Sophia makes a choking noise, her mouth moving like a fish that just got pulled out of the water. “I was just talking about Zaya’s hair.”
“I heard what you said.” He taps his knuckles against the fullness of his lower lip. Leather creaks as he pushes off from the wall and stands to his full height. Elliot’s style is full-on Rebel Without a Cause meets Rodeo Drive: black motorcycle jacket made of Italian leather, fitted jeans that have been tailored, and a white designer t-shirt that costs as much as some people’s car payments. “Maybe you should take a page from Zaya’s book. Hasn’t anybody ever told you that silence is golden? It keeps our mouths from writing checks that our lily white asses can’t cash.”
Sophia isn’t quite smart enough to keep the defiance out of her voice. “Why are you defending her, anyway? I thought all you Vice Lords had a hard-on for messing with her.”
“I don’t make the rules,” Elliot replies with a careless shrug. “But Zaya is Founding, you should remember that.”
He stalks away without sparing any of us another glance.
Elliot isn’t exactly a white knight. The lesson is as much for me as it is for Sophia. Just because Vin has decided I have to suffer doesn’t mean he is always willing to share the privilege. But if I’d spoken a word in my own defense, whatever the Vice Lords did to me would make Sophia Taylor look like a preschool teacher.
Like always, I’m on my own.