Page 85 of Crew
Jordan began tossing parts of the stick to the ground absentmindedly.
"Okay. So. What all happened exactly?" he asked me.
I relayed everything.
"Fuck." Jordan glowered at the end. "Alex jumped you, but he got his ass kicked, and he pissed off your brother. So what's the payback?"
Cross crossed his arms over his chest. He spoke in a low voice, a hint of warning there. "He's going to get his ass kicked again. I don't care if I have to do it my goddamn self. I am kicking his ass."
"Chill out. You're not doing anything alone. You know we'll have your back," Jordan hissed. "I'm not saying to ignore it, but we do payback on the Ryerson leader, and what then? It's crew war. You guys ready for that?"
Cross was unnaturally still.
That told me plenty.
I craned my neck a little. The painkiller the nurse had given me was starting to kick in. I swear there was a little glow around Zellman where he was perched above everyone else, but I could make out the anger too.
Zellman was usually happy no matter what happened, so I had to do a double take. Nope. It was still there.
Noticing me, some of the anger fled, he said quietly, "He hurt you, Bren. He has to pay for it."
"Some would argue he already has," Jordan mused.
"What the hell?!" Cross growled, jumping away from the vehicle and shoving Jordan. It was fast and forceful. His shove pushed him almost to the ground. Jordan's head whipped back, his face twisting in anger, but Cross didn't care. He stood his ground, his hands in fists. "What? You got a problem with me, because I sure as hell have a problem with you. Say it one more damn time. One more damn time, Jordan."
"Say what?" Jordan's hand thrust through his hair.
"You fucking know."
They were silent.
Cross was waiting for Jordan's answer, and Jordan lowered his head after a second. He submitted, speaking quietly, his hand fisting in his hair. "Look. I'm just saying a crew war could mean more of us like Bren. I don't want that."
"He didn't get hurt by our hands. He hurt one of ours. We have to do the payback. You know that," Cross gritted out.
Jordan's head lowered another fraction of an inch. "Okay. Yeah. I get it."
"We have to, Jordan," I said. They all turned to me. "He's pushed it too much. He has to be hurt back. We can't let it go."
"Okay, but we have to be smart about it." Jordan looked at all of us. "We hit him hard, and just him."
"We can do political shit to lessen any blowback on us, but it will happen," Cross said. "There's no question of that." He looked at Jordan, then Zellman.
"So what about Race?" I asked.
All eyes went back to me.
I added, "I don't know what to say about him. Honestly, I went there for Taz."
"We need to figure out how to deal with him," Jordan agreed. "He's been helping us. If he really doesn't have an agenda with us, then what the fuck, man?"
Zellman snorted. "Everyone has an agenda. If it really was because Drake said to hang with us, and it's not Bren's cooch he wants, we gotta know this guy better."
"Don't talk about my vagina. Ever. And never refer to it as a cooch."
"Huh?" Zellman blinked in confusion, glancing at the guys. "What'd I say wrong?"
Jordan and Cross started laughing.
