His dad worked as a financier for Hollywood movies. He was rarely at home as he was busy kowtowing with the moguls, producers and directors. Occasionally they came home for parties. He hated meeting them. His dad’s circle included people with perfect teeth and false smiles. They all looked awesome because they had gone through botox treatments, liposuctions and the whole raft of plastic surgery procedures. Now that he thought about it, the 3D wall panels were appropriate given that his dad worked in a place where fiction (bullshit) walked and money talked. He sometimes had the surreal feeling that he lived in a movie fantasy land.
As his dad grew richer, Byron became lonelier.
That particular afternoon, the 16 year old had a shocking moment of revelation when he looked in the mirror and was confronted by his almost cherubic face with the flawless eyes, mouth and nose that looked like it was designed by a clever software program. His face which uncannily resembled his dad’s handsome features seemed like some of the movie people that his dad kowtowed to; like it had been created in the same factory! It had a fake status symbol feel to it and he was unsettled that his dad always showed him off to the guests before he went back into his room.
He was also uneasy that Quentin was often looking admiringly at him and using every opportunity to try and befriend him. He didn’t want to give the impression of over reacting to a perhaps harmless approach for friendship. Given the personal issues he was going through, he hoped that Quentin would give him some space.
He was still forming his self identity and was unconsciously trying to remove traces of pretensions. His face resembled the kind of uncaring bullshit that his dad represented. To make things worse, he was hardly there for him. After the ‘show and tell’ with the guests, he ignored him.
He was always reminding Byron that many teens would be happy to be in his place as he had everything he wanted. But he didn’t care if millions of them would have given away a limb to get what he had. The home had a swimming pool, a gaming room, a shooting range, transparent TVs, piped music gadgets, motion sensing lights and other advanced home techs. He had the latest Iphone and every cool teen gadget that was available on the market.
Once he had pleaded; “Dad can I see you more often and can you work out something with mum? I’d give up everything in this house to see you get back together.”
His father had looked at him sadly but had left him thinking deeply about how the divorce was affecting his only son.
Byron wasn’t happy with his face looking back snottily from the mirror. He had been holding back his anger, bitterness, loneliness and sadness. It was all compressed inside him and was ready to erupt.
Lately he had taken to improving his shooting skills. His dad made sure he fired blanks. Somehow he had gotten his hands on real bullets and had started shooting small colorful objects and the occasional stray cat. This new hobby had alarmed the house staff. Juanita had talked to his dad. She had also talked to Byron and had confided that she knew how he felt and was saying the rosary for him to our ‘Lady of Perpetual Help’. Byron had hugged her and this had greatly pleased the matronly woman. In her own fumbling way, she was acting like a mother to him. He promised her not to shoot anymore stray animals.
He looked at his handsome features in the mirror and was filled with an overwhelming hatred for what it represented.
He felt unloved. He took a chair and smashed the mirror. He was pleased to see his face looking back at him like a jigsaw puzzle shaped in sharp jagged pieces.
In a moment of recklessness he put on a Lakers vest and jeans and went to the small park not far from his home with a bottle of Johnny Walker in a brown paper bag.
He sat for a long time on the bench unconsciously taking generous swigs of the whisky. For some strange reason, he started seeing Natalie smiling. He wondered what s/he would be like if they had a baby. The thought embarrassed him and he wondered if he had excess hormones that were making him frisky. If whisky inspired these images, he thought he might be better off sticking to ginger ale. The baby started screaming and he put his hands to his ears. His greatest wish before he lapsed into unconsciousness was for the earth to swallow him.
It was getting late and a kindly Latino man passing by felt sorry and also worried for the teen with the gentle troubled face and called the Police.
Gradually a Police Car came by and took him.
In his lucid dream state, he felt as if the siren from other police vehicles was in competition with other sounds like the screeching of tires, the blaring of horns and the screams of frustrated teens. He felt in his pocket for his handgun and was faintly thankful it was not with him.
The Officer took him as gently as possible into the Station.
As his eyes adjusted to the lights, he was pleasantly shocked to see Natalie sitting in the reception area waiting for her mum. He was going to make a joke about how they must have planned this but thought better of it. The joke if he had said it would have sounded sick.
The Officer seemed to have forgotten him almost immediately after bringing him in on catching the eyes of the Sergeant at the main counter. There appeared to be more urgent matters he needed to look into and a boy taking a few swigs of whisky on a park bench was the lesser problem in a precinct station constantly flooded with a barrage of new cases that seemed to come in an endless cycle.
Byron knew Natalie as they were both sophomores at Tracey High School.
They sat together and Byron told her the events of his afternoon.
He was too polite to ask her why she was there. Without meaning to, she burst into tears.
