But still.
“Okay fine,” I say. “You were right. I just don’t want to talk about it, it’s too early.”
Luke grins. “Don’t stress, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, for sure. I’m just happy for you! For a minute there I thought you were going to end up as one of those virgins on the internet who always complain that nobody will screw them.”
“You thought I was an incel?”
“Not yet. But I thought you might become one.”
He’s got to be messing with me. I give him the finger. It just makes him chuckle.
I know I should let it drop and stop messaging Jason now that Luke’s aware I’m messaging someone I care about. If he found out I am acting this way because I am messaging a guy, then, well, I guess he could think I’m gay.
I don’t want that.
But I want to know what Jason messaged me so badly.
I lift my phone.
Hey. So. Changing topic: There’s this school dance coming up. It’s probably the worst theme ever, and it’s bound to be hilariously bad. Do you want to come? It’s cool if you can’t, but you know, if you wanted to, you could join.
I stare at the message.
I think he just invited me to a dance.
This is, like … so amazing.
The typing bubble appears.
As friends, obviously!
Oof.
Yeah, obviously.
Sounds fun! What day is it? If I’m free, I’m there.
It’s next Friday. Hope you can make it! It’d be more fun with you there.
Nobody has ever said that to me. More fun with you there. What a dream. I’m going. I already know it. I’m not going to miss this dance for anything. Not to be dramatic, but even if I had a chance to meet David Lynch or Spielberg, I’d pick this dance.
Cool! I’m free, so I’m in.
Amazing!!! I’m so glad. I’ll get you a ticket. You have a suit already, right?
I sure do.
Sweet. I can’t wait to see it.
I type out: I can’t wait to see you in yours.
I delete it. It’s too flirty, and I think it might give away how my feelings for him have escalated.
I look up and see that we’ve pulled into our destination.
It’s a shipping area, filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of shipping containers. I can see the dark ocean, along with a few massive hauler boats, moored to the dock with thick chains. The space is lit by floodlights scattered around the place, but there aren’t enough to properly light a space as big as this, so it has a gloomy darkness clinging to it.
I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty freaky.
I wish I could stay in the car.
I know I have zero chance of that, though. I sat out last time we did something like this without getting punished. I’m not going to get lucky like that again.
Jason distracted me for a while, but this is my real life. What’s happening right now, this is what my life is really about.
It’s a miserable, bleak nightmare.
Even though I resist it, everyone in my family wants me to be a part of this world.
And that’s kind of the appeal of being a criminal.
Whatever you want, you get.
Luke parks in a lot that’s surrounded by a wire fence.
Other cars are in the lot. I recognize some of them. They’re all from other family members. A few of them are out of their cars, leaning against a shipping container, smoking. Gross. They’re all wearing dark clothes: suits for the men, long coats and dresses for the women. It’s like a uniform.
I’m in my ill-fitting suit again, because I’m saving my new one. Dad probably would’ve called me on it, but so far, Luke hasn’t. I tug at the sleeve.
“Ready?” asks Luke.
“Yep.”
We get out of the car.
I spot Tony, Vince, and his wife, my aunt Sara. Her dress is white, with black flowers on it. She seems nice, but she’s married to Vince, so I’ve always felt like it needs to be an act. No one truly nice could be married to someone who tortures people. It must require a hell of a lot of cognitive dissonance to even spend any time with him.
None of the older members of my family are here, like Grandma, although it seems like all of Dad’s generation is here. The only one missing is Dad.
It’s only Millers, though.
No allied families.
Meaning no Jason.
Phew.
I don’t want to see him here.
He’s my escape from this world. Seeing him here would make that way harder. I really like that, because of our deal, our friendship is totally separate from all this stuff.
So what if it’s a little like playing make-believe?
There are definitely worse things that people can do.
I have a feeling I’m going to see that firsthand tonight.
We approach our family. Vince is staring at me like I’m one of his victims. There’s this evil gleam in his eyes and in the curve of his smirk. He has his switchblade out, and keeps opening and closing it. The silver blade shines. I notice there are bloodstains on the white cuff of his shirt.
“You’re late,” says Vince. “I’m guessing it’s Matt’s fault?”
Luke scowls. “Don’t be a dick, traffic was bad on Palm Ave.”
“If you say so.”
Vince clicks his switchblade closed. His daughters are behind him. Even though they’re two years apart, they both have the same haircut, with bangs that cover their foreheads. It makes them look like twins.
I hate those two.
They seem way too into the fact that their dad tortures people.
It freaks me out.
As a family, we start walking through the shipping-container area. The containers are stacked on top of one another, so they dwarf us. It’s sort of like a giant metal maze. Vince leads the pack, and he seems to know exactly where he’s going. He keeps up a quick pace, still clicking his switchblade, and the crowd follows behind him.
“Hey, Matty,” says Becca, the older of the two. She’s fourteen.
“Hey.”
“You going to keep it together tonight, or nah?”
One time, years ago, Dad yelled at me at a dinner, after I spilled my soda on the dining table. I cried. They haven’t let me forget it.
