The Seven Twenties

LIVING in Southern California, you learn that in order to survive you gotta love the streets till the streets don't love you. That's just the way it works down here. You protect the ones you love, kick the asses of the ones you don't. And if you aren't the one doing the ass-kicking and protecting, you better pray that there's someone out there protecting you.

That was the code. The code that every gang banger, prostitute, shop owner, and innocent civilian knew. Stay on the good side of the lesser evil. And in this case, for the residents of the small southern California town know as Woodland Heights, the lesser evil was a ragtag gang of six boys.

And for these six boys, this is the only way of life they knew.

But the one thing they didn't know; if you live by the life, you die by the life.

*

The Seven 20's. That's what he named them when he created the gang 3 years ago. 19 year old Cash, or '12inch' as his friends called him, was ahead of the game. He knew Woodland was going down hill, it was riddled with crime and poverty. Schools were shutting down, people were being evicted, and kids were starving. It was only getting worse by the day. The lovely man running this shit town, Mayor Mitchell, didn't give a hot wet monkey's ass about what went down. The poor families and kids of the town he swore the protect in the 2016 election were none of his concern. He would rather stuff money into the pockets of his rich friends instead of helping out, because his rich friends are what got him elected. And Cash would jump at the chance to knock Mayor Mitchell's goddamn head off.

Now for a gang that's fairly new to the gang life, they've actually made a lot of traction. They keep other gangs in their own turfs and help rebuild the community when they can. Of course, you can't do any of this without having a little dirt and blood on your own hands. Cash knew this would be the cost of protecting his home, but he didn't think it'd actually come this far.

The 10 rules of the gang were simple. It was called the Code.

1.) Nothing happens without going through Cash first.

2.) Narcs and snitches lose their goddamn tongues.

3.) Always have each other's backs. You watch out for your brothers, they watch out for you.

4.) Sharing is caring. Deals are split, evenly.

5.) Only hurt those who deserve to be hurt. Know your enemy.

6.) Learn how to out-lie a liar. Lying is what keeps the gang safe. But never lie to your brothers.

7.) Respect is key.

8.) Kids are off limits. Give them time to learn.

9.) No third chances.

10.) The Seven 20's are forever. Rep until you die. ST for life. You can get jumped out, but it's not the gang you're getting jumped out of. It's life.

Cash knew the risks, and he took them anyway.

This was life his life, whether he liked it or not.

*

Cash glanced at himself in the dirty mirror, wondering how the hell he got to this point in his life. How'd he go from a regular kid to slinging dope just to get enough money to fix this shitty town he had the pleasure of being born in? You might think; if it's so bad, why not just up and leave? Why make an entire gang just to help out a few thousand people? He thought that too. But he has a family here. A sick mom, and a 14 year old little sister. They're the reason he stuck around. And they're the reason he does what he does. If the higher ups won't protect them, then who will?

Cash would never let on how bone tired he was. Tired of the life he created for himself. It was too late to go back out now, he was too deep into it. Besides, he couldn't leave his boys behind. They needed him just as much as he needed them.

A knock on the door snapped Cash out of his thoughts. He turned around, catching the eye of Harrison, aka Toothpick. Toothpick was one of the newer boys to the gang. Having been jumped in only 5 months ago, he was slowly earning his keep. He was a quiet kid. He was respectful and knew when the keep his trap shut; that's what Cash liked about him. He was the 2nd youngest of the six of them at only 18 years old; but with fists like his, you'd think he's been a professional boxer since 1938. He didn't smoke or drink like the rest of them either. He'd box, chew his toothpick, and box some more.

"He's here." He said, not sticking anymore than his head into the small bathroom.

Cash nodded as Toothpick took that as his que to leave. Cash looked to the mirror once again, slowly putting his game face on.

It was show time.

Slowly but surely, he trudged out of the bathroom. The gang house the resided in was of that similar to a frat house. Not in size, but it cleanliness. It was expected; they're boys. Messy boys who are always out around town. They don't have time to clean.

He walked downstairs and into the locked basement. This is where they did their "interrogations". Interrogations...aka beating the shit out of people until they got the answers they wanted. The room was dark and cold, lit only by a singular lightbulb that swayed loosely in the middle of the room. Upon entering, he could see the rest of his gang spread out, all waiting for him.

To his left was Toothpick and Sugar. Sugar, who's real name was Riyeko, leaned coolly against the cinder brick wall, twiddling a silver switchblade in his palm. He was the youngest, only a few months shy of being older than Toothpick. Him and Toothpick were very similar in most aspects, and very different in others. Quiet, reserved, but deadly.

To his right were Frankie aka Starboy, and Ollie aka Boy Scout. Boy Scout and Starboy were the oldest amongst them, both at 20 years old. Boy Scout was a big brute ginger Irishman with coke bottle glasses and biceps that could crush watermelons. He did all the tech work. Hacking, building, tracing. Whatever Cash wanted done on a computer, Boy Scout could do it.

