“But the guys who broke it up, people don’t mess with them when you’re not around?” “So your people, they have respect, too?” I ask. The other was almost given no choice but to defend themselves, but when our guys popped in, they remembered where they are and what would happen if they fucked-up here.”

“One of the two came here looking for the other and dared to start shit. “They’re as dumb as they are smart.” He shrugs, finishing off the last bit of liquor in his cup. “What just happened?” I look up and over my shoulder at Royce. The bottle is set down, all mouths are locked closed, and every single one of them, from the first group to the last, make a straight line back the way we came in. There is no arguing, no shouting, not even an attempt at an explanation. The guys barely push to their full height when another group breaks from the crowd, headed right for them, but before they can step up to the others, a third crew sidles in, each one draped in black from shirt to shoe. I stretch a little taller when not one but two stand at the same time, but it’s the way one grips the neck of a Corona bottle that has my toes curling in my shoes. Tension frames their foreheads and keeps their shoulders tight. I stop searching and do as he says, my awareness heightening the longer I study them. “The guys in the corner, second group,” he begins. I scan the crowd when Royce pushes into my back, speaking near my ear. They’re dancing under the light of the stars in ripped up cut-offs and cute little crop tops, while the people a few spaces away lean against the crates drinking and laughing, having fun in joggers and tank tops.

Break me by meagan brandy