“Do the best you can,” Marge told him.
“I thought I could ride it out, but after a year of it, I had enough. My mom wanted to go to the administration, but I put my foot down. We still live in the area.”
“What’d they do to you?”
“It’s not the physical stuff.” Kevin looked up. “I mean they knock you around and everything, but that wasn’t the bad part. It was the constant harassment.”
“Joey Reinhart called it crowding.” Decker took out his notepad.
“Yeah, they’d crowd you in school—the girls were worse than the guys because the girls would do things and when you’d, like, respond, they laughed at you, you know.”
Marge took out a notebook. “If it’s not too much for you, could you go into detail?”
“Well, they’d like grope you and try to get you . . . you know, aroused and then if you did react, they’d laugh and call you names . . .” He buried his red face in his hands. “Even so, I thought I could handle that. It’s when they started crowding you out of school, it became a little scary. No one was around to help, you know?”
“What’d they do?”
“They’d surround you . . . like a pack of wolves. The last straw was when one of them pulled a gun on me and stuck it into my balls. I . . .” Kevin bit his lip. “I pissed in my pants. I knew after that I was never going back.”
“Who was the kid?” Decker asked.
“I don’t even remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
Kevin said, “I remember which dudes crowded me, but I don’t remember who stuck the gun in my crotch. I blocked it out.”
“Who was in the group?” Decker said.
“Like names?”
“Like names.”
“You know if you started to question them, I’d deny it.”
Decker said, “I suppose if I were gung-ho enough, I could go into the school and start pulling out guys and start questioning them, because what you’ve described is aggravated assault. But I’m not going to do that because the incident happened months ago and you’re not going to be reliable. But I do want some names for my files. So give me names.”
Kevin said, “It’s like a whole stratified thing with the don at the top doing orders and his capos, like, carrying them out.”
“Kevin,” Decker said. “Who was there when the gun was pulled?”
Kevin looked at the ceiling. “I remember Kyle Kerkin was there.”
“Who else?” Marge said. “Give us some names.”
“Stance O’Brien, Nate Asaroff, JJ Little, Jarrod Lovelace—that’s the core group of capos. The don is a guy named Dylan Lashay. But he wasn’t there that day.”
“The don?” Marge said. “Capos. Do these boys fashion themselves after the Mafia?”
“Yeah.” Kevin nodded. “The B and W Mafia.”
“Great,” Decker said. “Tell me about Dylan Lashay, the leader.”
“I think he got in early decision to Yale.”
“Well, that’s just super,” Decker said.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Kevin said. “He’s got all the stats, you know. The high SAT, all the extracurriculars. He’s captain of model UN, captain of the football team, he directs all the school plays, he’s got all the girls; and if life isn’t fair enough, he’s really rich. His stepdad is, like, head of an oil company. He’s got everything that every kid wants, so he has to find different ways to get his kicks.”
“Does the school know about him and his posse?”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Dylan’s the poster boy for B and W.”
“So why do you think the group singled you out?” Marge asked him.
“I dunno. I mean, I tried to keep a low profile . . . we all did—Greg and Joey and Mikey and Brandon and Josh and Beezel. But I was the one with the target on my butt.” He appeared thoughtful. “Greg tutored some of the guys. I think that bought him a pass.”
“Did he tutor Dylan?”
“Dylan was pretty smart. I wouldn’t think he’d need much tutoring. Anyway, this is all beside the point.”
“Why’s that?” Marge asked.
“Because that’s not why I called you guys back.” A pause. “Is it okay that I called you, you guys?”
“It’s fine, Kevin,” Marge said. “What do you want to tell us?”
“Greg kept in touch . . . he’d call me every couple of weeks to find out how I was doing. Anyway, about two months ago, he called me up, like, all excited.”
Marge said, “About what?”
Kevin leaned forward. “This is the deal. Last year, Greg and I were in Journalism with Mr. Hinton. He was kind of a boring teacher, but he’s also administrative head of the school paper. Mr. Hinton was really hot on investigative journalism. He told us a great detail about the Nixon years and Woodward and Bernstein and a guy named Sore Throat and . . . Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“We do,” Marge said. “It’s Deep Throat.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Anyway, Mr. Hinton bored me to tears, but that whole thing got Greg very excited. I thought he was gonna work on the paper. But when I asked him about it at the beginning of the year, he said he wasn’t interested. Then I transferred out because tenth grade was becoming a repeat of ninth grade, only worse. So I was real surprised when Greg called me up and said that he had some news that was going to turn B and W on top of its head.”
“Go on,” Decker encouraged him.
“So I asked him what the news was, and Greg said he couldn’t tell me. And then he said not to tell anyone, not even Joey Reinhart who is his best friend. And the only reason he told me is because I’m not in the school anymore.”
Marge and Decker waited for Kevin to continue. After a few moments of silence, the boy got to the point. He said, “The next time I talked to Greg, I asked about the big story again. And he said he still couldn’t talk about it. But he definitely sounded less excited than the first time, like things weren’t going so well. And I asked him if he was okay, and he said he was great. But something was off. So I tried to press him, but he kept insisting that he was great, only he was working hard and a lot more tired than usual.”