Then there was Starboy. Starboy was...odd. His crocodile skin shoes, black turtleneck, and 24 karat

solid gold chain that hung around his neck weren't exactly interrogation approved attire. Of course, most of his outfit was assembled of stolen goods but hey, he looked damn good.

Directly in front of Cash stood Cig back-slash Aj. Cig and Cash were best friends. They started this thing together, they were gonna end it together. Cig was the one who kept Cash in line. Cash had a tendency of being impulsive and jumping into situations before he knew actually what was going on. Cig's cool-headedness came in handy when Cash was going off the rails.

The boys all looked to him as Cig stepped out of the way, revealing the son of bitch they've been hunting for for a few weeks.

In the center of the room, knocked out and tied to a steel chair, was some weirdo nobody the gang got intel on from some of the freshman and sophomore girls at the local highschool. His name was Herrick Crabtree. A creepy name for a creepy guy.

Cash pulled a wooden chair from beside the door and sat in it backwards, directly at Herrick.

"Damn, he should've waken up by now. Who knocked him out?" Cash asked.

Boy Scout sucked his teeth.

"My bad. I had to hit him with a crow bar."

The boys stared at him in confusion and disbelief as Boy Scout put his hands up in defense.

"What?! The motherfucker tried to bite me!"

Cash shook his head. Three whole years with these idiots, you'd think he'd learn by now the never let Boy Scout do pick ups.

Cash nodded to Toothpick, "Grab some water. Let's wake his ass up."

Soon enough, Toothpick came back with a bucket of ice cold water. After getting the signal from Cash, he tossed it over Herrick's head, causing him to wake with a jolt.

"What the fuck!" He exclaimed as he gasped for air. He wiggled and shook in the chair as reality came rushing to him.

Cash chuckled. "Rise and shine, gorgeous. We gotta talk."

Herrick looked around the room frantically, trying to get a grip on his surroundings. His dirty brown hair that was in desperate need of a washing anyways clinged to his face as he spit water out of his mouth.

Once he somehow managed to calm down, he locked eyes with Cash. It wasn't long until he noticed the large numbers "720" tattooed on his neck. That's when he realized exactly what was going on.

"T-the Seven 20's? I know who you guys are." He sputtered.

"And we know who you are, Herrick Crabtree. Ugly ass name, by the way." Cig answered, swinging the bat he carried around over his shoulders, letting his arms rest on either side of it.

Herrick looked around frantically.

"Look I don't know what this is about. I-I-I dont sling on your turf, I don't hurt nobody, I-I—"

"I ain't even ask you any questions, Crabtree, and you're already lying to me." Cash smiled. It wasn't a polite smile neither.

Herrick, seemingly on the verge of tears, shook his head. He was an ugly bastard, to say the least. His teeth were blackened and chipped, his eye-bags drooped, and it looked like he hadn't eaten in months.

"I'll do whateva' you want. Just please, don't hurt me."

"Well," Cash said, standing and stretching out of his seat. "First, you're gonna tell me exactly why 7 freshman and sophomore girls pointed you out as the guy who follows them home from school everyday."

"Or maybe," Starboy added. "You can tell us why 3 of those girls said you were the guy who tried to follow them into the changing rooms at the mall."

Boy Scout stepped up to plate next. "While you're at it, explain to us why 1 girl in particular— what was her name, uh, Margo- uh, Madison-, uh Maggie! Maggie...Westfield, I think?—said that you sat in your car, parked outside her house, and took pictures of her through her bedroom window."

Cash crouched down to be eye-level with the him, staring directly into his sunken brown eyes. His anger grew by the second, and soon, it'd be unstoppable.

"Do you know...how old Maggie Westfield is, Herrick?"

Herrick, too afraid to answer, simply shook his head.

Cash smirked. "C'mon, dude. Didn't we just talk about the lying? How old is Maggie Westfield?"

"T-thirteen." He stuttered. It's not clear if it's from the shock of the cold water, or from his fear, but boy was he shaking.

"That's right!" Cash clapped. "And how old are you?"

"Thirty..."

"Thirty...?" Cash edged him on.

"T-thirty four..." Herrick finally admitted.

"There we go, big boy." Cash chuckled, playfully slapping Herrick's cheek.

"You know, I got a sister around Maggie's age. Matter of fact, she has two classes with Maggie. AP Biology and Honors Algebra, I think is what she told me. Yeah, she's freaky smart like that. Anyways, if my sister came up to me and told me that a grown man was following her home from school and taking pictures of her...do you know what I'd do?"

Crabtree violently shook his head.

"N-no sir..."

"Well, you're about to find out." Cash's oddly friendly composure changed in a snap. All of a sudden, he was ice cold. You could feel the ice from his veins. But as quick as the frost came, it also disappeared.

"Do you see the problem here, my man? Cause we see it." Cig added, slowly inching closer to him.

Herrick nodded his head, letting them know he understood.

Cash sighed and stood back up, walking towards the door. He turned to face Herrick again, and gave him a sad smile.

"Look, gorgeous. Unfortunately, I can't let you go. You did some weird ass, fucked up, pedophile type shit. Those girls are kids, you know that right? But...since I'm a nice guy, I'll let you choose. You see those two boys over there?"

