A Dreccian Sport
A large fight broke out off campus after school, across the street in the parking structure. Brandon Lopezsmith was watching on the sidewalk, just outside the structure. There were about 20 Dreccs all dressed in Doc Martens, blue jeans, tank tops, grey suspenders, black crew jackets, and folded grey bandannas hanging out their left pockets, lynching a group of 10 kids.
After a few moments of yelling, fists flying, one of the kids getting lynched by the Dreccs screamed uncle. “Alright! Compliance! Compliance!” was all Brandon heard, and the Dreccs broke apart and ran out of the structure in different directions, leaving 10 kids with bruised faces and bloody noses. The crowed of kids watching began leaving the scene and walking home.
Brandon took out his vape, took a hit of his THC juice, and started to walk home up Lemon street towards the hill overlooking his new high school’s football field. He was a sophomore, a good looking guy, toned body, pretty tall, 5 feet 11 inches, he had short black hair, brown eyes, long pretty eyelashes, and a dimple on his right cheek when he smiled.
His school, Keystone High, was across the street from Keystone Community College, located just a mile from Downtown Keystone, which was more of an old town, than a downtown.
Brandon jay walked across the street to walk on the college side. He had seen in the distance on that side, a girl, one of the Dreccs, he assumed, since she was dressed like one of them. She was smoking an analogue cigarette, leaning up against a short wall three feet high which ran along a parking lot half full of cars. Brandon had noticed she was watching him from afar. As he got closer to the ‘Dreccette’ she gave him a smile, with her head titled. She looked Asian, but Brandon wasn’t sure, she might be mixed.
He smiled, “I didn’t think anybody smoked analogue cigs anymore in 2095,” he said to the Dreccette. She had a grey bandanna hanging out of her left pocket, and grey shoe laces, around her neck, Brandon noticed a sliver inverted Septagram.
“Analogue cigs are like cigars: they’re classy. Vape is so Mundane,” she said, offering him an analogue cigarette from a pack of Camels. She watched him carefully.
Brandon looked at his vape-pen, and took a hit with a smirk, looking at her defiantly, then blew a cloud of smoke out the side of his mouth into the air, “THC juice,” he offers the girl his vape, “you’re entitled to your opinions, ma’am, but I’ll stick with my vape.”
She took it and took a drag and smirked.
“THC huh. I like you. Confident, secure and sure of yourself. Like a man ought to be. Girl’s have this way of poking and testing men. I would have lost any respect for you if you had put away your vape-pen and took a cigarette. You would have made yourself look like a pussy, unable to stand your own ground, no values and views of your own,” she pulled out a cigarette and handed it to him, and put the pack into her pocket.
This girl wasn’t a regular girl of common mind. She was intelligent, as far as Brandon could decipher, she had studious eyes that watched his every move, gesture, and body language, you can tell she was thinking when she wasn’t talking, and she was already testing him with subtle psychological tricks and mind games.
“Oh I know. Trust me. I got a mother, aunts, older sisters, female teachers, and a few ex-girlfriends. My daddy didn’t raise me a sissy with an idealistic view of women… ma’am. This is one of those occasions where the old saying ‘you are what you eat’, is non-applicable,” he winked at her and took the cigarette, showing her that he was open to compromise with a girl, for the right end results.
The girl giggled out loud at his witty sense of humor, bit her nail, her face was flushed, and lips slightly opened, exposing her titillation. She used her fingers to draw back her hair behind her left ear and shoulder, exposing her neck, and lit his cigarette for him.
He held the analogue between his fingers and looked at it, “Camels… aren’t these $27 a pack these days? I’m Brandon by the way,” he extended his hand.
She looked into his eyes, shook his hand firmly, smile, “I’m Chloe,” she rolled her eyes, “yeah, $27.99 to be exact. The government is hella relentless. They’ve been taxing the tobacco industry like for a whole century now! So you’re the new guy.”
Brandon began walking. Chloe stopped leaning on short brick wall, and started to walk up Lemon street with him.
“Yes ma’am, first day. You guys get down don’t you? What was that all about back there?”
“They’re a local tagger crew, DFA, Down For Art. We battled with them a month ago. The agreement was that the losing crew dissolves and stops tagging. They lost and didn’t comply with the agreement. So the boys regulated.”
“Huh. So what’s your Drecc crew called?”
“MTDX, Mid-Town Dreccs. It’s not called a crew. It’s called a ‘Sexion’. Dreccs anywhere and everywhere are one Sinister Family. The Family is divvied up into sections. Each sexion is autonomous and does their own thing. So not all sexions tag-bang like us. Anyways, where are you from? I hear an accent?”
