Three minutes. That’s all it took for the course of his life to diverge, his ambitions and priorities to shift in a different direction. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been groomed for this. He was South Side after all. Kids in his neighborhood grew up ready to piss their potential away at the hands of drugs and crime. He’d been an eager participant in too many objectionable acts to count, so he figured he may as well man the fuck up and get paid for it. It wasn’t that he was unaware that it was stupid as hell to be standing in the middle of a dilapidated building with four men squared up around him; it was just that Evan didn’t care.
“Only jumped me in with two,” Kane said, making sure the disapproval could be heard in his voice, but careful that it wasn’t too loud.
“Yeah, well, you’re always talking up how tough the fucker is, G. We going to find out if it’s true,” Cedric replied with a wry smile. “You bad, Red? Hmm?” he questioned, the challenge evident on his face.
Kane threw an apologetic look toward Evan, but he was too busy staring down Cedric to acknowledge it.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Evan stated flatly.
One of the bangers standing behind him cracking his knuckles obnoxiously caused adrenaline to flood Evan’s veins and made his fists clench tight. He’d been in plenty of fights. From typical scrapping with classmates when he was younger to angry ass beatings and some fight club shit, he’d never felt like he’d been bested.
As cocky as he was, he wasn’t delusional. If he’d been brawling four guys who were smaller than him, he would’ve worried about his chances. Taking on four guys who were around his size had him focusing on survival rather than victory.
Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. Not in this situation or any other. Bitching was for bitches, and he wasn’t a fucking bitch. He’d learned at an early age that nobody gave a shit about what he said, and they gave even less of a shit when he griped, so he didn’t.
“Guess we will,” Cedric agreed. “Got the timer ready?” he asked, turning to Kane and Jamal, who were sitting on upside-down milk crates. “Keep him honest.”
“Know me better than that,” Kane huffed, clearly insulted by the implication that he would fuck around with the time. As much as he didn’t want Evan to endure more than he had to, he’d told his brother earlier, he wasn’t going to cut it short. Evan was a big boy and knew what he was getting himself into, he knew the score.
“Blood is blood,” Cedric stated with a click of his tongue, “right?”
“Blood is Klown Killerz,” the younger Goodwyn shot back, earning him a satisfied nod from Cedric, an appreciative pat on his back from his friend beside him, and nothing from the man standing inside the circle of wolves; not that he’d expected anything from him anyway.
Malted beer had always been thicker than blood in their family; it’s why Kane had joined up in the first place. He wanted to feel like he was a part of something, loved, special. He’d told Evan he would benefit from the camaraderie, too. Kane had always been a loner, more difficult to understand than the rest of Evan’s siblings who spouted off their issues like a busted fire hydrant. It wasn’t that Kane didn’t love Evan. He did. It was more that he didn’t really know him.
Evan wondered if anyone ever had.
“What’re your favorite colors?” Trent barked out. “Hurry the fuck up. I wanna get this shit over. I got shit to do for a couple of the O-Gs.”
“Maroon, blue, and white,” Evan rattled off, feeling his body vibrate with anticipation of what was about to go down.
Cedric nodded. “We about to make that white body bleed maroon and bruise blue. Make you prove you’re worthy of wearing those colors.”
Three minutes. It was incredible how short a minute felt when Evan sprayed graffiti or got lost in his drawings. Hours turned to seconds, which was particularly problematic when he was tagging. Too many times, he’d found himself so wrapped up in his piece that he forgot that his brand of art wasn’t appreciated by the cops. The only benefit he’d derived from his propensity for distraction was that it had conditioned him to run fast and hurdle high. He was well aware neither of those skills was going to come in handy in his current situation. It seemed a tolerance for pain and an outpouring of suppressed anger were going to be his most valuable tools.
He was cognizant that he needed to focus on Cedric and Trent, because getting hit from behind was too much of a pussy move for the KKz.
Though he knew it was coming, the first punch took him by surprise. He had been expecting the blow to be delivered by Cedric, but it was a jab from Trent directly in Evan’s right jaw that started the clock. He admonished himself for letting them get one in, but shook it off when he remembered how unrealistic it would’ve been for them not to. When Trent went for a second jab, Evan blocked him and gave the dude an uppercut that had his head spinning as he fell back. Evan’s survival instincts had heightened his senses, allowing him to tune into every sound and detect from where the next threat was coming.
“Strong,” Cedric grumbled, signaling for the two guys behind Evan to restrain him so that he could whale on him. “But that ain’t really the point, man.”
They didn’t hold Evan there for long, but it was enough time for Cedric to fuck him up pretty good. Without the ability to defend himself, punch after punch clobbered his body from his head to his stomach and back up again. The pain was so intense and widespread that he could barely focus on which parts were affected. When his arms were dropped, his body went slack, but it took him a second to comprehend what the lack of support indicated. Upon realization, he implored his wobbly knees to hold him upright, knowing he’d be worse off on the ground. As he bobbed he felt warmth pouring from his nose and mouth, the unmistakable taste of iron on his tongue.
