Risen
Page 11
This is what I really am, I decide as I sop up the wet beer and blood and glass with my paper towels. Not Jay’s consigliere. Just a lowly maid, cleaning up other people’s messes.
The rest of the night I keep my head down and try to help cleaning up and keeping things organized. Jay and Candice go upstairs to his bedroom and leave the rest of us to clean. Nobody says much to me when I leave, but as I drive home afterward, I have the urge to just ignore the turn onto my street and instead keep driving and driving.
But I don’t.
***
On Monday everybody’s talking about the fight. When Leo and Nick walk by me in the hall without saying a word, I know it isn’t good.
Jay is nowhere to be found and I send him a text, pretending to be casual and say what’s up, but he doesn’t respond.
I’m in the computer lab during free period, working on the website, when Alec and Nick come strolling in. There’s a kid sitting next to me and Nick boots him.
“Adults need to talk. Get moving.”
The kid protests a little but shuts up when Nick glares at him.
“What’s going on?” I say, minimizing my word document and turning toward him.
Alec sits down on the other side of me. “Nothing much, just killing time,” Nick says. “You’re working pretty hard in here. Looking like a young Bill Gates.”
Alec laughs. “Or like that other nerd--Zuckerbergman.”
“Right. The Facebook dude. Why do all computer geeks look the same?”
“There’s someone else Richardson reminds me of…I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Alec says, picking up some of my index cards from the table and pretending to look through them.
Nick snaps his fingers. “I got it.”
“You do?” Alec says.
“Yeah. He kind of looks like Fredo, doesn’t he?”
“Shit. He does!”
I get a chill up my spine. Fredo is the weak, traitorous younger brother in The Godfather. He’s eventually murdered by Michael in The Godfather II.
I shake my head. “I need to get back to work.”
“Oh, do you, Fredo?” Nick says, leaning in. His breath is on my face. “You make sure to really do a good job on that man. We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your important work here.”
Alec grabs the back of my neck and squeezes until it hurts. “Thanks for getting our backs at the party, Fredo.” He overemphasizes the F sound in Fredo and spittle hits my cheek.
I don’t say a word.
They get up and leave the computer lab and I just sit there, my mind blank, stomach queasy with anxiety.
The rest of the day, I keep to myself. Jay never answers my texts (I send him another one later in the day), and I skip lunch.
***
The next day I convince my mom to let me stay home, telling her I don’t feel well. But the truth is I just can’t stand the thought of another day at school with everyone giving me the cold shoulder.
A little after one o’clock, I’m going downstairs to watch some TV and I hear a loud car engine that sounds like it’s heading up our driveway. I go to the front door and see Jay’s SUV coming to a rolling stop a few feet from the garage.
He gets out of his car and starts toward the door. I don’t think he’s seen me, and I contemplate hiding. But if he has somehow seen me, then he’ll realize I’m avoiding him.
Just before he gets up the front steps, I open the door.
Jay’s wearing an Abercrombie sweater and dark blue jeans, complemented by fresh, white and gold Nike sneakers. He looks at me skeptically. “Hiding out, Richardson?”
“No. Just sick.”
“Sure. Sick.”
“It’s true. I feel like shit.”
“The boys gave you some shit for not backing us up at the party?” he says.
“Whatever. I knew eventually it would turn out this way. Those guys hate me.”
Jay shakes his head. “Nobody hates you Richardson. Stop being such a whiny vag and take a look at this.”
He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone. After a few seconds he angles the screen towards me and I can see a grainy video playing on it.
“It’s hard to see on my phone but the video quality isn’t actually that bad,” he says. “If you play it on a normal computer monitor.”
I move forward and peer at it more closely. There’s also tinny sound coming from the phone’s speaker.
Suddenly I realize it’s video of the party. Specifically the fight during the party. I can make out Jay pummeling one of the kids and then the view shifts to Leo beating up his Uncle Dillon.
“Someone taped it?”
Jay gives me a sly grin. “Candice. That girl is one smart cookie.”
“You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to press record.”
He chuckles.
“What’s so funny about that?” I ask.
“You’re just cute when you get nervous, Richardson.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughs harder and then tapers off. “So, I’ve been doing some thinking about your problem,” he says, snapping his phone shut and turning abruptly serious.
“My problem?”
“Yeah, how you didn’t back us up during the fight.”
“You guys were handling everything okay on your own,” I say. “I was waiting to see if you needed reinforcements.”
My joke falls flat. Jay regards me coldly. “You need to make amends to the family, Richardson.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you do. And that starts now, with this video.”
“How so?”
“Well, I had a brilliant idea this morning in computer class. When you didn’t show up and Ms. Spreadwell started grilling me about our project, I made a bunch of shit up.”
I put my face in my hands. “Why’d you do that?”
“I had no choice. She was asking me all kinds of stuff and I couldn’t tell her I didn’t even work one second on the website. But anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is that as I was bullshitting old Spreadwell about our project, I realized that we can use it.”