“You’d laugh if I told you,” Brandon said.
“No I won’t. That’s a Southern accent. Where?”
“Really? I love chili!”
Brandon let out a laugh, “That’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of Texas?”
“Yeah. That and cowboys and country music. I like country music… and cowboys,” she said, looking at him.
“Really? Cowboys huh? That was unexpected. Why cowboys?”
“Well, cuz I’m Drecc. I’m a Traditonalist. I think it’s a beautiful thing when a person has deep roots and is connected with their own ancestral Folk Culture. In that way, I think cowboys are kind of sexy. It’s really Mundane for a White American guy to be cultureless, cuz you’re just a drone of the State, a faceless drone without a spirit, a volksgeist, and that’s Common. Don’t you think? Have you ever read the antique writings of David Myatt?”
“I actually have ma’am. I was reading up on a few things about Dreccs and the Order of Nine Angles. Found Myatt’s writings archived in a website.”
“Oh really? Are you Drecc? See, that’s what I’m talking about: cowboys are very well mannered and properly raised. It’s very attractive, sets you apart from those other guys.”
“Thanks,” he blushed, “I’m not sure if I am Drecc. I’ve initiated myself into the first grade of the Seven Fold Way. How do you properly become a Dreccian? Please pardon my ignorance.”
“There’s really nothing to it. It’s just a simple Code of Honour you agree to live by. That’s it. Nothing to believe it, nothing religioso. You don’t have to be a member of a Drecc organization, tribe, gang, or sexion. But if you do, we’re always looking for a new brother.”
He took a drag of his cigarette, “I’m interested. What do I have to do to get into MTDX?”
She smiled, “I’ll take care of that cowboy. So you listen to country music?”
“Yes ma’am. I play the guitar.”
“Oh really! I love the sound of the acoustic guitar. I’m trying to teach myself. I haven’t gotten far,” she said.
“I can teach you,” he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah? I’d like that,” she looked at him for a while, turned around and walked again.
“You live up the hill too?” he said.
“Yeah. On Bright street. You?”
“Washington street. We’re two blocks apart.”
“Cool. I can skateboard to your place,” Chloe gestured her head to the right, “this is my street. I’ll see you tomorrow at school yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m glad we met Chloe,” he grabbed her waist, pulled her into him, and gave her a hug.
She smiled, contentfully. He was a well bred guy, confident, and took what he wanted without asking. She found that really sexy, it seemed.
“Likewise Brandon,” she hugged him back, let go of him, and started walking up her street, “oh, give me your number real quick.”
Brandon pulled his shirt sleeve up, exposing his Holocom – Holographic Communicator: a smartwatch/phone with holographic touch screen capability – and bumped it to Chloe’s Holocom.
“So, I’ll text you before lunch and introduce you to everyone. Just hang out with everyone for a while, so they can get to know you. Then later we can ‘test you into’ the sexion,” she said.
“Gotcha. Thanks for the analogue.”
“No problemo,” Chloe turned around and walked up her street.
Brandon walked the rest of the way home with a grin on his face. Thinking about Chloe. She was pretty, long curly hair past her shoulders, spoke with a friendly voice, native Southern California accent.
Keystone High School was an old beautiful school that has been around for centuries. A tall red brick wall surrounded most of the school, which was covered in ivy. On the floor of the hallways of the school are plaques of the year of each graduating class which stretched back into 1920, back when the school was established, it was surrounded by fields of orange trees, like the rest of Orange County.
The school had a now ancient tradition of placing a large time capsule beneath each plaque filled with secret items of the graduating class’s top students, the prom king and queen, top performers of each of the school’s sports team, and so on.
At the center of the campus, next to the large gym and swimming pool, was Big Oak, a large majestic oak tree, surrounded by a ring of stones three feet high, planted on the spot at the founding of the school. Underneath Big Oak were also time capsules.
At the front right corner of the school, nearest the community college and facing the parking structure, was the oldest part of the school, the Keystone Auditorium. It was a large old white building, in the very old days it was once an opulent Masonic Lodge, built way back in 1889. The lodge owned the property the school sat on, which was donated to the newly established city of Keystone to build a high school. Back in those early days, the Keystone Auditorium was the largest building in the city. It wasn’t until the 1970’s that the auditorium was donated to the high school. The arched entrance of the auditorium was flanked by two large pillars, and on the keystone of the arch was an old Masonic square and compass.
