Crew (Crew #1)

“Yeah?” Cross was on the phone with his sister.

We’d returned to Jordan’s, and all of us now stood around Cross’ truck, waiting for the final word.

He bent his head down. “The girls left then?”

Taz was talking. We could hear her voice, but not what she was saying.

“They went to Manny’s?” His eyes lifted to mine.

I could read his mind.

Fuck.

Heather ran Manny’s. She was in charge of the grill while her brother ran the bar. It was a popular hangout for Normals. Anyone who went to Fallen Crest, our neighboring town, was trying to be uppity. Fallen Crest was rich. Millionaires lived there, and knowing Sunday had gone there with the other cheerleaders pissed me off.

Roussou was blue collar.

We were supposed to stay local.

We didn’t get fancy college degrees, or if we did, it was a community college or technical school. I mean, yeah, there were some who left for those nice universities, but they rarely came back. They were usually not crew.

Heather was different. She lived there. She’d gone to school there, but Sunday—she was reaching above her station. My need to stir shit up went from a fun zone to a pissed-off zone.

“Okay. Thanks.” Cross ended his call and looked at us. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. “Apparently, they’ve been hanging out in Fallen Crest all summer. Manny’s is their new go-to.”

A resounding silence showed our enthusiasm.

Jordan folded his arms over his chest. “Fuck that.”

Even Zellman’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck they doing there? Sunday hoping to land some rich prick?”

Cross’ top lip curled, but he looked only at me. “What do you want to do?”





We had to work fast.

We took Jordan’s truck. As soon as he parked next to Sunday’s car, Zellman jumped to the ground from the bed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and moved slowly. He looked like he was out for a stroll.

Cross hopped out next to me and laughed. “He just needs a little bird to perch on his shoulder.”

A second later, Zellman whistled as he headed inside Manny’s.

“Let’s go.” Jordan stepped around us, using a machine to make quick work of the lug nuts.

I was the lookout, and I settled behind the car next to Sunday’s, positioned so I could see through the window, but people coming out couldn’t see me. I could hear Cross and Jordan working behind me.

They moved fast and efficiently. This wasn’t the first car we’d done.

They set the jack in place, removed the hubcap. The lug nuts were loosened, and the car was jacked up. It wasn’t long before I heard the first tire being taken off. Jordan put it aside as Cross grabbed a cinder block. The jack lowered the car, and they were on to the next tire.

The second and third tires went just as quickly. I waited until right before they got the fourth one off, then headed inside.

I was part signal, and part of the con too.

Cross and Jordan would finish up outside, storing Sunday’s tires in the trees so we couldn’t be labeled thieves. They always put them close to the vehicle, but they were still a bitch to find. If people knew us, knew our ways, they’d just go look for the tires. That only happened once—when we did this to my brother.

I laughed to myself, remembering that night.

Manny’s was full, which didn’t surprise me. There were Fallen Crest students in the front section. I was walking past the grill counter when Heather came out of her office. She stopped in the hallway, a bunch of papers in her hand, and frowned at me.

“Hey.” Her frown faded, but I saw her wheels turning. Her forehead wrinkled. “I thought you were supposed to be at Channing’s tonight.”

Channing. Wha… My wheels started working, and I cursed.

She grinned, stuffing her papers into her pocket. “Totally forgot?” She gestured behind her. “I thought I saw Zellman a few minutes ago. Is your crew here?”

“No!” Too much. I coughed. “No. I came to pick him up.”

She twisted around, looking into the back section. “Okay, but listen.” Her hand came to my arm.

I looked down at it.

Why was Heather touching me? Like she was comforting me? This wasn’t our normal interaction. She’d get uncomfortable, then I’d get more uncomfortable, and you never knew who would cut out first.

It was me this time.

I stepped away from her hand and pointed behind her. “I gotta go.”

“Okay, but—”

I brushed past her.

“Call your brother, Bren! He’ll worry otherwise.”

It wasn’t just annoyance rolling around in my gut. I stepped into the back room, and I felt my hands shaking a little.

What was that about?

“You disappeared today.”

Race Ryerson stood in front of me, drink in hand.

God, I didn’t like this guy. He was coming at me like he knew me, or like he wanted to know me.

He’d changed clothes since this morning. He wore lightweight black sweatpants and a black hoodie. The clothes molded to his form, showing off his arm muscles and broad chest. He had the hood pulled up too. It would’ve looked ridiculous on another guy, but it only added a mysterious appeal in his case. I skimmed the room and saw that it was working. A few girls were sneaking looks at him.

I gestured to his drink. “Your fake must be pretty good to get alcohol in here.”

He looked down at it, then back at me, a faint grin on his mouth. “The soda came from the counter. Alex snuck the liquor in.”

I heard Alex’s laugh and Sunday’s giggle, and I turned around.

Alex’s group was here—not all of them, but a fair amount of the teenagers and a few who’d graduated with Drake. Some were playing pool. Others were throwing darts, and Alex was at the biggest table, his arms around two girls like he was holding court. I narrowed my eyes, scanning for Zellman, but I didn’t see him.

“Since when do we hang out at Manny’s?” I asked under my breath, not expecting a response. I had a feeling they came more than I thought.

“It was my idea.”

I turned back to Race. His grin became more pronounced.

“Drake told me about this place, and since it’s my first day here, Alex asked where I wanted to go.” He looked behind me to Sunday and the other cheerleaders. “The rest found us.”

“Hey, hey!”

Alex’s voice no longer came from across the room.

I braced myself as Race looked behind me. An arm came down on my shoulder. I was jerked against Alex’s side.

Stop…

I whispered that word to myself in my head.

Breathe.

I was in Heather’s place. I could smell the booze on Alex’s breath. I could feel the sweat, the heat from his body. Race looked completely sober, but Alex was not. He was weaving, half-using me for balance.

My instincts were to lash out.

No one touched me against my will—a point I’d reminded him of twelve hours earlier—but he was drunk. And this is Heather’s place. This is Heather’s. I couldn’t cause a fight… Not here.

Race’s smile dropped. His eyes sharpened in alarm. “Hey, cuz. Why don’t you step back from her.”

“What?”

I could feel Alex’s body become rigid.

He hadn’t noticed that mine already was.

“No—” he started to growl, but suddenly he was gone.

I saw it in slow motion.

Sunday stepped up next to us with a high-pitched giggle. Then it dropped low in my head and faded out. Everything moved at a slower pace. She looked behind me, her eyes widening, her laugh changing to a yell. Race lifted his head to look too, craning to see behind me. Alex tensed even more, stiffening up.

I could see another girl’s hair lift in the air as she suddenly dropped in position to jump out of the way.

It all clicked in the back of my mind, and then suddenly—time snapped back into place, and everything was a big whoosh!

A hand clamped on Alex’s shoulder and yanked him backward.

I began to pivot around, dropping down like the other girl had, but I wasn’t running for safety. I needed to get my bearings.

Zellman was on top of Alex. I tried to lunge forward, but someone pulled me backwards. Alex’s members came running from across the room. One jumped on top of the pool table.