“Use it how?”
“I want to post this video on the web so people can see what happens when they fuck with our crew.”
“If people see that video, you and Leo will probably end up arrested for assault.”
“Relax. You’ll make it password protected and fix that shit so nobody can download the video. Only select people will be allowed to watch it—but everyone will HEAR about it. And our rep will grow instantly.”
He starts to walk back to his car. “So get started on that pronto. Okay?”
“Hold on a second. I can’t just—“
Jay spins around and faces me, his face red, his expression enraged—like a switch has been flipped. “You do what I tell you to do, Richardson. You’re on thin ice as it is, and I’m giving you a chance to make it up to me. That fuckup at the party better be your first and last fuckup.”
“I just think that—“
“You’re going to put the video on the website like I said. Or we’re going to have a big problem on our hands. I mean, I like you Richardson. Don’t force me to make an example of you.”
His eyes bore into me and I realize that despite all our years of friendship, if I disobey him, Jay will hurt me.
“No worries,” I say. “It’s as good as done, man.”
“That’s what I thought.” And then he leaves.
***
The next day Jay calls everyone to Five Towns Pizza for a lunch meeting.
He wolfs down two pieces of pizza in record time without saying a word to anybody. Tension is in the air and once again no one is talking.
After finishing the last bite of his slice, Jay wipes his hands. “So, I wanna make something really clear to you guys.” He takes a napkin and dabs at his lips, then tosses it on his plate. “Richardson is second in command around here.”
I see Nick stiffen when Jay says this.
&n
bsp; Jay glances at everyone and notices Nick’s expression. “Anyone have a problem with what I just said?”
Nobody responds.
“Nick?” Jay asks.
“Nope.” But Nick can’t meet Jay’s eyes.
“You look like you’re pissed off about something.”
Nick looks directly at me. “You don’t even fight your own battles. What a pussy.
You go running right to daddy.”
“Wait just a minute,” Jay says. “Who the FUCK do you think you’re talking to?”
Nick’s shoulders hunch and his cheeks redden, but his eyes won’t meet Jay’s or mine anymore. “He’s got no balls. He shouldn’t even be our towel boy,” he mumbles.
Jay looks at Alec and Leo. “What about you guys? Do you two agree with him?”
I slump down in the booth and wish I could just disappear.
“Hell yes. Richardson’s weak,” Leo says.
Alec sighs. “It didn’t look good how he stood there while everyone else was in a fight. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, right?”
Jay seems to be considering what Alec says. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, it didn’t look too good.”
“Great,” I say. “So now you’re throwing me under the bus, too.”
“Hey, I’m sorry, Richardson,” Jay says, “but these guys have a point. I can’t make them respect and trust you if they don’t.”
I stare at the table. “Maybe Nick’s right, maybe I’m not cut out for this stuff.”
There’s a long moment of silence. Jay seems to be gathering his thoughts. “I need to think about this. We’ll come up with a solution that’s to everybody’s liking, I think. But I need a little time to consider how I want to do it.”
That’s about as clear as a mud puddle.
“For now, will you all agree to trust that I’m gonna find a good solution to the problem? Will you agree to trust me on this one?”
Nick and Leo and Alec all nod, reluctantly.
I just stare at my half-eaten pizza.
“Good.” Jay sits back. “And now, onto important family business.” He takes a quick sip of soda, continues. “You all accused me of not having any real plans for us, and I took that shit to heart. Because I do have plans. Big plans.”
“I hope it involves banging Jenna Thompson this weekend,” Leo says. “I’m down for any plan that involves doing that chick.”
Alec shakes his head. “Shut your dumb ape mouth.”
“So what is it?” I ask.
“We’re going to do start bookmaking. Just like they do in Vegas, or the old school crews. Post the odds, take bets, you get the drill. I happen to know for a fact that you can rake in the dough if you get some decent customers.”
”Nice!” Leo says. “I’m gonna buy me a mink coat!”
Everyone laughs at that.
“And I want to start taking bets on the football games THIS weekend,” Jay says.
“Richardson, you’re the math genius so you can work on figuring out the betting odds.”
“I’m not a math genius.”
“You understand odds and betting lines, right?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Then figure out the odds and lines for the games this weekend. Don’t just use the paper or what the Vegas odds are. We need to have a bigger edge than that.”
I nod without saying a word.
“Perfect job for Mark Zuckerberg Junior over here,” Nick says and Leo snorts.
Jay tries to hide a grin but I notice. He keeps talking, determined to finish his speech. “We’ll start making some money and then you’ll all see what I’m talking about with this stuff. This weekend, if we work hard, you’ll see the results.”
After the meeting Jay pulls me aside. “How’s the website coming along?”
“I need a little while to get it ready to go live,” I say. “You only told me about this a day ago.”
He doesn’t like my answer. “The sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll be back in my good graces. And if you’re in with me, you’re in with everyone else.” Jay smiles and walks off.