Herrick followed Cash's finger to where he pointed and Sugar and Toothpick standing quietly in the corner. Herrick nodded, barely whimper an audible 'yes'.

"Well, you get to pick one of them. One is gonna knock your goddamn teeth out of your mouth. He'll maybe even break your legs and all of your fingers if he's feeling frisky. The other one is more likely than not, gonna chop off your balls. So, Herrick, since you're our lovely guest, I'll let you pick. Door number one, or door number two?"

Herrick sat wide eyed, not sure what to say. How could he choose his own fate? It was inevitable, but a horrifying decision none the less. A few seconds of silence had passed, and Cash was growing impatient.

"Fuck it." He laughed. "Why have one, when you can have both? Lets bounce."

Starboy, Boy Scout, and Cig slowly walked out of the room and back up the stairs. Cash lingered at the door before giving a nod to Sugar and Toothpick.

"Have fun, boys."

"W-wait." Herrick called. "Wait, you can't do this!"

It was too late. Cash shut the door behind him, and made his way back up the stairs.

"You can't fucking do this, you hear me?! Let me out of here!"

The screaming didn't last for long.

The rest of the boys gathered upstairs into the dining room area. Cash grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the top off, taking a long swig from it.

It was a nice day in the neighborhood. Aside from the sick creep downstairs, the streets have been quiet. That's how the gang liked it.

"So, that's handled." Boy Scout sighed as he sat at the table. "What's next?"

Cig and Starboy also took their seats, looking to Cash for answer.

Cash quickly finished the rest of his beer before taking his seat at the head of the table.

"How's business, Frankie?" He asked.

Starboy leaned back in his chair and tapped mindlessly on the table. "Same as always. We got the buyers in LA expecting a drop next month. Couple bands for each kilo. That gives us about 200 grand in cash, give or take. If we put 100,000 of that into buying the next batch, and 25 grand into fixing the homeless shelter like we've been trying to for months...that leaves us 75 to play with."

Cash nodded. He liked what he was hearing.

Slinging dope was how he kept Woodland alive. Of course, they kept drugs out of their own town, but the money they got from selling it to larger cities like LA and Las Vegas was money that kept the town afloat.

"Good. Make it happen." He turned to Cig. "Cig, what's the update with Pigsty?"

Pigsty was a nickname for the Chief of Police, Officer Womby. The gang gave him intel and kept petty criminals off the streets when WHPD can't. In return, Womby turns a blind eye to their operation. It was a symbiotic relationship they had going. One that Cig was in charge of keeping tabs on.

"Same old, same old. He's still a dirty cop." Cig laughed. "He'll be happy when we bring in that clusterfuck downstairs. That is, hoping Sugar and Toothpick don't kill him first."

A laugh ran around the table and slowly came to an end.

"Well. Seems like everything's in order for the week." Boy Scout stated. "Do you guys wanna—"

"Ollie O'Brien!" A voice screeched.

Before Boy Scout could get out the words, a familiar face burst through their front door. If it were anyone else, they'd be dead in a second. Fortunately and unfortunately, they knew exactly who it was.

Lo and behold Boy Scout's annoyingly loud on-again/off-again girlfriend, Veronica Sinclair. She was hot, but crazy. With long wavy rose gold hair that fell to her waist and nails like an eagle's talons, she was a 'take no shit' kind of girl. Ever wonder how Boy Scout got his name? It's because if you didn't know any better, you'd think Veronica was his troop leader the way he follows her around.

"Oh my god, Veronica. What the hell are you doing here?" Boy Scout asked as he threw his head back in a groan.

Veronica waltzed into the dining room, her high heels clicking loudly across the old wooden floors.

"What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? You were supposed to pick me up two hours ago! Oh, hey boys."

"Hey, V." The boys replied with slightly amused tones.

"Look, we got held up." He sighed.

"Sorry, V." Cash interrupted. "It's my fault. I kept him behind. If you wanna blame anyone, blame me."

"Oh, I'll get to you. Keep him late again and your ass is grass, and I'm the lawn mower. Understand?!" She snapped.

Cash put his hands up in defense and leaned back in his chair. "Yes ma'am."

He was in no way scared of Veronica, but if appeasing her would get her loud ass out of the house faster, then so be it.

All of a sudden, she grabbed Ollie by the ear.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Jesus Christ, V!" He complained as she dragged him the front door.

"Quit your whining, I'm late for my hair appointment! Bye, boys!"

"Bye, V." The boys replied again.

The house grew quiet again. Boy Scout loved Veronica, they all knew it. However opposites attract, and those too were more alike than either of them were willing to admit.

"Welp, V's got the right idea. I gotta bounce. I gotta pick up Angel from practice then I gotta check on my mom. Help Sugar and Toothpick clean up whatever mess they made down there, will you?"

Cash decided as he stood from his chair.

"Of course. Stay safe, 12. ST for life."

He dapped up Cig and Starboy and headed for the door.

ST for life.