Brandon walked down the hallway of the science building, where Chloe had her third period, to find her, he and Chloe had third period class in the same building. He saw her standing by her locker, talking to another girl, a Dreccette, they were so close to each other, their bodies were touching. She looked towards Brandon, saw him, waved, smiled, then whispered something into the other girl’s ear, and they both looked at Brandon quickly, looked back at each other and giggled, and more whispering commenced.
The two girls were in their pajamas, and Docs.
“Hey Brandon, this is Vanessa, my best friend,” Chloe said, “Nessa, this is the new guy Brandon, he’s Drecc.”
Vanessa and Brandon shook hands.
“I’m Brandon, pleasure to meet you ma’am,” he said.
“Vanessa. Nice to meet you. So you’re from Texas?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brandon lightly blushed, “Houston Texas.”
“Oh for reals. What’s it like over there?”
“Big… everything’s big,” he said.
Chloe’s eyes ran up and down Brandon’s big biceps, her tongue was pressed up against her top left K9, lips slightly parted, “Everything’s big…” she said to Vanessa, nudging her with her hips.
Vanessa was beautiful, she had long auburn straight hair, brown eyes, long pretty eye lashes, full lips, and a light complexion.
“Come on, we all hang out at Big Oak,” she said to Brandon. They started walking out the building.
“So are there a lot of Dreccs out in Houston?” Vanessa said.
“There are a handful out in the suburbs. I’ve met a few online. They aren’t organized as you guys are down here. In the city itself, not many, Mundane gang infested. Houston is really ghetto these days. So what’s up with the pajamas? I saw some guy in his PJs as well.”
“Oh, cool people stuff,” Vanessa said, “every Fridays are pajama days. Thursdays are GQ days.”
“Ah… I see.” Brandon looked at his outfit.
As they walk towards Big Oak, the two girls were greeted and accosted by other students left and right. Vanessa seemed to be the more outspoken and talkative one. Chloe was more reserved and soft spoken, but the more affectionate touchie-feelie one who gave out the most hugs and skin contact. She was also diplomatic, introducing Brandon to everybody who stopped by and went up to them.
Everybody eyeballed Brandon as he and his two escorts led him to Big Oak. Only three social groups hung out around Big Oak: the Dreccs, Ravers, and Jocks, which social groups consisted of the most popular kids on campus. Everyone around Big Oak was in their pajamas. Brandon suddenly felt out of place and over dressed. Holographic screens were floating around everybody’s wrists.
“This is Brandon everybody. He’s from Texas,” Chloe said.
“Texas right here!” one of the jocks said, “what part?”
“That’s right!” the jock said, “you play football?”
“Of course. Halfback, sometimes offensive line.”
“That’s right!” the jocks said.
“The team here got an opening?”
“Yeah, we do in fact,” one of the big jocks got up to shake Brandon’s hand, “I’m Jesse, quarterback. How do you know these two girls?”
Brandon shook Jesse’s hand, “What, you can’t tell I’m a stud?”
Jesse laughed, “I’ll talk to the Coach and get you in.”
“Great. Thanks,” Brandon said.
Brandon mingled on his own very well. He had well developed social skills. He excused himself from Chloe and Vanessa for a moment to meet the rest of the football team.
Chloe sat next to Raul, the de facto leader of the group of Dreccs.
“He’s cool. He’s already initiated himself into the Seven Fold Way. He’s been reading up on David Myatt. He wants in,” Chloe said.
Raul was watching Brandon mingling with the jocks, “He’d help us make a stronger connection with the jocks. Talk him into actually joining the football team. We’re gunna have to test him in.”
“Kay. He knows about getting tested in. He’s not a pussy.”
“Alright. We’ll put him on the three month probation and then test him.”
“Kay,” Chloe said to Raul, she got up and looked over to Brandon who was making his way back to her, “Brandon, come here.”
Brandon walked to the Drecc part of Big Oak. The Dreccs were racially mixed, Whites, Mexicans, and Asians. Raul was Hispanic, a Mexican of Spanish descent, he had a shaved head, like most of the male Dreccs.
“This is Raul,” Chloe said, “Raul, this is Brandon.”
“What’s up man,” Raul said, shaking Brandon’s hand, “have a seat with us brother.”
She was in his room, with a guitar across her chest, her fingers on the strings, contorted as they tried to finger the chords, she was seated up against Brandon, who was behind her, his hand helping her fingers find their proper positions. She had cleared her left shoulder of hair, for Brandon, who was half instructing Chloe and half smelling her neck.
“That hardest part is transitioning between chords. My fingers don’t do it fast enough. It’s hard,” she said. She was getting chills up and down her spine with him so close to her neck.