He stopped talking.
“That’s it.”
“He never told you any more?” Marge asked.
“Nope. I don’t know anything more than what I just told you. But I thought I’d tell you because you never know what’s important. So . . . that’s it.”
Decker said, “He didn’t give you any idea as to what he was working on?”
“Nope. I’d tell you if I knew.”
Marge said, “Do you know if he was working on the story with anyone else?”
“It never got that far.” The boy looked at his watch. “My mom’s gonna be home soon. I’d appreciate it if you, like . . .”
Decker stood. Both he and Marge gave Kevin their cards. “If you think of anything else, feel free to call.”
“I will.” Kevin stood up and opened the door. “It’s not so hard to understand . . . what Greg did. There were times back in B and W when I thought about doing the exact same thing. All I can say is I’m happy that I didn’t have a gun close by.”
They decided to meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays at six in the morning since Gabe had to wake up early anyway to catch the bus to SC.
Monday for him was torture. They texted each other about a billion times.
Tuesday turned out to be just as torturous but in a different way. They met for coffee and they talked, which was nice and all that, but they couldn’t be physical except maybe hold hands under the table and give each other’s leg a quick squeeze. So the space between them, although inches in reality, felt like miles. After she left for school, Gabe felt frustrated and aroused and had to sit on the damn bus for an hour plus with all the other L.A. castoffs.
His lessons went well. Nick commented on it . . . that he was playing with more passion. He also told Gabe that it was time for him to start playing gigs.
I arranged for someone to come he
ar you. You’ve got to start soon. You’re not that young anymore.
A has-been by fifteen.
Who’s the guy?
A very well-known agent. He deals with all the summer chamber music festivals. That’s as good a start as any to get your feet wet. He’ll be here on Thursday. I want you at the university by eight in the morning, well fed and well rested. Got it?
Got it.
He came home at six in the afternoon, hungry and pissed. There was nothing in the fridge. Rina came into the kitchen and saw him foraging in the cupboards.
“There’s not a whole lot to eat,” she told him.
“I can see that.”
Rina said, “I’m meeting Peter at the deli. Want to come?”
“I’m tired,” Gabe told her.
“I’ll bring you something home.”
“I’m tired but I’m hungry.” Gabe thought a moment. “Can I drive?”
“If you’re not too tired, yes.”
“Can we take the Porsche?”
“No.”
Gabe made a face. “Okay. I’ll come. I’m starved.”
“Let’s go.” She picked up her purse and extracted the keys. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Like ten in the morning.”
“The last time the lieutenant ate was at six in the morning,” Rina told him. “Dealing with two hungry males is not my idea of a good time.”
“I’ll try to behave myself.”
“I hold no great hope for either of you.” She tossed him the keys. “But . . . at least you’re both good-looking.”
Chapter Twelve
The key to hungry males was getting them fed as quickly as possible. So Rina was really in a bind when they walked inside the deli and Sohala Nourmand waved to her. Should she go over and make pleasantries for a few minutes, or should she wave back and risk being thought of as unfriendly?
Of course, Rina had to come to the table and say hello. Sage had been in Hannah’s class, and the two of them were friends. Plus, Daisy and Yasmine were students at the high school.
“Don’t do it,” Decker growled out a whisper. “I’m starved.”
“Just for a moment.” She tossed him a look that said, Be nice or there will be consequences. Then she went over to Sohala with a smile on her face.
Gabe had turned away, burying his face in a hand, hoping to keep his panic under control. Peter mistook his alarm as crankiness because he was grumpy himself. He threw his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Just be very sure that you’re in love before you get married.”
Rina looked around. Peter and Gabe were in tow, her husband barely concealing his petulance. That was okay. Bakshar, the pater of the Nourmand clan, didn’t look too happy, either.
Rina gave Sohala a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful as always.”
“And you are gorgeous as well,” Sohala answered.
There were four Nourmand girls, each one as pretty as the next. Bakshar was considerably older than Sohala, always with a stern expression on his face. It couldn’t be easy raising four daughters. Rina turned to Rosemary, the oldest, noticing the rock on her finger. “So when’s the big day?”
“August second.”
Sohala said, “When Aaron finishes his residency.” Rosemary gave her a stern look that her mother ignored. “In dermatology.”
Rina smiled and said, “Congratulations, Rosie.”
“Thank you.”
Sage asked, “So how’s Hannah?”
“Loving Israel.”
“Of course.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I’m in Pierce College.”
“That’s great.”
Sage shrugged. “It’s school.” She looked up at Gabe. “Congratulations to you.”
Gabe had been hiding behind Peter. “Me?”
“You got into Harvard, no?”
Yasmine gave him a quick glance that he didn’t dare interpret before returning her eyes to her soup. Gabe knew he was blushing. “Uh, how’d you know about that?”
“Hannah posted it on Facebook.”
The teen looked pleadingly at Rina, who said, “I’ll have her take it down.”
“Why?” Sohala said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should be very proud.”
With his heart going a mile a minute, Gabe was desperately trying to maintain composure. He shuffled his feet, feeling like a dork. “Uh . . . I kinda got in by cheating.”