“Back off,” growls Luke.
The two giggle, but then fall back out of step with us.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I shouldn’t need to stand up for you,” he says. “You don’t have to take any crap from anyone.”
“That would imply they bothered me. Which they didn’t.”
“Well, good.”
They kind of did, though.
I want to go back to the car so bad.
I know whatever is waiting for me is something I’m going to hate. But I can’t turn around. Everyone already thinks I’m soft, but I haven’t actually given them a concrete reason to think that yet. If I went back, it’d be more than a suspicion.
It’d be a fact that’ll follow me for the rest of my life.
I’ll be known forever as a coward.
Plus, even if I did have the guts to ask, they wouldn’t let me go.
I know that I’m a weak spot in my family. Dad is so strong, so the one way that they can all get to him is through me. Because I represent him, much to his chagrin. It’s even more important now that he’s been taken out of the game, at least for a while. Luke and I need to represent him while he heals.
Still.
If I don’t leave, I’m going to see a guy Vince has tortured.
And I’ll never be able to get it out of my head. I slow my pace. I need to do it. I need to leave.
I turn, and see that Luke is watching me. He shakes his head slowly.
Okay.
He knows.
That’s okay.
I should trust him. Luke has always been so good at this stuff. If he tells me I shoul
d stay here, then I should listen to him. Seeing whatever is waiting for me might be bad, but leaving would be worse.
Probably way worse.
Vince stops walking and pockets his switchblade. His two daughters are grinning.
The shipping container in front of us is totally unremarkable. It looks pretty much the same as the thousands of others. Rusted metal, chipped paint, and a damaged door that’s seen better days.
Vince lifts up a roller door, and I have to hold back a gasp.
Sitting in the middle of the container is a boy.
Or, a man. Just, a young one.
He’s chained to a chair, and there’s a bloody burlap sack over his head.
He’s shirtless, and his body has been cut a few times. Rivers of dried blood run down from the cuts. He’s still breathing, as his chest is rising and falling, but he’s alarmingly pale and limp. His hands are tied behind his back and are lying slack.
How long has he been here, like this?
“I’m back,” says Vince. “Did you miss me?”
The boy starts thrashing. He strains against his bonds, but his hands are tied tightly, and his ankles are bound to the legs of the chair, so he’s helpless. He struggles, but he’s not going anywhere.
“Now,” says Vince to us, ignoring the thrashing guy. “What I’m about to show you will shock you. But I think it’s in all your best interests to see this yourselves. I want you all to hear the story from the horse’s mouth.”
The boy starts shouting, but I think he has a gag in, as he lets out only a muffled sound.
I would honestly give anything to be somewhere else right now.
“Are you ready?” asks Vince.
Everyone nods.
Vince goes up to the boy and pulls off the burlap sack. His face is covered in dried blood, and the skin around one of his eyes is purple and puffy. I was right before: He has a balled-up cloth in his mouth.
Holy shit.
I recognize him.
He’s one of Barbie Barker’s rent boys.
The one who checked me out on the night I met Jason.
What’s he doing here?
“Does anyone recognize this man?” asks Vince. He puts his hands on the guy’s shoulders and scans the crowd.
I look into the guy’s eyes. They’re wide with fear.
They find mine. A flicker of recognition.
Crap.
Nobody says anything. And I’m not about to admit that I recognize him. He’s a gay sex worker. If I point out that I know him, people will ask questions. More than that, though, I don’t want anything to do with what’s going on right now.
I can’t help him.
I want to, but there’s nothing I can do.
I look into his eyes, and at least try to convey that I’m sorry. I hope he gets it. I hope he knows that if I had my way, this wouldn’t be happening to him. That I hate this stupid war and the way that my family can do this to someone.
“He used to work for Barbie,” says Vince, then he slaps his face.
The boy growls, baring his teeth.
“But that wasn’t why he came to the bar.”
“Who is he?” asks Luke.
“I could tell you myself, but I think it’d be best to hear this from him.”
Vince reaches down and pulls out the gag.
“HELP!” shouts the guy, but his voice is hoarse. I don’t think it carries very far. “SOMEONE HELP ME!”
Silence answers him.
He changes tack.
He looks at me.
“Please, help me. One of you must have a heart. Please. I have a family. My mom, I’m her favorite. You can’t let him kill me, I—”
“Quiet,” says Vince. He presses the flat of his blade against the guy’s throat. He falls silent.
“Good lad. Now, talk. Tell them what you told me.”
He shakes his head.
“Come on now, play fair,” says Vince. “We had a deal, remember? I won’t hurt you … as long as you behave.”
Vince moves the blade in front of the boy’s face.
He stares Vince down. “You can’t make me.”
“You want to bet on that? I already know, this is just for dramatic effect. Either way, they’ll know everything. You may as well save yourself the pain.”
The guy looks down, clearly thinking hard.
“Too slow.” Vince grins, and moves closer, raising the blade.
“Stop!” he shouts. “I’ll talk, just don’t!”
“Then do it, and make it good. You’ve wasted enough of our time.”
