With his shaking arms over his head, Evan couldn't hear much save for the bullets hitting the walls and furniture. He could hear raised voices but couldn't make out the words. He could barely breathe, his fear paralyzing him. Loud shots, louder than the ones coming from across the street, made Evan jump. Looking up, he could see Lui holding his gun, taking aim through the broken window and firing back before ducking back under the table. Evan lowered his head, trying to breathe but it was impossible. His hands shook against his head.
"Evan!" Someone suddenly slid on the glass and petals, grabbing his shoulder roughly. Evan looked up, seeing the blue of Jonathan's hoodie. Without thinking, he quickly sat up and threw Jonathan's hand off him.
"Don't touch me!" Evan screamed. Jonathan stared at Evan as he scrambled back on the glass covered floor. He winced as a sharp piece of glass dug into his hand, making him cry out in pain. He fell against the counter, still trying to get away from Jonathan who simply stared. He didn't look confused or shocked and it terrified Evan.
"Evan?" Tyler called out over the gunshots. "Evan!" He scrambled to his feet, keeping low as he ran towards Tyler who was behind the couch. Evan collapsed onto Tyler, hugging him tightly, unable to stop the sobs from raking his bruised chest. Blood from his hand smeared on Tyler's shirt. "Are you hurt?" Evan shook his head, as Tyler gently rubbed his back, turning to glance over the couch. "You're okay. You're okay. Just stay here with me, you'll be okay." Evan turned his head to the counter where Jonathan was crouched on the other side. He knew.
When the shooting finally stopped and the dry wall and feathers from pillows falling through the air landed on the counters, tables and the floor, Evan found himself slowly standing up. The apartment was in ruins. Glass and pieces of drywall littered the floor. The furniture was ripped and riddled with holes. The windows were gone, the wind creeping into the ruins. Rose petals covered the floor like drops of blood. Evan's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Are you okay?" Tyler asked quietly. Evan looked up at him, his left-hand curling around his right. As he shook his head, he pressed his thumb against the top of his bleeding hand. "Take a deep breath. We're all okay. I'll be right back." Tyler promised and hurried over to -the others, checking on them. Evan watched Tyler help Jonathan to his feet, giving him a reassuring smile. Evan's bloody hand curled into a fist. It stung.
"Was your hand cut?" Craig walked up to him, looking shocked but okay. He reached for Evan's right hand, slowly uncurling his fingers. "The glass?" Evan nodded. "It doesn't look too deep. I'll have to clean it first to determine for sure though. It might require stitches." Craig rambled. Evan let him talk, able to think of something else other than Jonathan and his phone.
"Are the others okay?" Evan managed to ask. Smitty was leaning against the wall by one of the blown out windows, unloading his gun. Marcel and the others were sitting on the floor, their heads turning as Tyler walked over to them. Lui was sitting at the chipped dining room table, his head in his hands. Evan turned his head in time to see the office door closing. Craig didn't answer Evan's question. He was gone, looking for his supplies. Evan's bloody hand shook.
Across the room, Smitty looked up from his gun, meeting Evan's wide eyed stare. Evan quickly looked away as there was movement out of the corner of his eye. The office door opened. Jonathan stepped out of the room, his eyes on his phone. Evan watched Jonathan as he stopped, staring intently at something on the screen. Evan knew it what it was; there was a new call on the recents list. Jonathan blinked and looked up at Evan again with a cold, blank expression. Evan didn't look up at him, though he watched him from the corner of his eye. He could hardly breathe. He knew Jonathan knew that Evan was aware of his betrayal, of his knowledge of the code, but he also couldn't hide his fear of Jonathan. Taking a deep breath, Evan forced himself to look at Jonathan full on. He couldn't be afraid, he couldn't let Jonathan think he was afraid though he had a feeling that there was nothing he could do. If he told anyone, would they believe him?
"Hey, are you okay?" Smitty suddenly asked, making Evan jump. He turned his head away from Jonathan, looking at Smitty who now stood beside him, his rifle still in his hand. Evan managed to nod. "Let's go find Craig so he can take care of your hand." Smitty said, wrapping an arm around Evan's shoulders and guided him towards the hall. Evan glanced back over his shoulder at Jonathan who met his gaze with a smile. Fear seized him, forcing him to turn away quickly and move closer to Smitty. He was grateful when Smitty guided him into Craig's room where he sat down on the bed, his left hand pressed against his bloody right hand.
"Can I see?" Craig asked, holding his hand out to Evan who slowly let go of his right hand. He winced when Craig cleaned it with an antiseptic cloth. Smitty sat beside him, his gun leaning against the bed.