“You’ll get it. It just takes practice. Daily practice.”
He put his fingers on the strings, and wrapped his other arm around her to pluck the guitar, and sang a country song softly. He had a deep yet melodious singing voice, which didn’t crack. Her heart was skipping beats.
“You sing very nice. Do you sing often?”
“In the shower. I actually love to sing. My dad used to sing. He wanted to be a music star.”
“Used to?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said softy into her ear, “he passed away. Car accident.”
“Thanks. It was devastating for me and my mama. Emotionally and financially. We were struggling for a while. Until my mama got remarried to that guy from here.”
His lips were lightly, very lightly running down her neck when he was talking, and his left hand started to make its way inside her tank top.
“That guy… your stepfather?”
“Yeah. I don’t like him. We don’t get along.”
“Why not,” she asked, as she let the guitar slide to the floor, letting his hands go wherever.
“I’d rather not talk about right this moment. It’ll just get me angry.”
He was kissing her neck.
“Brandon…” she pulled his hand off her breast, but kissed his cheek. He just chuckled.
“Brandon!” his mother yelled from the other side of the door, Chloe gasped. “I made some sandwiches for y’all! It’s awful quiet in there.”
“Coming! I’m juss tryna get her pregnant mama, that’s all!”
“No you ain’t! Y’all can practice the guitar out in the living room.”
Chloe got up, hit him with the back of her hand, fixed her hair and tank top, and opened the door. She was flushed with embarrassment. Brandon’s mother gave him that look a mother gives to a mischievous son out in the hall way, with her arms on her hips.
“It’s not you honey,” she said to Chloe, “I just don’t trust him. I ain’t fixing to be no granny just yet.”
“He wasn’t doing anything Mrs. Lopezsmith.”
“Diane. Call me Diane honey. Mrs. Lopezsmith makes me sound too old and weird.”
“Thank you, Diane,” Chloe said, smiling.
“You’re too young and beautiful mama to be a granny,” he gave his mother a kiss.
She smiled. She was beautiful. A blond lady, with a thick Texan accent, petite body, 5 feet 6 inches tall, and big soft bosoms that jiggled when she walked. She kissed his forehead, “that’s my baby,” she said to Chloe.
The two of them were eating their ham and cheese sandwiches and chips in the living room, thinking about Brandon’s test.
“You ready for next week?”
“Yes ma’am. Get it over with.”
She popped a potato chip in her mouth, then used her Holocom to text Brandon: Tomorrow we ditch school, and go scope out the shop in Chinatown, so you guys can see it from the outside. Me and Vanessa will go in and video cam it with a hidden camera for you guys.
He read the text, and he nodded.
Chloe looked around, and whispered, “They don’t have a real alarm. My stepdad installed their security cameras. He said they were too stingy to install a real alarm. They just have the sign stickered to their shop window. They’re Chinese. They don’t trust banks. So they have like $20,000 stashed in the back, in dirty cardboard boxes. My stepdad saw the money. At night they keep the gold in the back, in the office room, behind a flimsy locked door.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Where are the boxes?” he whispered.
“In the locked office room. They’re just normal cardboard boxes.”
The next day, Chloe, Vanessa, Raul, Brandon, Mark, James, and Danny ditched school all day and headed for Chinatown in Raul’s car.
There were a row of jewelry shops near the indoor swap meet there. The Dreccs were interested in one particular one called Seng Heng Jewelry, which was located on the corner of a small street. The window of Seng Heng Jewelry faced the sidewalk and street.
The seven Dreccs parked their car in the parking structure below the row of gold jewelry shops. Chinese people, as well as most Asians prefer 24 carat gold, which is as pure as you can get it. The seven Dreccs walked a few times past the shop, studying it and the streets.
The shop had metal gates bolted on its glass door. To enter, a worker had to push a button to open the gate. The windows of the shop were also reinforced with metal bars, cheap ones.
The two girls walked off to the shop to enter it with their hidden cameras. Raul gestured with his head for the group to cross the street where they could talk. They took out their vape-pens and started to smoke.
“We hot wire an old car. I can do that,” Raul said, “drive the car right into the shop. Right through the fucking glass and metal and shit. That shit looks fucking cheap.”
The others nodded in agreement, about the cheap quality of the metal work.
“Once we’re in we bust into the locked room in the back. Stuff the gold and money into bags and shit. We each carry a bag. We take the video recording console in the backroom also. Then jam,” Raul continued. The others nodded.
“We need to figure out what streets to take to quickly get to the freeway from here. Memorize the streets good, how many cars are we taking off in?” Danny said.
