by Steve Gannon
“I’m not talking to anyone. And if you tell, I swear I’ll kill you. Or myself. I’m not kidding, Trav.”
“I’m supposed to keep quiet like the kid in your story? This isn’t make-believe, Ali. This is real.”
“No one else is ever going to read that story, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, I’ll—”
“You made Nate promise, too,” Travis interrupted as the final pieces slipped into place. “I wondered about his sleeping through all that. He saw what happened. And to protect yourself, you made him promise not to tell.”
“He didn’t see anything,” Allison lied. “And I haven’t told you anything, either. Not one damn thing. And I’m not going to. And if you ever open your mouth about tonight, you’ll be sorry. Now, get the hell out of here and leave me alone.”
“Allison, you’re acting as though what happened was your fault. You don’t have any reason to be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed!”
“You’re sure acting like it.”
“Fuck off, Travis,” Allison shouted. “I don’t need an amateur psych evaluation from you.”
Travis paused, staring in open bewilderment. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “I don’t understand you at all.”
“Who asked you to?”
“Nobody. I just want to help.”
“You and everybody else.”
“Listen, Ali—”
“No, you listen,” Allison spat, tears now shimmering in her eyes. “I won’t play the victim, Travis. I won’t.”
At that moment Travis was struck by how much his sister, in her fierce and unreasoning determination, reminded him of their father. He shook his head, surprised he had never noticed the resemblance before.
“The only thing you can do for me now is to keep your mouth shut,” Allison continued, angrily palming away her tears. “Can you do that?”
“Ali, I …”
“Please, Travis.”
Not sure what to do, Travis thought carefully. Finally he folded his arms and sighed. “I think you’re making a big mistake, but if that’s what you want, I’ll go along,” he said. “For now, anyway.”
“Forever. Say it, Travis.”
“Not forever. But until you come to your senses—which you will—I’ll keep quiet.”
Allison briefly held Travis’s gaze, then resumed her vigil at the window.
Numbly, Travis moved to the door, thinking it had been a night for painful promises. He turned, struggling for words. “Ali, I’m so sorry about what happened to you. I wish I could—”
“Enough. We’re done talking. Get out of here.”
“Okay, I’m leaving.” Still, Travis hesitated. “If you ever, well … just don’t forget you have a family, and that we love you.”
Allison flung herself facedown on the bed. “I know, Trav,” she said, her voice muffled by her pillow. “Thanks. I mean it. Now get lost.”
20
Early Friday morning Travis punched his work card, beginning his last day on the job. Feeling a bittersweet pang of regret, he stepped from the construction trailer and stood for a moment, breathing in the cool ocean air. Then, shaking off his unexpected sense of nostalgia, he headed across the street to pick up his tools. He would be working that day with Pete Wilson, as he had for weeks, running door trim in one of the nearly completed houses.
Travis enjoyed working with the amiable older man, with whom he had formed an easygoing friendship over the past months. They worked together now as a smoothly functioning team—Travis pulling his share of the load and concurrently serving a time-honored apprenticeship in the techniques of woodworking. He had picked up a lot from Pete, a master carpenter, which gave him a gratifying sense of accomplishment. The assignment to Pete had also conferred another benefit—it had kept him away from Junior Cobb.
Since the affair on the scaffold Travis had avoided the surly youth as if his life depended on it. And it might, he thought grimly. Two weeks back Junior had “accidentally” dropped his hammer while working on one of the roofs, narrowly missing Travis as he’d passed beneath. A week later someone had cut partway through the underside of a 2x10 scaffold plank Travis had been using to span a gap on the second floor. Luckily Pete had spotted it, saving Travis a potentially dangerous fall.
Despite their father’s warning to let Travis fight his own battles, Tommy had confronted Junior after the second incident. Although Junior had denied everything, he’d subsequently restricted his animus to tormenting Travis verbally whenever he got the opportunity. “Move, pussy,” he would growl whenever he approached the younger boy, much to the amusement of his friends. Travis had reacted by giving Junior a wide berth, and so far he had been able to avoid an out-and-out fight.