Why the fuck did he say that?
“Cheating?” Bakshar said.
“Uh, not really cheating, cheating.” His face was hot. “I mean my scores were good, but I got in because I play the piano.”
The father perked up. “Yasmine play piano.”
“No, Daddy,” Daisy, the sixteen-year-old, said. “He really plays the piano.”
Yasmine’s face darkened. Poor girl, Rina thought. Sohala and her girls were a happy lot, usually smiling . . . except for the youngest. Yasmine carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Sage said, “Daddy, he played for graduation, remember?”
“Ah . . . yes.” The father looked at Gabe with newfound respect. “You were very good.”
“Thank you,” Gabe said. Can I go home and die now?
Rosemary said, “Yasmini, when you go to college, you should send them a CD of your voice.” She looked at Gabe. “The admissions board likes stuff like that, right?”
His eyes scanned Yasmine’s face for an explanation, but her focus was still on her soup. “Sure,” he answered. “Yeah, they like it a lot.”
“Yasmini has a beautiful voice,” Rosemary explained.
Sage said, “At least someone got Mommy’s talent.”
Daisy said, “Yeah, you can always tell when Yasmine is home. You can hear her down the block. What’s that new aria you’re always singing?”
Gabe regarded his love interest with new eyes. “You sing opera?”
“No,” she said without looking up.
“What’s the name of the aria again?” Daisy asked. “The latest one. She sings a lot of them. She’s got this whole repertoire and goes from one to the other to the other to the other.”
Yasmine had turned a strange color of red and brown—like finely polished mahogany. She kept her eyes on the table. Sohala patted her daughter’s arm. “I like it when she sings.”
Rosemary said, “You really should send in a CD, Yasmini. Who your age sings opera? It’s different. It’ll attract attention.”
“Yasmine doesn’t need singing to get into college,” the father said with finality. “She’s got brains. She’s going to be a doctor.”
Decker had had enough chitchat. “Rina, we need to sit down or we won’t get a table.”
Sohala said, “You want to join us?”
Gabe’s heart went into overdrive.
Rina said, “Thank you, but I’m afraid I have to tend to the boys or we’ll all be in trouble. Nice seeing you all. Enjoy your meal.”
Sage said, “Tell Hannah I say hello. Is she coming in for Passover?”
“Absolutely,” Rina said.
“I’ll give her a call.”
Decker took his wife’s arm. “Have a good dinner.” He led her to the single unoccupied table. The rest of the place had filled up with diners. Menus were already on the table, and Gabe conveniently hid his face, pretending to peruse his options. His stomach was rumbling from hunger, but he had to calm down before he could digest anything.
“I understand that you have to be nice,” Decker said to Rina. “But you don’t need to carry on a lengthy dialogue when you know I’m starving.”
“Are you getting an appetizer?” Rina asked him.
“So just ignore me,” he said.
“How about soup?”
“I’m getting chopped liver,” Decker grumped.
“I’ll get cabbage soup. We can share.” She turned to Gabe. “Do you want an appetizer?”
I wanna get out of here. The menu was still in front of his face.
“I’ll have meatballs.”
“Maybe I’ll get meatballs, too,” Decker said.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Rina said.
“Aren’t you perky?”
“Someone has to be,” Rina told him. “And don’t give me those looks. At least I said no when she asked us to sit with them.”
“Under penalty of death.”
Rina said, “Peter, I understand your position. But truly, you need to eat before you say another word, okay?”
“Got it.”
“You, too,” Rina said to Gabe. “You’re looking very pale.” The waitress came over and brought pickles and bread. “Let’s wash.”
Decker sneered, got up from the table, and ritually washed his hands. Then he said the blessing over the bread before diving into the basket. Everyone ordered and five minutes later, the appetizers came, which the boys wolfed down. Gabe didn’t taste much. In truth, he didn’t even know what he was eating.
To Gabe, Rina said, “Sorry about Hannah posting your private life.”
“It’s okay.” He was more rattled than he’d been before any competition. “I just don’t like the attention. I mean I don’t dislike attention . . . I wouldn’t perform if I disliked attention. So sometimes I like attention. But some attention is better than other attention . . .” He knew he was rambling. Make a point, Gabe. “I’m auditioning for an agent on Thursday.”
“Really,” Decker said.
“That’s exciting,” Rina said.
“Yeah, my teacher set me up with this hotshot guy who staffs all the summer chamber music festivals. I’m hoping to pull a few slots on some of the lesser vetted programs. I think it would be fun.”
“So that means you’ll get paid to perform?” Decker said.
“Yeah, I guess,” Gabe said.
“Good deal.”
The sandwiches came. At that point, the Nourmand family got up from their table. Sohala waved good-bye and Rina waved back.
A smile formed on Decker’s lips. To Gabe, he said, “She likes you, you know.”
The boy felt his face go hot. “What?”
Decker turned to Rina. “Which one of the girls was the wise guy who was making her little sister miserable?”
“Daisy,” Rina said. “She’s a junior, and she is a wise guy.”
Gun Games Page 10