"It's really scary the first time you get into a shooting like that." Smitty said after a few minutes of silence. "I completely understand how you feel, Evan. I've been there. I still get scared. Hell...I'm scared right now." He held his left hand out so Evan could see it shake. Smitty curled his hand into a fist, taking a deep breath. "They didn't always shake. I used to have such a steady shot...But then-"
"Smitty. You don't have to." Craig suddenly said. Smitty looked up at him and shrugged.
"It's cool. I had a friend...Fuck, he was my best friend...He kinda shattered my confidence. He broke everything. I hesitate when I never did before. You wouldn't think that but I do. Every time I look through that scope, I hesitate. One of these days, it's gonna get one of us killed, I swear." He paused, taking a deep breath. "His name is John, not our Jonathan, someone else. He's with Brian now, I think. Hell for all I know, he's dead." Smitty took a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair. "It just came out of nowhere you know...But I guess that's how it goes with these things. If you're the one getting stabbed in the back, you never see it coming."
The old sports car cruised down the palm-tree lined street. Smitty tapped his fingers against the ribbed steering wheel in time to the music playing. He had just had the car fixed and painted pure white, a goofy milk cartoon sticker smacked on the back before today's job. Beside him, John stared straight ahead, taking a drag from the vape pen in his hand. He exhaled, a cloud of white vapour escaping his lips and floated out the open window.
"This guy apparently has his own crew but he said he isn't involving them in this directly." John explained, smoke floating around him.
"You trust him on that?" Smitty asked, glancing at John for a moment before looking back at the road.
"Fuck no." John laughed. "I have heard that he's reliable though. He knows what he's doing."
"What's his name again?"
"Pretty sure it's Tyler. Turn here." John said quickly. Smitty turned right onto a quiet suburban street, the small houses lined with chain link fences and dry, dying flower gardens. As they drove past a house that had had better days, John pointed to it with a smile. "That's it. Keep going. We'll circle around. I don't see Tyler around." Smitty turned the corner, driving around the quiet block. As the white car turned the next corner, John urged Smitty to stop and pull over when they saw the black and white Corvette parked at the side of the road. "It's just this one job with this guy and then we'll be back on our own." John said as Smitty turned the key. Smitty met John's gaze and nodded. "I promise." John smiled.
"Sounds good." Smitty smiled despite the odd tone in John's voice and got out of the car. He walked to the back and opened the trunk, pulling out the heavy black duffel bag. John got out of the car, his phone in his hand as he closed the door. Smitty watched him send a text before putting the phone back in his jacket pocket. "Who was that?" Smitty asked.
"No one." John said. "Just a cute girl." He teased. Smitty rolled eyes.
"Can't you save that for later?" Smitty chided. John didn't respond for the driver's door of the Corvette opened, a tall blonde man stepping into the warm Los Angeles sunlight.
"Are you Tyler?" John asked.
"Are you John?" The other man asked.
"Yeah, and this is Smitty." John nodded, crossing his arms.
"Nice to meet you." Tyler said. "About the money-"
"We were all going to go even." John said to remind Tyler of what they must have already talked about.
"I don't want any of it. I just want to make sure it doesn't go where it's supposed to." Tyler explained. Smitty's brow furrowed in confusion. He wished that John had told him more about this job.
"Where is it supposed to go?" Smitty asked. John glanced back at him with a slightly annoyed look.
"A vault." Tyler said. Smitty looked up at Tyler, his confusion still not cleared up. "When people here in the city do a job and can't keep that much money around loosely, they ask these people to keep it in their vault until they launder it or whatever they do with the cash. These guys have made the mistake of keeping the money in this house and unless you take it, it's going to the vault. That's a lot of fucking money and I don't want it in the vault." Tyler explained. John glanced around the street nervously, clearly uncomfortable with Tyler telling Smitty this. Smitty was now more confused by John's nervousness than anything else.
"Why don't you want it to go to the vault?" Smitty asked cautiously.
"That doesn't matter. Can we go?" Tyler asked.
"Yeah." John said, leading the way down the street. Smitty glanced nervously at Tyler as he passed before hurrying to catch up with John.
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Smitty demanded.
"It's not a big deal, Smitty." John sighed.
"Yes it is! It's a big fucking deal! We could piss off some seriously powerful guys!" Smitty cried.
"This isn't fucking GTA, Smitty! Get your fucking shit together." John snarled, turning suddenly to face Smitty who took a step back from his angry friend. "We were going to take this money anyways and Tyler joined us cause it worked with his agenda. Whatever happens, as a result, isn't our problem, it's Tyler's. If he's playing with the 'big boys' then good for him." John turned away, continuing around the corner. Smitty stared after him; John was never like this before a job. Smitty shouldered the duffel bag and followed John as Tyler caught up to him.
"Everything okay?" Tyler asked quietly.