Raul thought about it for a few seconds, “There’s five of us guys. I say in three separate cars. No point in being stupid and putting our eggs in one basket right? Chloe drives one car, Vanessa drives another… James, you drive good, drive your car. Each car is parked in a different place near the shop. Once he get the shit, we walk out calmly and run to our cars. Danny and Mark ride in the same get away car.”
When the girls came out, the seven Dreccs drove around the area, up and down streets to figure out their escape routes. Then they went home to watch the video. The jewelry shop had a lot of gold. In the back corner of the front of the shop was a single door which led into a back part of the shop, the goldsmith’s work desk can clearly be seen in the video along with the goldsmith, who was the owner. His wife and children worked the front end. It was in that back part that the office room was located, next to the restroom.
“So, individually, each of you guys have to dress real nice, in suits maybe, and have a look inside, buy something cheap, and then ask to use the restroom. They’ll let you use it if you buy something. You have to do this so you can see the office room yourself and be in the back physically. That way, you are familiar with the layout,” Chloe said, “But one at a time. One per day. Never together.”
“What’s the cheapest thing they got?” Mark asked.
“Like the earrings. Some are like $75, the ones without the gem stones,” Chloe said.
“I’ll go first then tomorrow by myself,” Raul said, “Brandon, you got after me. Then Mark, then Danny.”
Raul, Brandon, Mark, and Danny took turns using the shop’s restroom that week. Brandon had gone to Seng Heng shop with an Asian Dreccette, a close friends of Chloe’s, named Patricia. They posed as boyfriend and girlfriend. He eventually bought Patricia a pair of gold earrings, and asked to use the restroom.
The back part of the shop was small, and dirty. The white office door came before the restroom, it was old, flimsy, and dirty. He touches the door of the office. It felt cheap. The knobs wiggled. He went into the restroom and pretty much knew that all it would take to take that door down was a kick.
The following week, Raul had hot wired an old junky car he found in West Covina, a run down city that looked like the third world populated with poor Mexicans. Nobody would even miss the piece of shit car. What Raul was worried about was if the car would even take them to Chinatown 20 minutes away.
Brandon, Danny and Mark got into the shitty car, and they headed for the 10 freeway. Behind them was Chloe in her car, Vanessa in hers, and James in his. The three drivers would head out to their designated pick up parking spot and wait with their engines on, light off, doors unlocked, and leaned back so they can’t be seen. The seven of them used an encrypted app to stayed in contact with each other in a private voice chat room via their Holocoms.
Raul drove the car around the area a couple times to make sure there were no cops near by. The block was empty that night, it was 1 AM, no random cars either. Raul drove the car up to the sidewalk and drove the front wheels onto the curb carefully, and then he stepped down on the gas pedal all the way to the floor aiming the front of the car at the front of the store. The boys braced themselves. The impact made relatively little noise, a crash, the tempered glass shattered and fell apart, the metal gate on the door flew of its bolts and hit the floor. Raul backed up, and then stepped on the gas again hitting a different part of the front of the store, to make the hole bigger. The rest of the metal flew to the ground.
The car was backed up, there was a large gaping hole in the front of the store, “Come on!” Raul said running out of the car with his ski mask on and a large laundry bag. The other three boys ran out, and into the gaping hole. They each had a flashlight.
“I got the door,” Brandon said.
Brandon hopped over the displays, ran to the door leading to the back part of the store, and used his football skills to ram the door down with his shoulders. It flew opened without much resistance.
“That was too easy!” Brandon said.
He ran for the office door, like a bull, bam! The door flew opened.
“I’ll hold my flashlight. Fill her up!”
“Fuck yeah!” Raul said, as he knelt to grab the gold. The jewelry were still sitting in their displays, stacked one on top the other.
“We’re going for the money boxes!” Mark and Danny grabbed the cardboard box, and opened it into their bags.
“Fucken ay! Look at this shit!” Danny said.
Raul stopped what he was doing and looked in the box. It was cash, bundles rubber-banded together.
“Fuck dude–” Raul said.
“Just put the whole box in your bags.” Brandon said to Mark and Danny.
“Yeah right,” Mark and Danny put the cardboard boxes, which weren’t big, into their laundry bags.
“We’re done man. We’re loaded!” Mark said.
“Take off! Don’t wait for us. Go!” Raul said.
“Alright. We’re off then. Come on Danny,” Mark and Danny ran out the office with their bags.
Brandon got on his knees in front of another stack of jewelry displays, “Just put the whole thing in,” he said laughing at Raul, who was actually grabbing the jewelry off the displays.
