’t say shit, so I do.

  “Understood.”

  “But how deep does that understanding go?” he asks.

  “Deep enough.”

  “You still think giving her work is a good idea?” he asks, starting his truck.

  “You know I do.”

  “Then you make it okay with Gabrielle.”

  “That’s not your business anymore.”

  “You don’t live the life I have with that mindset.”

  “Same ocean, man, different fucking boat,” I grumble.

  “Exactly,” he says, pulling away from the curb.

  Driving back toward home, I know damn well what I need to do. Nothing has changed. I didn’t need to see a shitty house run by a twenty-something-year-old woman, raising kids, most of which aren’t her own. I didn’t need to see her shit on Tobias’s “good deed” to know the girl has pride. I could tell by the way she looked that she took pride in herself. If that weren’t enough, after hearing her story about getting knocked up by one of Seashore’s elite and not going after him in fear she’d lose a kid, catch a charge, because some fuck lied to her about his age, and flashed a fake ID.

  “That’s fucked up on so many levels!”

  Pissed at Gabrielle, I decide to drop in and tell her what’s up.

  Buckle Up

  Gabrielle

  While fluffing my pillow, my phone rings, and I blindly answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “The fucking gate code, Gabrielle. Now.”

  “Casa Morales-Ortez is closed. Try again … never.” I hang up, and before I even get my phone back on the charger, it rings again.

  “I’ll drive through this—”

  “Do it, bully.” I hang up again, knowing damn well he has more respect for his parents than to pull something like that.

  I fluff my pillow again, determined to sleep in my damn bed tonight.

  I’m almost comfortable, almost, when the alarm system starts screaming.

  I grab my robe and put it on as I rush down the stairs to get the thing shut off so that the system doesn’t call the security company, and the one bill I make sure is paid on time doesn’t get a service call added to it.

  After shutting it down, I start back up the stairs when “someone” starts banging on the door.

  I unlock four deadbolts, keep the chain lock secured, and open the door just enough to tell him, “Go away.”

  “You forget I own—”

  “You don’t own me, and you never will!” I snap. “And I don’t give a damn what threats you make. You were rude and degrading to me again, but this time in front of your entire family.”

  “You showed up to my family—”

  “Trust me; I was only there because—” I snap my mouth shut so I don’t spill Tris’s secret.

  “Because you’re a thirsty little—”

  I shut the door in his face, and he resumes beating on it.

  I crack it once more to tell him, “You may feel like it’s your right to be disrespectful to me because of our past, but that was a long time ago. Get over it. I had to! And you don’t get to disrupt my entire household because you’re throwing a mantrum. Leave. Now.”

  I wait for the pounding to continue, but thankfully, it doesn’t.

  After re-locking the door and arming the alarm, I make my way back up the stairs and to my room.

  Pulling down my driveway to head to school, I hit the button to open the gate. Turning down the blind curve, I nearly piss myself when I see Justice’s vehicle reversing up the driveway.

  I lay on my horn, and he leans out of his window to yell, “Back it up.”

  “No!”

  “Then we’ll both be late.”

  I lay on the horn. “Move!”

  When I hear his radio turn up, I’m tempted to bump the back of his freaking vehicle, but that would make me even later than I planned to be.

  I throw my car in reverse and stomp on the gas, reversing all the way up my driveway, pissed.

  I get out of my car, lean back in, grab my bag, and then slam my door. Walking to his passenger side door, I open it and climb in, telling him, “This is unnecessary.”

  “No shit,” he huffs.

  “Then why do it?” I throw my hands in the air. “Why freaking bother?”

  “Stop bitching and buckle your damn seat belt,” he says as he shifts into drive.

  “As if I’d trust you enough not to buckle it,” I mumble under my breath as I buckle in, but obviously not low enough.

  “You’re one to talk about trust,” he scoffs.

  “You know what, Justice—”

  “I know a lot. And let me clear the fucking air,
Queenie. I talked to Tris last night, and I know what went down, I also know you helped her out. Don’t read anything deeper into this than, because of that, I came to pick you up, like you’d mentioned—”

  “I’ll buy that, but why else? Did your parents tell you what an asshole you were, so you felt you had to apologize?”

  He turns up the volume, and I turn it down.

  “Oh my God.” I laugh. “They did. You got in trouble by your parents for being a dick.”

  “Think what you want, Queenie, but here’s the drill. I can compromise a little bit—and I’m talking a very little fucking bit—as long as you can do the same.”

  “Now I have options?” I laugh in anger and in frustration.

  He doesn’t say anything. He simply pulls his aviators down and pulls onto the road.

  Justice pulls over at a diner of some sort that I’ve never even noticed, let alone realized there was a drive-thru window.

  “What do you want?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, arms crossed, looking out the window.

  “You’re gonna eat something, for fuck’s sake. You’re smaller than you were when you were tw—” He stops.

  Twelve, he was going to say smaller than when I was twelve. What I wouldn’t do to go back to that age.

  “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “To be twelve again,” I whisper so he won’t hear me.

  “Queenie,” he says, and I look at him, thinking maybe he did hear me. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  A horn sounds from behind us—clearly, someone’s in a hurry—and Justice pulls forward and gives me the answer-my-damn-question look.

  “Coffee.”

  “Gabrielle, this isn’t that damn difficult,” he says, frustrated again.

  “Whatever is fine.”

  He leans out the window as he tells the guy at the order window, “Ten breakfast burritos, loaded. Two coffees, black.”

  “Sugar and almond milk,” I say.

  “You catch that?” Justice asks him.

  “Got it, man,” he replies.

  Justice hands him his card and pays before pulling forward.

  When we arrive at school, I’ve finished half of the biggest mess of breakfast food that I have ever had in my entire life as Justice crumples up his second empty wrapper in one hand and tosses it into the bag.