"Yeah." Smitty said a lot harsher than he meant to. Tyler didn't say anything else. Before they reached the chainlink fence of the house, Smitty set his bag down, reaching inside it to pull out his gun, and cocked it before swinging his bag back over his shoulder. He tossed the gun to John and climbed over the fence, dropping into a small, dead garden. There was only a small pink rose plant struggling to survive, it's pink petals wilted. Smitty took the gun back, glancing back at Tyler who climbed it with ease. He couldn't help but notice though that Tyler had difficulty closing his right hand completely into a fist. John and Tyler loaded their handguns as they took position on either side of the front door, letting Smitty go first with his larger gun.
With one hard kick, the flimsy door swung open. The nineteen-year-old dropped the bag as he opened fire on the living room, the men counting the money inside dropping to the floor, desperately reaching for their weapons. Tyler and John followed him inside. Smitty took covered in the hallway, reloading his gun before stepping back into the living room, not hesitating as he pulled the trigger. When the room was clear, they made their way through the rest of the house, finding the rest of the cash and anyone else who was there. Smitty did one last circle through the house before finding John in the living room, his gun held tight in his right hand and a solemn look on his face.
"That's it." John said, kicking at a broken flower vase on the floor. Smitty looked down at the coffee table behind John which was completely covered with wads of hundred dollar bills. Smitty reached for his bag that he had left by the door, walking towards the coffee table. John suddenly stopped him, pushing him back. "That's not your money."
"What do you mean?" Smitty asked, confused. He looked back at Tyler as he walked into the room. John's grip tightened on his gun.
"It's not yours. It's not mine. It's going in the vault." John said sharply. Outside, a white van pulled up out front the house. Tyler's eyes widened.
"John...John don't do this. It's not too late to fix whatever you've done." Tyler said frantically. Smitty's chest tightened, a rock forming in his throat. "Fuck! You don't even know where the vault is! No one does except the people that own it! Not even Brian knows! Why are you doing this?"
"John...What did you do?" Smitty choked out.
"You're going nowhere, Smitty." John spat. "Look at you. Nothing but an emotional fucking kid. With you, I'm not going anywhere in this world. With Brian...I can have everything."
"John…." Tyler sighed with disappointment. "He'll give you nothing."
"How do you know? You've been against Brian ever since you ran away from daddy." John snapped. "How would you know? Brian's done some good for this city. What have you done? Nothing but take. You're a parasite, Tyler. A weed in the rose garden. There is no good or evil, no black or white like you want there to be. Brian has made lives so much better. We're not fighting like dogs on the street anymore. It's about time you open your eyes." He turned away from Tyler to face Smitty. "You can have it too, Smitty. Put your gun down, and come with me. Just the two of us. I promise."
"No…." Smitty shook his head. "No."
"Smitty, don't be dumb."
"I'm not!" Smitty yelled, raising his gun at John who's eyes widened. He took a nervous step back, raising his hands as if to surrender.
"You won't do it. You're hesitating." John smiled. "Because you love me, Smitty. I've always been there for you. You won't kill me."
"Shut up!" Smitty wailed. "I only want to hear one thing. Tell me you didn't do this!" John stayed silent. Smitty's hands started to shake, his grip loosening on his gun. "Tell me!" He screamed.
"Smitty…"
"You just called me an emotional kid and now you want me to join you?" Movement out of the corner of his eye made Smitty turn. Behind Tyler, a man in a black hoodie had stepped inside. Smitty fired a shot in his direction, wood splinters flying off the door as Tyler ducked, turning to look at the man behind him who fell back, stumbling down the front step. Smitty turned back when John suddenly grabbed the gun, pulling it roughly out of Smitty's hands and hit him harshly in the face with his handgun. Pain spread through his face and blood began to drip from his nose. Smitty fell back to the bloody carpet, landing on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He didn't have time to regain it as John kicked him hard in the ribs. He let out a cry of pain, curling into a ball.
"Where are your keys?" John demanded. Smitty's blurry gaze landed on Tyler who had his hands up, the man in the grey hoodie holding a gun to his head. "Where are the fucking keys, Smitty?"
"In the bag." Smitty cried, tears spilling down his face to the carpet. The man in the grey hoodie motioned to someone outside and two others with duffel bags entered the house, quickly getting to work filling the bags with the cash. John stepped over Smitty, keeping the gun pointed at him. Desperately, Smitty reached for John's leg, wrapping his arms around his ankle, nearly tripping him. "No! John please! Don't do this!" Smitty cried as John kicked him in an attempt to make him let go. "Please! You made a promise!"