Byron held her tenderly, comforting her. It was at this moment that he had another revelation. He felt he was selfish. Out there in the world, people seemed to be facing bigger problems than he did and he felt embarrassed that he seemed self centered. He also discovered something pleasant. It was a great feeling holding her. He hoped she’d be his friend after she left Russ. Her gentle and calm nature acted as a tonic for him. It helped stabilize his erratic personality.
She told him the entire story.
“I think you’ve been too kind to Russ. Enough is enough and we have to confront him. Otherwise it’ll get worse,” he paused and then looked into her eyes. “You Kristen Stewart will have to come to a decision. Your “Breaking Dawn’ moment will come when he arrives like clockwork to bring you to school.”
Natalie made a sound like cynical laugher.
“You will also need to report his assault. That’s totally unacceptable.”
Natalie hugged Byron again. She regretted that her perception of him was of a brother always looking out for her. If she could get out of that perception, they could probably develop a friendship, post-Russ.
“While I still have your attention, I think you should also make time to talk to Quentin now and then. He’s a very interesting guy.”
“But I’m not gay or bisexual,” Byron chided her gently.
“Being nice to Quentin has nothing to do with sexuality. We all know he has gay parents but that doesn’t mean guys should feel uneasy with him.” Her tone was friendly but there was a subtle edge to it. “What makes you think he’s gay?”
That was a cryptic question and Natalie seemed to know more than she was showing. He realized that she talked a lot to Quentin and it would probably help his case if he played along. “Okay, I don’t have any issues with that. Can I see you more often after the smoke has cleared?”
“After Russ?”
“Yes.”
“Let me think about it. I might want some space to think through my life.”
“I don’t want to get in the way.”
“I’ll be very honest with you if I feel it won’t work out.”
“I like honesty,” he lied. In truth he was not sure if he could take it well if he was rejected.
Quentin’s name had come up again and Byron couldn’t help feeling queasy. He wanted to be friendly with everyone but was wary of being typecast as being goofy and cuddly. The last thing he wa
nted was for facebook and twitter wags to start a firestorm of excited posts and chatter about him. But if she liked Quentin and wanted him to be friendly, he’d go along with it because the one thing he wanted in the world was not the latest tech gadget. He wanted Natalie; all of her.
It was in this friendly pose that Matt found them when he was eventually brought into the Station for driving above the speed limit.
As he was brought to the Counter he saw two teens of about his age, 16. The boy gave the impression of someone who had everything but seemed to miss something really terribly He wondered what they had done. The girl he was holding almost with brotherly affection was very attractive and had intelligent eyes tinged with bitterness. They looked liked birds plucked from the same nest because they seemed to mirror each other’s problems. Her tears seemed to give her added aura. It reminded him of his own tears sometimes at night when he cried himself to sleep thinking of his dad who did not care for him. He sensed that this girl was a fighter. She had her own personal struggles but was resilient enough to come out of her dark shadows and find dignity in striving for her best.
He had an overpowering desire to befriend her. “She’s just my kind of girl,” he thought to himself with a confident smile. She needed him to complement his sagging spirit and to affirm to him that one could find meaning in a better life. “She’s going to be good for me.” A tonic to help him overcome his challenges.
His biggest challenge however was how he was going to talk to her and also ensure that he did not antagonize the teen she was with. He looked quite possessive!
Chapter 3: Matt
Matt was a newcomer to Santa Monica, LA. He remembered his mum as a short chubby attractive woman with intense eyes. She died when he was 14 years old. His father a popular doctor with a very busy practice was too busy to look after him. In fact his birth had been an accident. He had not wanted children. He remembered his parents having a fight when he was a child because he wanted to send him to boarding school and she had resisted. He mixed in high society and loved the glamour of parties and hobnobbing with the rich and socially connected. Children were a hindrance to his social climbing strategies. They “are not needed in our lives,” he had said in an unguarded moment. This child “was an accident,” he had said coldly. With the death of his mum, Matt had been sent to boarding school. It hadn’t worked out well and as a last resort he had been sent to his maternal grandparents in LA. He had just been enrolled into Tracey High. His dad sent him money to buy most things he wanted. His only condition was that he was not seen or heard in his life. He was just to busy and there was so much money to make.
His grand dad stood over him in the dark. He knew that Matt had been crying in his bedroom. The moonlit night showed a boy so much in pain.
“You must let go son,” he said.
“He never loved me,” Matt said bitterly
“The world can be a cruel place,” he said gently. “But there are always good people everywhere who care.”
.”He said my birth was an accident.”
“It was a terrible thing to say. But your birth was not an accident,” his grand dad said fiercely. “You were born with a purpose in life. Never forget that Matt.”
Matt got up and faced the window, “I hate him! I hate him!” he shouted.
“No Matt, don’t say it.”
“I wish he’d rot with his money!” He held on to him and burst into tears.
“You must forgive your dad.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re young Matt. But you must gradually let go. ”
“I’ll try.”
