The community run wrapped up in a haze of gratitude and lingering adrenaline.
Shane's phone was already blowing up with new contacts from half a dozen West Side moms—phone numbers, friend requests, the works. After snapping a few more pictures with the kids at the school gate, he fired up his scooter. Kevin climbed on behind him.
Once they hit the familiar South Side streets, Kevin leaned in close and shouted over the wind, "Dude, you crushed it today! But you really not worried those three assholes are gonna come looking for payback once they get out? Big-Mouth Ray holds a grudge like it's his full-time job."
Shane let out a short laugh. "Payback? They gotta get out first."
Kevin blinked. "They just shoved you around and ran their mouths. Nobody actually got hit. Street shit like that? Couple days in lockup, a fine, and they're back on the corner selling hot dogs."
Shane glanced over his shoulder. "Kevin, you think today was about whether fists flew?"
"What the hell else was it about?"
Shane kept his eyes on the road. "Remember—I'm still only seventeen."
Kevin went quiet for a solid three seconds. Then: "Oh shit."
"Yeah," Shane said, voice flat. "All those West Side moms saw three grown men surround and shove a minor who was protecting kids. They heard the death threats and the 'I'll break your legs' bullshit aimed straight at children. Whole thing's on clear video, multiple witnesses, right by an elementary school. That's not a scuffle anymore. That's a police report that writes itself."
He let that sink in before continuing. "Even the lightest charge is a Class C misdemeanor. But the way that kid's mom and the lady who called the cops were looking? Big-Mouth Ray's the ringleader—he's looking at Class D felony territory. The other two are accomplices. They're not walking away clean."
Kevin's brain finally caught up. "Okay, but they can still post bail, right? Sit in county for a day or two and they're out waiting for court."
Shane laughed louder this time. "You think they can afford bail? Class D as the main guy? That's minimum a few grand. Even with South Side connections knocking it down, Ray's looking at four thousand easy. His buddies? Two or three grand each. Kevin, can you pull four grand in cash right now?"
Kevin thought about the Alibi's weekly take, then his own pockets. "I'd have to empty Veronica's stash, hit up Tommy and everybody, maybe even ask you Gallaghers…"
"Exactly," Shane cut in. "And these guys? They don't have it. Even if they tried a loan shark, who the hell is lending serious cash to somebody staring down a felony trial? So most likely they sit in county until their court date—weeks, maybe months."
Kevin shivered on the back of the scooter just picturing it.
"Even if they somehow scrape the money together and get out," Shane went on, taking the next turn smooth, "their little vending empire is finished. You think those West Side moms are letting this go? They're already flooding city hall, the alderman, the community board—emails, calls, the whole angry-suburbanite playbook. After today, you really think the city's gonna let three violent vendors keep operating right by a subway stop and an elementary school?"
Kevin followed the logic. "They could just set up somewhere else."
Shane shook his head. "City just got their asses handed to them by a bunch of tax-paying white moms. They need a win. These three are perfect—clear evidence, perfect optics. The city's gonna make an example out of them to show they 'care about community safety.' Good luck getting any new permits after that."
Kevin stayed quiet, the full picture finally clicking: Ray and his crew stuck in county, no bail money, waiting on a felony case. Even if they beat it or got light time, they'd come out wearing an ankle monitor, their spots gone, and every city department suddenly interested in their paperwork. No income, bills stacking up, house gone, straight to the street.
He tightened his grip on Shane's waist without thinking. "Jesus, man… you're terrifying. Glad I wasn't the one who snitched on you."
"Hey, watch the gay shit," Shane said, twisting a little. His tone lightened. "Point is, Kevin—don't fuck with Gallaghers. Especially when they've got a little brother who holds grudges and actually knows how the system works."
Kevin muttered behind him, "Especially when that brother is a scary little genius."
"Damn right." Shane grinned. "Now shut up and get ready. We're adding two extra sets to your strength training today."
Kevin's wail cut through the wind. "Shit! Shane, I knew it! I was just feeling bad for those guys—nah, I was scared! I need comfort, not extra reps!"
The breakfast-van mess was officially behind them.
Whether Big-Mouth Ray and his crew scraped together ten grand for bail, rotted in county until trial, or walked out only to get slowly crushed by a swarm of pissed-off West Side moms until their whole lives collapsed…
Who the hell knew?
Maybe ask the moms themselves. They were already blowing up the parent group chats and community email lists, swapping stories and screenshots from today's "terrifying experience." They'd probably follow the case closer than anyone.
For now, though, let's swing the camera away from Shane and check in on the rest of the Gallaghers.
Starting with the other main character in the van drama—Lip Gallagher. What the hell was he doing this Saturday?