Brawler hauls himself onto the stool at the kitchen island. He’s moving slower than normal, so I can tell he’s sore. “That means the police can track Johnny, but we can’t.”
“K has an in with someone on the police force,” I say, thinking back to the cop who patted Magnum on the back when we exited out the back staircase. Maybe he’s their dirty cop? They seemed too chummy for being on the opposite ends of the good guy-bad guy spectrum.
Oscar starts rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. He pulls out several bags of chips and places them on the island before leaning against it to catch his breath. I start to go to him, but he waves my worry away. “K has an in. We have nothing.”
“Well, K’s going to want to save Johnny.”
“If he even knows he’s missing,” Brawler points out. “That asshole took off with one of his security guys before we got caught in the room and separated. He knew Johnny was shot, but just fucking left. He probably has no idea what happened after that.”
Oscar raises his brows into his hairline as he opens one of the bags. “Really? What the fuck? I didn’t think he’d do that to Johnny.”
“He did,” I say, reliving that moment in my head, still praying Johnny was awake enough to see it for himself. His father fucking left him there, injured. “He’s a fucking asshole, but he might be a useful fucking asshole in this one instance.”
“What happened to you, anyway?” Brawler asks, spinning the chips Oscar opened so he can take a handful for himself.
Oscar’s fists clench. “The crowd fucking panicked. I got swept away with them toward the exit. I tried to turn to get back to you guys, but it was fucking impossible. I would’ve been trampled. Then, as soon as I got outside, two guys jumped me and hauled me away.”
I move closer and reach across the island to slide my hand over his tense knuckles. “They were probably the same ones who came in shooting, recognized you, and…” I trail off because I’m pretty sure they’re intention was to kill him, but I can’t let myself think that. “Did they say anything?”
He shakes his head. “Not a damn thing. Just kicked the shit out of me.”
After a while, Oscar asks exactly what happened while we were inside, and I give him the play-by-play, starting with Magnum pulling me to my feet while Brawler and Jiko were still fighting and ending with us moving down the back stairwell. I don’t tell them the exchange I witnessed in the hallway between Magnum and the cop. I still don’t know what to think of it, or even whether it’s important at all. For all I know, they could’ve gone to school together. And honestly, none of that matters right now anyway because the only thing that does is getting Johnny back. If he’s the dirty cop, I’ll ask him to trace Johnny’s phone myself.
“Any thoughts on who took Johnny?” Brawler asks, shrugging. “We don’t have access to phone tracers or anything else right now, so we have to go on what we know.”
I take some chips and place them in a pile next to Brawler and then pull myself up onto the barstool. “The problem is we don’t know all that much. Johnny was investigating who killed Farmingham and the other guy, but if they found more evidence, he didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“That’s because you were getting ready for the fight,” Oscar says. “My vote’s on Gregory. He killed Farmingham and Turner. We know he did because he left the dumbass candy as his calling card. He wanted K to know it was him.”
“Sounds risky,” I say. “Taking K’s son?”
“Exactly,” Oscar agrees. “Which means he thinks too much of himself. Or,” he pauses. “He actually has good reason to think too much of himself. Maybe he’s got a bigger group than we know about.”
“Do we really think he’s responsible for bombing the tower though? He didn’t leave candy there if he did. I know Johnny inspected the bomb...” I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what he found out. Fuck.”
“It’s not your fault,” Brawler says. “Johnny didn’t tell you anything because he wanted you to focus on the fight. We can only work on one problem at a time.”
“Except the problems are coming from all directions.” I shove a chip into my mouth and chew slowly.
“There’s that other guy who showed up, too,” Brawler says. “Mag’s cousin. He didn’t seem like he was a part of Gregory’s guys, but we were leaning toward the idea he had an affiliation with another group since he was excommunicated.”
“Right. Mag was thinking he was part of a group called the Dragons. We don’t know anything about them though.” I peek up at Oscar hoping he’s going to prove me wrong, but he just shrugs in answer, so I’m guessing we really don’t know anything about this group called the Dragons either. And we especially don’t know if they have anything to do with Johnny. “If I had to guess, I’m thinking Gregory took Johnny. Seems like a ballsy move. Even worse than killing the lower-level guys.” It pains me to say that because a life is a life, but in the Crew scheme of things, Johnny has a lot more power. A lot more sway. K was pissed that Gregory killed the two low-level guys, but when he finds out Johnny is gone, he’s going to be furious.
“So, how do we find Gregory?” Brawler asks.
“He’s always found us before.” He tried to take me right before my first attempt at fighting in The Ring. Now this. “I wish we could identify the shooters at The Ring. Then we would know for sure.”
“Either way,” Oscar says. “If Gregory doesn’t have him, he might know who does. You ever heard of ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’? If he doesn’t have Johnny, he knows who does. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Crew had more than one group trying to take them down. Let’s not forget K killed Roza Fonz a couple of months ago. Gangs don’t take the killing of other leaders lightly.”
I breathe out. We really need Magnum here to have this talk, which is why I’m so pissed he left without saying where he was going and without having a way to get in contact with him. He knows the major players better than we do. We’re just talking into the air, not sure anything will stick.
Stepping down from the stool, I head toward the refrigerator. The chips taste good, but they’re not dampening the hunger starting to squeeze my stomach. I find a few single-serve frozen pizzas in the freezer and throw them in the microwave. After we’ve chowed down on that, we take the chips and some bottles of water, and move toward the living room. I start the fireplace like I learned the last time we were here, so we can have a nice, cozy fire after this shitty day.
The flames reflect on Brawler’s face and torso. “I hope Magnum gets back soon. I need to make sure my mom is okay...” He licks his lips. “And you guys realize it’s almost Christmas, right?”
My eyes widen. Shit. I hadn’t even realized. Back home, my aunt and uncle’s neighbors would’ve started decorating before Thanksgiving. Well, damn. That means I spent Thanksgiving at Greenlawn Reformatory and didn’t even know it. There’s nothing in the Heights that says we’re in the happiest time of the year. No decorations. No volunteers ringing bells asking for donations. Nothing. “I take it the Heights doesn’t celebrate.”