Raul laughed at himself, “They’re not all going to fit though. There’s too many of them. You put the displays in your bag. I need room for that video console.”
“Rip out the console for me real quick.”
Brandon got up, unplugged the video console, and placed it into Raul’s bag. Then he put in a few more displays into his bag.
“We’re on the freeway,” Mark said via the Holocom video chat.
“Cool. We’re almost done here,” Raul said, “did you guys see any cops around.”
“Nah,” James responded, “It’s dead on the streets.”
“Cool. We’ll see you guys then.”
“Mark, Danny, and James out,” Mark said.
“I’m full,” Brandon said. He tied up the opening of his bag, and went to help Raul grab the gold off the displays.
“There’s fucking too many. Let’s go. We got enough,” he looked at Brandon.
“Yeah,” Brandon tapped on Raul’s shoulder and got up, “come on.”
The two boys ran out the office and made their way out the gaping hole with their stuffed bags.
They stood outside on the sidewalk, looking left and right, the coast was clear, no cars, they looked at each other, gave each other fist bumps, Raul swung his bag over his left shoulder, “Let’s go.”
Brandon walked casually around the corner to his get away car, “Chloe, pop the trunk,” he said via his Holocom.
“Kay. It’s opened.”
He threw his bag into the trunk, closed it, and walked to the passenger door, then got inside casually, and then took off his ski mask. Chloe took off towards Broadway to get on the freeway.
“Raul, you in our car?” Brandon said into his Holocom.
“Yeah, we’re taking our route. You in your car?”
“Yes sir. We’re approaching Broadway as we speak. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Brandon and Chloe out.”
“Good job Brandon. Raul and Vanessa out.”
Chloe looked over at Brandon with a grin, “You did it! My hearts thudding so bad right now.”
“Relax,” he said to her, “it’s over. I got you something.”
Brandon opened his fist, and showed Chloe a gold necklace with a jade Kwan Yin pendant. He turned on the interior car light so she could see.
“Aw, it’s beautiful. It’s dark green too. It’s a lot of good luck when it’s dark green like that, and it’s more expensive. Thank you.”
Brandon leaned into her, and put the necklace on her, and then kissed her.
Chloe and Brandon made it onto the 10 freeway ramp without any problems and they drove back to Orange County, to Brandon’s house.
She parked her car, near Brandon’s house and looked at him, then took her silver Septagram necklace off and put it on Brandon, and kissed him. They made out in the car for a while. She climbed into the passengers and straddled Brandon.
“Come on,” Brandon opened the door and carried Chloe to his house, he opened the side gate quietly and carried her to his bedroom window, and opened the window. “Climb in carefully,” he whispered.
She looked at him, “But your mom?”
“She doesn’t check on me at night. She worked early in the morning, takes off at 6. Get in.”
He lifted her, and she climbed into his room. Then he tossed her onto his bed and pulled her clothes off.
After school the next day, the seven Dreccs were inside Raul’s room with their loaded bags, divvying up the money and gold among themselves. They made an eighth pile of gold to give to the rest of the Sexion who didn’t participate in the venture.
The crowd was cheering and screaming. It was Keystone High against Anaheim High, on Anaheim’s turf. During the game Brandon made two touchdowns, which helped Keystone High win the game that evening.
The coach gave him a hug, “Good job tonight Brandon!”
“Thanks Coach,” he replied, “I’m gunna hit the showers. I’m getting a ride with my girlfriend Coach.”
“Alright. Don’t stay out to late,” the Coach gave him a grin and patted him on the back.
“Where you going Bran?” Jesse said.
“Showers. Come on. I’m taking Chloe out tonight.”
“Yeah. Might as well. I got a date with Vanessa.”
The two boys made their way to Anaheim’s locker room.
“Vanessa? Chloe’s friend Vanessa?” Brandon said with a grin.
“Yup. Dude, she’s hot. Have you seen her tits?”
Brandon chuckled, “I’m not into tits personally. I love legs and Asian girls.”
“Hey, pool party at my house on Saturday. My parents said if we win the game, we can throw one. The whole team, and the cheerleaders, and we each bring like one or two friends. That’s it,” Jesse said.
“They’re cool with it as long as it’s before 10 o’clock.”
“10? Why?” Brandon said.
“My dad doesn’t want everybody going home drunk and getting in trouble.”
They took a shower. Most of the kids don’t shower after games anymore. Mandatory shower policy was lifted a century ago in most high schools.