The boy looks up. He can’t be that old, midtwenties at the latest. Vince pats him on the head, smoothing down his matted hair. He looks totally beaten down, defeated. There’s this desperate look in his eyes.
I think he knows he’s going to die.
He must.
I guess he’s just trying to decide how much pain he’s going to go through before that happens.
This is monstrous.
I can’t be here. I can’t be a part of this.
I turn to leave, but Luke’s hand ends up on my shoulder. He presses down. The message is clear: Stay.
“Tell them what you told me,” says Vince.
“I don’t work for Barbie,” he says. “Not really, anyway.”
“Go on.”
“We were losing the war, so my aunt came up with a plan. The idea was to infiltrate your ranks, posing as your friends, your allies. We wanted to learn how you work so we could take you down from the inside. We called it the Friend Scheme.”
He takes his gaze to the floor.
“This is their plan,” says Vince. “This is why they’ve gone quiet. They’re trying to break into our ranks and destroy us from the inside. They could be anyone, someone at your school, someone who cuts your hair, a passerby who has taken an interest in you. Anyone. They might seem like your friend, but all they want is to know our secrets. You must be extremely wary of anyone new who has come into your life. Anyone who has taken a new shine to you cannot be trusted.”
Holy shit. There’s no way this is the same, though. No. Way.
“Now,” says Vince. “Why don’t you tell these fine folks who you really are?”
He swallows hard, then he looks up.
“I’m Ryan Donovan.”
Vince walks around him and presses his blade to Ryan’s throat.
I know what’s about to happen.
I look away just in time.
PART TWO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m freaking out.
It’s the night of the dance that Jason invited me to.
And I think I’m going to go. Even knowing what I do now.
He’s part of the Friend Scheme. A Donovan. I know it in my gut. That means someone in his family shot my dad. He might’ve even done it, for all I know.
He lied.
My first true friend, and it was all a lie.
All he wanted was for us to become friends, to learn about my family, through me. It fits too perfectly to not be the case. It explains why he wouldn’t give up his last name, why he asked me about my family, and why he even talked to me in the first place.
I know what I should do. I should tell Dad everything, starting with meeting Jason in the bathroom of the bar.
The diner. Swimming. Hanging out at my place.
I need to tell him about all of it.
I haven’t done anything wrong yet. Sure, I snuck him into our house, but I was with him the entire time. He couldn’t have done anything. Right now, I haven’t messed up at all. I fell for the scheme, sure, but they can’t get too mad at me for that. What I do now is what really matters.
I have to tell Dad. But I know what’ll happen if I do. It’ll lead Vince or someone else to Jason.
They’ll kill him.
I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ryan Donovan. I’ve been adjacent to death for so long, but that was the first time I saw it up close. I mean, I looked away, and didn’
t look at him again. As a crowd we quickly moved away, because death is necessary but ugly. Vince and Tony, along with Luke, dealt with the body (burned, to leave no evidence). I waited in Luke’s car.
Someone I sort of know was murdered.
And I’m supposed to not care about it.
I do, though. So much. I haven’t been able to sleep properly, and the sleep I do get is plagued with nightmares. I’ve pretty much given up on eating; it makes me feel too queasy. I think I’ve lost a few pounds, as I can now see my ribs jutting out even when I’m in a T-shirt.
I think that’s part of the reason I’m not mad at Jason. He might’ve tried to trick me, but a man died.
It puts things into perspective.
I mean, I am angry at him, but that’s not my main emotion. Mostly, I’m confused. Because our connection feels so real to me. Even knowing about this scheme, it still feels real.
Maybe he’s just a really good actor.
So I want to talk to him. Because I need to be sure about this. Like, maybe this is all in my head. Maybe he isn’t a Donovan, and it’s just a coincidence it lines up so well. Because if he’s been trying to betray me this whole time, he’s a freaking incredible actor.
I’m going to hear him out. But there can’t be any more secrets between us.
He needs to tell me who he is.
* * *
I have a plan. I’m going to talk to Jason tonight at the dance and find out who he is. If he’s a Donovan, I’m going to drop him from my life. I’ll ghost him if I need to.
Simple as that.
If he’s not, which I so hope is the case … then I’m going to continue on as normal.
Although even that might be risky. What if he lies? If he truly is part of the scheme, then letting him know I’m onto him could be dangerous.
Plus, I can’t let Dad or Luke know where I’m going. They know about the Friend Scheme, and are sure to be wary about anyone new in my life. Even if he says he isn’t a Donovan, he’s still someone new in my life, so Dad won’t let me hang out with him.
I need to lie to everyone, basically. And I’ve never been good at that.
I’m wearing my white shirt and my black pants, along with dress shoes. In my backpack, I have my new suit and my tie. I hope they don’t get too wrinkled. I’ll put them on once I get to his school. It’s my new one, the one I’m supposed to wear to the Miller ball. It actually fits me, and it makes a big difference. In this suit, I think I look a lot older. I finally look how I’m supposed to.
The Friend Scheme Page 11