“Last day, eh, kid?” said Pete, looking up from a stack of trim as Travis struggled in carrying the chop saw they would be using that morning. “Gonna come visit sometime?”
“Morning, Pete,” said Travis. Setting the heavy saw on the cutting table, he glanced with satisfaction around the wood-rich interior of the house. “Yeah, I might just do that. See how the place finishes out. What do you think it’ll take—another couple weeks?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Good. We’ll be back from our trip by then.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh. But Tommy and I will definitely stop by before he takes off for Arizona.”
“Do that. Meantime, let’s get to work. This stuff ain’t gonna nail itself up.” Pete scowled at a number of trim pieces he had been inspecting, then tossed them back onto the pile. “Which reminds me. Tell Wes we’re gonna need more wood. Half this stuff is crooked enough to run for Congress.”
The morning passed quickly, and at eleven-thirty Travis joined Tommy for lunch. Because the brothers now worked on different crews, they rarely ran into each other during the day but usually managed to get together during the midday break. As they ate, Travis noticed that his brother seemed strangely preoccupied. After wolfing down his customary burrito, Tommy made his way to the pay phone, finally returning just as lunch period ended. “You seen Tony?” he asked, glancing around the site. “I’ve gotta take off.”
“He’s in the trailer. What’s up?”
“I have to drive Christy somewhere.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t her mom do that?”
“She’s working.”
“Is Christy all right?”
“She’s fine. Look, I have go. Just tell Tony something came up. I probably won’t be back by quitting time, so catch a ride home with one of the guys.” Tommy turned and started for his car, adding, “Grab my paycheck for me too, okay?”
“Sure. But you’d better keep tonight open,” Travis called after him. “Remember what Dad said at dinner last week? I have a feeling he has something planned.”
“No problem, bro. See you at home.”
By the end of the day Travis had arranged to get a ride with Roland Grisham, who lived in Topanga and agreed to drop off Travis at the beach house on his way home. After returning the chop saw to the equipment shed and picking up his and Tom’s final paychecks, Travis waited as Roland began to load his tools into a lock bin on the back of his truck. Because it was Friday, most of the crew had skipped their habitual after-work bull session, but nearly everyone had taken the time to say goodbye to Travis—clapping him on the back and wishing him luck. Now, as he stood watching a steady stream of vehicles heading down the hill, Travis felt strangely depressed. With a shrug, he turned and started back through the project, deciding to take one brief, final tour.
At the bottom of the hill, Kane and Allison sat in the family Suburban, waiting for Tom and Travis. Impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Kane surveyed the dusty exodus of cars and trucks winding slowly past. “Where the hell are they?” he asked. “They better not have left.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just meet them back
at the house,” said Allison dully.
“I want to surprise ’em, that’s why,” said Kane. “Plus we’re going someplace directly from here. Now quit your bellyaching. We’ll give it a few more minutes. If they don’t show by then, we’ll drive up. Besides, it’s high time you got out of your room,” he added. “Do you good.”
“Dad, even if they are still there, I’ve only got a learner’s permit. I’m not old enough to drive Tom’s Tahoe home alone.”
“Don’t worry, cupcake. It’s only a couple miles. You’ll be back at the beach having dinner with your mom before you know it.”
“But—”
“Quit worrying, kid. If you get stopped, I’ll bail you out.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Allison with a sigh of exasperation. “You know, Pop, Tommy and Trav might already have plans for tonight.”
“Then they can change ’em. Tom’s not going to be around much longer. He and I are going to do some celebrating, whether he likes it or not. Travis too, of course.”
“Of course,” Allison noted dryly. “Tell me, Dad. What wonderful male-bonding activities do you have scheduled for tonight? Load up at the liquor store, then hit the nudie bars in Oxnard?”
“Nah,” said Kane. “Your mom wouldn’t approve of that.” Eager to get moving, he finally slammed the Suburban into gear. “Time to go find them. We’ve waited long enough.”