***
I feel like a prisoner on death row who’s just gotten word that his date with the electric chair has been delayed a few days.
When I do happen to cross paths with Nick or Alec or, god forbid, Leo—they’re basically neutral towards me. A head nod, maybe a “what’s up.” But I know that I’m back to being the perpetual outsider. That’s why it’s perpetual, I think, as I leave school that day. Perpetual is forever, and I’m forever doomed to be a loner.
It’s a depressing thought and as I walk out of the front doors of the school with the throng of kids around me, it feels like I’m wrapped in plastic. Everything around me is gray. The skies, the trees, the other students. Gray.
Even my head feels gray. Muddy.
“Richie,” a voice calls from behind me as I head to my car.
Surprised, I turn to see Candice walking right near me. Her hair is down, tumbling over her shoulders. She looks like she could be an actress. Like maybe she’d be one of those girls on the WB that seduces the star of the show and then tries to ruin his life.
“Hey,” I say, not sure what she wants.
“Jay says you need my video file of the party.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I’ll send it to you tonight, just hit me up on Facebook.”
“Okay. Sure.”
She smiles at me. “You okay, Richie? You seem…tense or something.”
I laugh. Most girls would never use that word.
But she thinks I’m making fun of her. “Ugh. I should have known better than to try and be friendly with you.”
She stalks off before I can explain.
On my way home, I sink deeper into my sadness. I was better off before Jay brought me into this “family.” Now the old rules don’t apply and my status fluctuates from day to day. I’m at the mercy of Jay’s little whims.
When I get home, instead of working on the website, I go on Facebook and look at everyone’s status updates. Jay and Nick and Leo and Alec. No one has written much recently.
Nick’s most recent update is from late last night. It says Nick Despino is eating pretzels, drinking beer, and watching your mom’s latest porno flick.
“Idiot,” I whisper to myself.
And then I go on Candice’s Facebook page. I’m not a friend of hers. Which makes sense because we don’t really like one another.
But she did ask me to hit her up on Facebook.
Yeah, but that was before you went and pissed her off again. How many things can you screw up?
And Jay has ordered me to get that video up on the web, so I really don’t have a choice in the matter. I send the friend request.
If she tells me to go screw then so be it, I think.
In the meantime, I start looking into the odds for the games this weekend, since Jay told me—no ordered me—to do that. So now that I’ve sent off the equivalent of an Internet time bomb, I leave the computer alone for a while and grab the newspaper.
I start looking at the football and basketball games for this upcoming weekend.
Not sure what Jay wants, I start to make notes on what will be the popular games and try to figure out what we should set the line at in order to make the best profit without getting people complaining that we’re ripping them off.
I’m so focused that it’s about an hour before I remember the friend request.
Part of me hopes she just never responds. Or even a flat-out rejection.
Not that I want to be rejected, but I’m starting to think it might be better if she refuses. Maybe I can still find a way to get out of posting that video. And then I go to my page and see that she’s friended me. Candice and I are now officially Facebook friends. And she even sent me a message.
Hey, little Richie, sorry I snapped on you before. I can be a sensitive bitch some days. ;)
I laugh a little. Then I send her a message back.
A few minutes later there’s another message.
You’re not socially awkward. Far from it—even if you can be kind of a jerk sometimes. Cute pic by the way!
My heart is beating kind of fast. I check my pictures. Is she being serious, I wonder? Does she really think my profile picture is cute? It’s just me sitting in my car, staring out the window with a cap cocked sideways on my head. I was goofing around at the time, but it came out kind of cool anyway.
No she’s not serious about you being cute. And she’s hooking up with Jay. That means totally OFF LIMITS.
“Right.” I step away from the computer and grab myself a hot dog and some chips, a can of Pepsi. Back to work on the betting lines for this weekend.
I just won’t respond to her little message. She was being friendly, which is cool, but it’s easier for me to just not continue talking to her. She probably won’t even notice.
But as I eat and read the sports pages, my mind continuously goes back to her.
Candice. Saying I’m cute. I picture her face, her smile, her hair.
My fingers are typing before I can stop myself.
Aw shucks, thanx Candice! Maybe you could be my ego boost and I’ll call you and you can tell me how great I am, haha.
Her response:
Easy there, Richie. Don’t get ahead of yourself…Actually, I would do that. I’m bored. You can call me and I’ll give you a pep talk if you want.
She writes her number.
And she can knows I’m online.
Shit.
I start biting my nails. I never bite my nails, this is a totally new psychotic development. Chewing my thumbnail like a rabbit munching on carrots.
Don’t. Call. Her.
But I’ve already got my cell out. My brain is telling me not to do this and yet it’s like an out of body experience. I’m watching myself dial the numbers and then the phone is ringing.
Hang up, I think.
“Hello?” Her voice sounds different on the phone. Less husky, not so angry.
She sounds like a teenager instead of a ten pack a day smoker with a mean streak.
“Hey. It’s me.”
“Oh, that clears that up.”