Chloe and Brandon went to the Old Spaghetti Factory in downtown Keystone. Downtown Keystone was beautiful, it was an open air mall, several blocks of big named stores and shops, many mom and pop shops, and a few bars. Big magnolia trees decorated the streets of downtown Keystone. The trees had lights wrapped around them, like Christmas trees. In the evenings downtown gets crowded with people.
The two got a table for two, in a dimly lit area of the restaurant.
“So what’s up with Jesse and Vanessa?” Brandon asked.
“Oh, Vanessa likes him. They were talking and started seeing each other like barely last week.”
“Jesse is throwing a pool party at his place Saturday, the team and cheerleaders, we can bring two people. You and somebody else. I was thinking your friend Patricia, she’s slutty right?”
Chloe laughed, “Yeah, but so are all cheerleaders. Bring Raul, he likes one of the cheerleaders, that blond Mexican girl with the big ass, what’s her name?”
“Oh, Bianca. Yeah you’re right. I’ll bring Raul.”
“You should be a professional football guy Brandon.”
“Nah. I like football, but my passion is music. I want to be a musician. Make some money and buy my mama a house.”
“What wrong with your stepdad’s house?”
“I don’t like him. That’s what’s wrong. He beats her Chloe. My real dad treated her like an angel, never raised a voice at her even.”
He looked away, his eyes had gotten watery.
“I’m sorry. That isn’t right. Why doesn’t she leave him?”
“I tell her and beg her to. She tells me she depends on him. I’m saving up. I saved up that money we got from the jewelry stop, and from my part time after school job. I just need enough for a down payment.”
They ate dinner, and went back to Brandon’s place. Chloe climbed the window into his room.
She had light pale skin, smooth and soft everywhere, he liked just laying there and absorbing her naked body with his eyes, her black hair fanned out on his pillow.
“Sleep over,” he said into her ear, pressed down against her lithe body, she beneath he, he inside of her.
“I can’t,” she bit down on her lip, and dug her nails into his shoulder and back, “I have to be home by 12.”
They were laying together, cuddling, enjoying the afterglow, sweaty, her hair damp, his chest wet, his back and shoulders bore scratches and bloody nail marks, staring into each others eyes in silence, in the darkness of his room, under a soft duvet.
Something slammed outside the room and broke the silence.
“Where the fuck is the beer god dammit!” a man’s voice shouted violently.
Chloe got closer to Brandon and held onto him, sacred. Brandon broke his mesmerized gaze and looked at his door.
“I’m sorry. I was busy Robert. I’ll go get you some right now,” his mother said beyond his door.
“I come home from work tired. All I want is a fucking beer. Is that too much to ask? Fuck!”
Brandon’s jaw was clenched. They heard the garage door open, and a car engine start up.
“Are you okay?” she rubbed his chest.
He shook his head, his mind wasn’t with her any more, “You should go. They’re gunna fight more when my mama comes back,” he kissed her, got up and put on his pants.
Chloe rolled off the bed and put on her clothes, “Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like this Chloe,” he said in a loud whisper, “I fucking hate seeing her live like this. I’m sorry you have to see this.”
He walked over to Chloe, whose back was pressed up against the wall next to the window, held her for a long moment, and kissed her.
“I love you,” she kissed him, “call me okay?”
He nodded, said nothing.
She climbed out the window and left.
Brandon sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for his mother to come home. It was routine. He’d wait to make sure she was okay, and tried to go to sleep. His stepfather was twice his size. He took out his vape, and smoked clouds of THC juice, then grabbed a half full bottle of Jack Daniel’s hidden in his closet, and drank, waiting for his mother.
The garage door opened and he heard his mother’s car door close.
“I got your beer,” his mother yelled out.
“Bring it here! I’m fucking eating. I’m tired god dammit! I work all day!”
“I work too Robert! And I come home and clean this house, make your meals, and serve you! And I don’t fucking complain.”
Brandon heard dishes crash against the floor.
“Shut the fuck up!” his stepfather’s voice had become louder and more violent. He heard a slap, his mother screamed.
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again! I’ll fucking kill you!” his stepfather screamed out.
Brandon was leaning up against his door. He wiped a few tears from his cheeks, and took a deep breath, then sank to the floor, hiding his face between his knees, in shame, unable to do anything. He threw the bottle of Jack Daniel’s across the room.
There was silence after that, after his stepfather vented his anger. He crawled into bed, exhausted. It was a long day for Brandon. He closed his eyes. At least his team won. He thought about the game. It made him feel better. And he thought about his girlfriend Chloe. At least he had a girlfriend, who loved him. She said she loved him. He sat up on his bed. His mind was so fixated on his mother, he didn’t pay any attention to his girlfriend telling him she loved him. That was the first time she said ‘I love you’ since they got together. He text her on his Holocom: I love you Chloe. See you tomorrow beautiful.