"Let him go." Tyler said, startling Smitty who looked up at him, tears and blood smeared across his face. "Let him go, Smitty." Smitty shook his head, holding on tighter to John's ankle. He finally kicked hard enough to force Smitty to let go, his face bruised and bloody. Smitty laid there while they gathered up the money, and without a word, left. John left Smitty on the bloody carpet without even saying goodbye. Brian had made John hate him and it broke his heart. "I'm sorry." Tyler finally said. Smitty shook his head.
"It's not your fault."
"He got the money...But I don't think he'll find out where that vault is… If that makes you feel any better." Tyler said quietly, sitting down on the floor beside him.
"It doesn't." Smitty's hands were still shaking.
Smitty stopped, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the tears. His story had distracted Evan from the pain of Craig cleaning the cut on his hand and stitching it. Evan stared at Smitty, imagining himself there to comfort Smitty, to tell him that he understood. He imagined himself laying on that bloody carpet, and Jonathan standing over him before turning away, walking out of his life. "It's a shitty story, I know." Smitty said, his eyes still filled with tears. "I know that if I ever see John again… I won't know what to do. I won't know if I should pull the trigger or not. I had heard that when Adam died, he took down someone with him...I don't know if that was John and frankly, I don't want to know. It's better not to know. He manipulated me, tried to make me think something because I cared about him. I still do, but I can't accept what he did. It took a while, but I joined Tyler and the guys, and every day it's slowly been getting better."
Evan turned to look up at Craig then down at his hand, the palm held together with black stitches. Craig let go of Evan's hand so he could turn to Smitty and pull him into a warm hug. He leaned his head against Smitty's shoulder, feeling comfort in that he was only a few years older than him and had endured something similar. If Smitty could survive, Evan could survive.
Evan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, roses on the counter beside him. He stared at his reflection, watching his dark eyes blink. There were dark, tired circles under his eyes. Lowering his gaze from the mirror, Evan looked down at his gauze wrapped right-hand. He wondered if this was what Tyler's hand looked like after Brian took a hammer to it. He pressed his thumb to the top his head, his other fingers against his cut palm. It stung. Blood turned the gauze red. He stopped after a couple of seconds, turning his right hand over to look at the few spots of blood along his palm.
"Evan!" Craig called out. "We're leaving now." Snapped out of his thoughts, Evan painfully curled his hand into a fist, not wanting Craig to see the new blood on his hand. He turned off the light, grabbing the plastic bag with his few belongings inside and hurried down the hall to where the others were gathered with large backpacks and duffel bags. They had waited a few hours before quickly packing up their things, preparing to head to their other hideout. In the commotion, Evan had slipped back into the office and taken the silly little green and purple coloured knife off the wall. If he couldn't fire a gun, maybe he'd have the courage to use the knife if he had to.
Standing close to Craig and Tyler, Evan knew Jonathan was watching him. He didn't stop watching him as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage and walked to the cars. Evan only got relief from the constant staring when he got into Tyler's Corvette, his gauzed covered hand reaching into his pocket to run his fingers over the handle of the small blade.
"It'll all be okay." Tyler said as he drove the Corvette out of the garage. Evan looked up at him, wondering who he was saying that to; Tyler looked just as shaken up as he did if not more so. "I'm just...I don't want to scare you...but someone had to have told Brian where we were...No one except us knew we were there."
"I didn't tell anyone." Evan said, looking up at Tyler who gave him a smile.
"I know you didn't." Tyler said, keeping his eyes on the road. "I trust you."
"I trust you too."
The new apartment that Evan stood in the middle of while the others settled in, was smaller. There was, however, a vase of roses on the kitchen table. He sat down on the couch, reaching inside his jacket to the blade as Jonathan entered the living room.
"Can I talk with everyone?" Jonathan asked loudly, Evan's chest tightening. Tyler and the others gathered around him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Jonathan took a deep breath, looking scared. "Someone has been using my phone. It's not just to play games or whatever, someone has used it to contact Brian."
"What?" Tyler cried, anger filling his voice. The others raised their voices in anger and fear, looking at those around them with fearful glances. Jonathan wanted them to fear each other. Tears welled up in Evan's eyes.
"I had lost my phone this morning before the shooting and when I found it, there was a call to Brian just before the shooting happened." Jonathan explained. Evan's hands curled tightly into fists despite the pain. He parted his lips to call Jonathan out on his lies but found he could say nothing. Jonathan met Evan's desperate, hurt gaze; Evan could have sworn he smiled at him. He was playing with him. Tyler got to his feet, furious. He hit a lamp off the side table, glass shattering across the floor. Everyone jumped. "I can't find out who it was with just my phone...But I promise you, Tyler. I'll find who did it." Jonathan said. Every word sounded evil to Evan.
Again, Evan took a breath to say something but again he stopped, biting his lip. He was exactly where Jonathan wanted him. He could say nothing for no one would believe him.
"Thank you, Jonathan.' Tyler sighed. "I trust you."