“It’s for your own good. Hate and bitterness is never good for the heart. It eats into you like a cancer. Let go and move on with your life. We love you very much, Matt. God sent you to us. And never forget that you’re unique and have a lot of great qualities.”
Matt felt much better.
“Your mum was a great woman and he would have loved for you to be happy.”
Matt was so thankful that he had come to stay with them. They were so kind and in their own way had become the family he never had.
He had been getting into a lot of trouble in Indiana, especially his penchant for driving at breakneck speed. (Matt had a Warrior Y motorbike and a Nissan 370z.) He did this because he was starved for the attention that he desperately wanted his dad to give him. He was unwilling to provide this and as far as he was concerned Matt was a wayward ungrateful son who was complicating his immense professional reputation.
His grand dad, Stan, had been an ex Marine and his grandmother Ruth had worked as a nurse. They were kind folks who doted on him and showered him with the love he had never received from his high flying dad. They understood that he had had an unhappy childhood and it would take time for him to process his painful life. They were however determined to bring him up in a healthy way so he could become a well adjusted motivated teen. Marines who went on missions never gave up on their targets easily, Stan said. With Matt they’d work to help him process his issues even if they had to die trying.
They understood that from time to time he’d need to go for a fast spin. But they always warned him in a firm and friendly way not to drink or drive over the speed limit.
However, exorcising his dad’s shadows took a bit longer than usual. Matt forgot that in this highly techno enhanced state with roving drones, CCTV, helicopters and other forms of surveillance, driving recklessly was bound to get noticed sooner rather than later.
In a moment of gay abandon he had driven at breakneck speed through the freeway. A Police car zoomed after him.
He was bought to the Station.
Chapter 4: The Precinct Police Station
Matt was bought to the counter where the Duty Sergeant looked inquiringly at the Officer who bought him in.
“Driving excessively over the speed limit. Probably thought he was driving in the Grand Prix. Lucky for him he was not drunk.”
“Live fast. Die young,” the Sergeant said.
“James Dean,” Matt said.
The Officer glared at Matt, “You think you’re smart.”
“They’re all like that. Drink hard, have sex with girls in tights, drive fast and die a legend,” the Sergeant said wearily.
“I don’t drink and I don’t do that stuff.” People seemed to assume by the way he looked and dressed that he was flirty, that he was a hard drinker and was a serial sex dater. He hated these assumptions especially from adults, especially his dad.
“James Dean,” the Duty Sergeant and the Officer said almost in unison, in derision.
“Rebel with a cause.”
“You think you’re smart,” the Officer said sarcastically.
After the processing, he was brought back to the bench where Natalie and Byron sat.
Remaining standing, he took out his Iphone and fiddled with it. The music group Cover Drive’s hit song Twilight came on. They both almost literally jumped. Quickly Matt put on his ear phones.
The song was a favorite of Russ!
Matt noticed that she had since recovered and they were exchanging pleasantries.
He was attired in a Lakers vest and seemed very cold. He was trying very hard to control his shivering.
“I demand my rights!” a middle aged drunkard screamed as he was brought in struggling by two officers. “I want to speak to Mitt Romney.” He kept screaming in this vein.
“Calm down,” one of the officers said unsuccessfully. With what seemed like dry humor he said, “Mitt is busy. I’m sure he’ll want to meet you later.”
Above the commotion, Matt did not hear Natalie talking to him.
“Please sit down,” she said gently.
He smiled awkwardly as Byron regarded him distrustfully.
“Drove too fast on the freeway. I’m from Indiana. Just moved here recently. Am with my grandparents.”
“You found a school yet?”
“Tracey High.”
“You’re joking,” Natalie said pleasantly.
Byron looked up in surprise for the first time, “Coincidence.”
“Small town huh?”
Byron looked suspiciously at Matt and then smiled uneasily.
Natalie and Matt exchanged pleasantries. “We’ll give you our numbers in case you need directions or something.”
He couldn’t believe his good fortune. It was as if he was dreaming. “I’d like that very much.”
An officer came up to Natalie and eyed Matt suspiciously. “You seem to get around fast,” he said in an amused tone.
“I don’t get around,” Matt retorted.
“Now don’t give me that tone. Can’t you take a joke?” he asked still looking amused.
He had a file and also a tablet which he consulted quickly.
“Natalie, is it?” Without waiting for a reply he motioned her to a glass cubicle.”Your mum is on her way.”
“Will be with you in a jiffy,” a female officer shouted to them.
Byron continued to shiver. He walked slowly to the bathroom.
After hesitating for a moment, Matt who was in a sweater followed him.
+++++
“You looked dazed when we saw you,”
“And that neighborhood is quite dangerous,” the female officer chimed in.
“What happened?”
“He left us,” she said in a flat tone. ”I was lost.”
Trouble Page 2