“So what is on tonight’s agenda?”
Kane smiled. “Have you seen the waves that have been rolling in since yesterday?” he asked, his voice rising a notch with excitement. “Five-to six-footers. We’re heading down to the beach right here at Paradise Cove, do a little bodysurfing, then use their outside showers, throw on some clean shorts, and grab some steaks at the Sand Castle restaurant. I even brought the guys a change of clothes.”
“Should be quite a night,” Allison observed without enthusiasm.
Kane topped the hill and pulled into a dirt parking lot near one of the houses. “I still don’t see Tom’s car,” he said, looking disappointed. He twisted off the engine. “C’mon, let’s go find out where he went.”
“I’ll stay here, Dad.”
“Suit yourself.”
Allison watched as Kane crossed the dirt lot. A moment later she saw him stop to talk with a man she recognized from the party. Before long Kane and his friend had their heads stuck under the hood of a customized Ford pickup. Hot, bored, and realizing that her father would probably be gone longer than expected, Allison stepped from the Suburban and started toward the edge of the bluff, hoping to catch a breeze from the ocean. Partway there she passed a small knot of men gathered by the construction trailer.
“Lookin’ for someone, miss?” one of the younger men in the group asked politely.
“Actually, I am,” Allison replied, disarmed by the worker’s pleasant demeanor. “I’m trying to find my brothers, Tom and Trav. Tall guys—red hair, brown noses. Seen them around?”
“I haven’t seen Tommy lately, but Trav’s here somewhere,” the man answered with a smile. “Hey, anyone know where Travis is?” he called out.
“Who wants to know?”
Allison turned to see a huge, muscular youth with a pimply face and stringy blond hair stepping from a cul-de-sac formed by the equipment shed and a metal Dumpster beside the trailer. Two men followed him out. One was holding the smoldering remnant of a hand-rolled cigarette. Allison smelled the sickly sweet odor of marijuana.
“This is Kane’s sister, Junior. She’s lookin’ for her brothers,” the first worker answered. He stepped aside as Junior, suddenly interested, bulled his way through the group.
“She is, huh?” Junior stopped in front of Allison, crowding in just a little too close. Allison retreated. Junior moved closer, reaching out to feel her hair, running it between his fingers as though he were examining a piece of cloth.
“This red shit makes your brothers look like a couple of fags, but I go for it on you,” he said. With a malicious grin, he dropped his hand and cupped his crotch. “Speakin’ of redheads, I know one that might just like to make your acquaintance.”
Allison backed away, a cold trickle building under her arms.
“Aw, don’t go, Red,” laughed Junior, taken with his own cleverness. He grabbed her arm. “We’re just gettin’ to know each other.”
The men standing by the trailer shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, Junior, why don’t you take it easy,” suggested the soft-spoken young man who had greeted Allison earlier. “Leave her alone.”
“You gonna make me, Roland?”
Roland spread his hands. “Come on, Junior—”
“’Cause if you ain’t, shut the fuck up. Red and me just having a little fun. Right, honey?”
As Allison started to answer, she saw Travis rounding the corner, making his way back from his final survey of the job site. Quickly assessing the situation, Travis hurried over. “Knock it off, Cobb,” he ordered.
“Well, well. Baby brother to the rescue, eh?” Junior released Allison and regarded Travis with a mix of menace and surprise. “Didn’t think you had it in you, pussy.”
“Allison, get out of here,” Travis said quietly. Although he and Allison hadn’t resolved the issues raised between them that night in Allison’s room, since then their relationship had changed in ways neither as yet completely understood. Nevertheless, after what had happened to Allison, Travis knew one thing for certain: Despite his fear, he couldn’t let Junior bully his sister. No matter what.
“Yeah, go on,” said Junior. Smiling coldly, he shoved Travis, sending him stumbling toward the cul-de-sac beside the trailer. “Your fag brother and me have some unfinished business.”
Allison turned and ran. “I’ll get Dad,” she yelled.
“No!” Travis called after her.