He laid back down and fell asleep.
“Stop it! Please stop it! Let go of my hair!”
Brandon woke up to his mother screaming very loud, he ran out of bed and opened his door, stood by it. He heard a physical fight in the kitchen.
“No bitch talks to me like that… I’m gunna teach you a fucking lesson…” his stepfather sounded drunk, really drunk. He get’s very violent when he’s drunk, Brandon thought. His heart was pounding, his mother screaming and crying for help. He looked at the time. It was 3:40 in the morning. He put his wallet and keys into his pockets, grabbed some money just in case, and left his room.
He ran into the kitchen to the sight of his mother naked, with a swollen right eye, a fat lip, bleeding mouth, and his stepfather raping her on the kitchen floor. He had dragged her by the hair into the kitchen.
Brandon ran, and tackled his stepfather, drove his knee into the side of his face, and pulled him off his mother, “Get the fuck off her!”
His stepfather got up, and threw him across the kitchen, his head pounded into the dishwasher.
“Fucking punk! I’m gunna fucking kill you, you piece of shit! Get the fuck out of my house!”
His stepfather stormed out of the kitchen. He got up, and grabbed his mother who was crying and hiding her face, “Please, mama, go lock yourself in the garage. Please. Just go!”
His mother got up and made her way to the garage.
Brandon grabbed a knife and waited.
His stepfather came down the hall way with a rifle, “Get out! Get out of my fucking house!”
Brandon ran as fast has he could out the door when he saw his stepfather in the hall way with the rifle.
He ran down the street, with no destination, just to get away. But he didn’t go far. Far enough to be safe, close enough to watch the garage, concerned for his mother.
“Fuck!” Brandon said, helplessly, “Fuck,” he punched the nearest tree in anger. His knuckles were bleeding. He sat down on the curb, listening. There was no more yelling and screaming.
“I’m gunna fucking kill him. I’m gunna kill him,” he cried hard, with his face between his knees.
After an hour had passed, Brandon got up and walked back to the house.
He unlocked the front door.
It was dark and quiet.
He walked into the laundry room and grabbed some clothes for his mother, then made his way quietly to the garage, and unlocked the door with his keys.
His mother was crouched in the corner still naked and terrified. Terrified of her husband, and even more terrified of what he’d do to her if she called the cops on him.
“You okay mama? You alright?” he handed her the clothes and kissed her forehead, then held her, to try and comfort her. She nodded. He cried.
Brandon got up, went to the other side of the garage, where he kept his sports stuff, and grabbed a wooden baseball bat.
He wiped his tears and walked towards the garage door with the bat.
“Brandon… Brandon… what are you doing?” his mother said. “Baby, he’ll kill you. Just leave Brandon, please. He just gets violent when he’s drunk.”
He shook his head, “I ain’t watching you live like this. It kills me inside mama. I love you mama. You stay in here.”
Brandon left the garage.
He walked slowly, towards his mother’s bed room. The door was opened, he stepped inside and walked to the bed. It was empty. He went to the kitchen. His stepfather wasn’t there.
He walked to the sitting room. His stepfather was passed out or asleep on the sofa there. The rifle was on the carpet, along with a dozen cans of beer.
A rage inside over took him. He had kept that rage inside, buried for many years. It was a rage that began when his real father died, he was mad at the world when he died. And this bastard…
Brandon gripped the bat in both hands and swung.
The bat flew into his stepfather’s head.
“Ah!” his stepfather cried out, confused, awoken to the feel of something hard and heavy repeatedly pounding into his flesh and bones. He tried to get away.
Brandon was screaming, nothing coherent, no words, just a scream, and grunts, and growls, like an animal.
“Brandon! Stop it!” his mother yelled out.
She turned on the lights.
His stepfather was on the floor, drenched in blood, his eyes, ears, and head bleeding, the carpet soaked red, he laid there breathing heavy, unconscious.
Brandon backed away at the sight. His bat covered in blood. His mother crying hysterically. All the rage inside of him was gone, burned up, with every swing of the bat. There was no expression on his face. No emotion. Just a numbness and surreal feeling.
He walked outside. Sat on the curb. He cried. And dropped his bat.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a female voice from his Holocom said.
“I need the ambulance quick. My stepfather is bleeding to death in the house. Bring the police. I beat him with a bat. He was beating and raping my mother.”