With four men coming at him in unison, his attempts at landing hits were futile, but he kept swinging anyway, refusing to fall until he received a brutal uppercut from the man he’d given one to moments before, and Evan went down. He felt his eyes rolling back in his head as feet pounded into his body; the several kicks his stomach and balls received had him gasping for air. He curled up in the eye of the storm of aggression as agony rained down upon him. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, it stopped. As quickly as it had escalated, it subsided, hands reaching for his to pull him up to a seated position and pats on his back congratulating him for his new status.
“Put up a good fucking fight,” Trent complimented, rubbing his jaw as he looked down at the battered man Evan had become.
Evan nodded and turned his head to the side a bit so he could spit out a wad of blood. Tracing his tongue over the upper and lower rows of his teeth, he checked that they were all still there, relieved when he felt that they were.
“Told you he was hard,” Kane boasted, leaning down to hug his brother, who grimaced at the touch but still managed to lift his aching arms to hug Kane back. “Blood in, man.”
“Blood in,” Evan muttered, spitting again and watching as it splatted across the concrete ground.
“Not going to lie, tough as a motherfucker,” Cedric commended, tossing Evan a blue bandana to clean up his face with. “But I don’t think they’re going to put him on the war crew, he’s definitely party.”
Evan looked up at them skeptically as he wiped off the blood. Kane had given him the rundown of as much of the Klown Killers’ activities as he could, but he hadn’t told Evan anything about a party crew. He enjoyed getting faded, probably more than he should have, but parties weren’t his thing. “I tag,” he informed him with a sputtering cough. “Could do that.”
“They’ll have you tag turf, no doubt, man. But that ain’t going to bring in any money. War crew does that physical shit. Protects our turf, drive-bys, extortion, robbery, kidnapping, homicide, peddling the product, you know, all that,” Trent explained. “They put the pretty boys on party crew.”
“Should I be insulted?” Kane joked, lighting a cigarette, “Because I’m pretty fucking insulted.”
“Shut the fuck up, cuz. You pull more pussy than any of us.” Jamal grinned, pounding his friend’s knuckle with his own.
“Speak for yourself.” Cedric smirked.
“If I’m not doing any of that, what am I doing?” Evan asked, uninterested with hearing how much tail the guys were pulling.
“You deal with hoes and parties. Dress up real nice, go around to the clubs and get hot, rich bitches to be down with Klown Killerz,” stated one of the members who had participated in holding him back so Cedric could beat the shit out of him.
“So, getting guys fucked?” Evan questioned, unimpressed. Dealing with women was incredibly low on his list of shit he wanted to do in his life.
“Some of that, but we get the bitches to do shit for us. We use their cars for drive-bys, have them run drugs, give us shit from where they work at, come to our parties so we can sell more beer cups, sometimes we get them into whoring,” Cedric clarified. “A few of the O-Gs will let you know more tomorrow. Sleep this shit it off, a’ight man? Don’t worry about anything. You going to be good to walk?” He extended Evan a hand, which he took, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. A wave of nausea immediately had his stomach flipping, causing him to bend over and dry heave. It was the first time he was thankful that he hadn’t had anything to eat for the past two days.
“I got him,” Kane assured the rest of the guys as they fist pounded and half-hugged their good-byes.
“Party crew?” Evan lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips at his brother. “You never told me anything about that.”
“Figured you’d roll with me, I guess,” Kane said with a shrug. “It’s pretty cool though. Don’t got to worry too much about doing serious time if you get popped by the cops.”
Evan let out a light laugh, which he instantly regretted, holding on to his side and groaning at the stabbing pain in his rib. “I don’t know, three squares and some fresh suburban air doesn’t sound that bad right now.” Neither did the never-ending rotation of “gay for the stay” ass he could fuck, but he certainly wasn’t going to add that.
“You’re saying that now because you’re all fucked up,” Kane teased with a toothy smile. “You’ll feel better in the morning. You find a place to stay yet?”
“Nah, but got a spot at the shelter last night, so it was a’ight.” Evan hoped he’d get a bed tonight too. The summer day was scorching and sleeping on the ground would be brutal on his bruised body.
“Crash with me and the boys,” Kane offered. “You’re affiliated now, not going to be a problem.”
“You sure?” Typically, Evan didn’t like to take any favors, but in his current state he was willing to make an exception.
“Yeah, man. Skizzo got thrown in the can for racketeering, so there’s an extra room and a bed. All that shit. We even got air.”
“That’s awesome.” Evan nodded his approval. “Thanks.”
“Not awesome for Skizzo,” Kane stated with a smirk.
“Plus they call him Skizzo, so that kinda sucks to begin with.” Evan chuckled then grasped his side and sighed out of the laugh. “You have hot water?”
“Yup.”
And just like that, three minutes had changed his whole life.