“That’s right. He’d rather have his mommy.” Junior shoved Travis again, this time sending him sprawling to the ground. “This how you defend your little sister, pussy? On your back?”
“Screw you,” Travis groaned, scrambling to his knees.
“Screw me?” Junior snorted. Taking careful aim, he smashed his heavy work boot into Travis’s back. “You’d like to, wouldn’t you, faggot?”
Travis scrabbled away on his hands and knees, narrowly avoiding a second kick. As he rose, he realized Junior had him trapped in the alcove.
Junior moved forward, bracing Travis against a stack of lumber with his forearm. “Maybe you don’t really want to screw me,” he said, spraying spittle as he spoke. He glanced at the men behind him, then back at Travis. “Maybe I got that wrong. Maybe you just want to suck my dick. Say it, pussy. Say you want to suck my dick.”
“No.”
Junior backhanded Travis across the face. His high-school ring opened a cut on Travis’s cheek. “Say it.”
“No.”
As Junior drew back for another blow, a heavy hand descended on his shoulder, spinning him around. “What’s going on here?”
Junior’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the man who’d grabbed him. He took in the suit coat and tie, the black wing-tip shoes, and the thick, unruly shock of red hair. Unfortunately for Junior, he missed the white-hot glint of anger in the man’s eyes.
“I’d take that hand off, ’less you want to lose it,” Junior warned.
“Is that right? Okay, no problem.” Kane thrust his hands into his pockets. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Junior smiled as his two pot-smoking friends moved to stand beside him. “Sure,” he said, glancing at Kane’s hair. ‘By the way, old-timer, it’s sure easy to see where your kids get their shitty looks.”
“Dad, let’s just leave,” Travis begged, attempting to push past Junior.
“You ain’t going’ nowhere,” Junior growled, blocking his way. “We’ve still got a few things to settle.”
Kane stared at Junior. “I asked you something,” he said. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Back off, gramps,” said Junior. “What’s goin’ on here is I’m
teachin’ your chickenshit kid he can’t hide behind his big brother forever. He’s been beggin’ for trouble all summer. Now he’s gonna get it. Unless, of course, he’d rather apologize to me by way of suckin’ my dick,” he added with a smirk.
“Shut up, Junior,” said Travis.
Kane glared at his son. “Is this true? Have you been dodging a fight with this turd?”
“Dad, nothing happened,” said Allison, tugging at her father’s arm. “Please, let’s just leave.”
Kane shook off her hand. “Is what he said true?”
Travis glanced at Junior, then back at his father. “I, uh …”
“I want an answer, Travis.”
Travis shrugged. “I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
Travis straightened. “Yes, sir. It’s true.”
Kane’s expression tightened. “Are you going to let this asshole push you around?”
“Dad, I—”
“He’s begging to get his ass kicked. What are you going to do about it?”
“Fuck off, old man,” Junior ordered, emboldened by the presence of his two friends. Then, to Travis, “This is between you and me, faggot. Or are you going to hide behind your daddy now that Tom’s not around?”
Travis felt his father’s eyes burning into him.
“Maybe I should whip your old man’s ass first,” Junior continued, placing his knuckles on Travis’s chest and giving him a hard shove, pushing him back into the alcove. “What’s it gonna be?”
Silence gripped the onlookers.
“Yeah, Travis,” said Kane softly. “What’s it going to be?”
Junior smiled, pleased with the unexpected turn of events. “Yeah,” he said. “Show your old man what you’ve got. Tell you what—I’ll even give you the first shot. Hell, I’ll even keep one hand behind my back.”
Travis met his father’s stare. Finally, with a look of resignation, he closed his fists and raised his hands.
Grinning, Junior circled in, one hand behind his back. Travis feinted and threw his left, unexpectedly connecting with a short jab. A low snarl ripped from Junior’s throat. His promise of keeping one hand at bay forgotten, he stormed forward, descending on the younger boy with a whirlwind of blows. Seconds later Travis lay at Junior’s feet, blood gushing from his nose.