Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  Meanwhile, Vincent was staring at the bare counter by the sink in the bathroom, not appreciating the fact that he didn't have anything to wear right now, except for a towel. He was fixing it, tucking in the side to make sure it wasn't going to suddenly drop to the floor at some random moment, when the door finally opened and he hid a scowl, lifting a hand to grab the clothes that would be offered to him. "'Bout time…"

  Red widened to stare at the set of round blue eyes. The door slammed in the pale face, causing the red eyes to flinch. Then Vincent was quiet, a little taken aback by what he thought had just happened. There was a sharp yowling sound, that soon registered as being William' voice.

  "ALEX! YOU IDIOT! GET HIM SOME CLOTHES! YOU LAZY BUM!"

  There were thudding sounds and the door swung open again, this time revealing Rodriguez's sheepish expression. The teen gave an awkward laugh, handing the bundle of clothes over to Vincent who frowned at him, aware of the fact that the girl had been able to observe his skinny-ass-edness.

  "Sorry." Rodriguez offered. Vincent stared at him, and then scowled.

  "Screw it." The door slammed, and Vincent proceeded to dress in relative peace. Only relative peace, because his mind became troubled when it was confronted with the task of putting on the clothes Rodriguez had given him, all of which were wholly uncomfortable for him to wear. The jock needed a good kick in the ass for this one.

  William was getting ready in her room while Rodriguez was getting ready in his. When Vincent opened the door and peered at the empty hall, he only saw closed doors. Lost and uncomfortable, the teen decided to go down the stairs. In the kitchen, the clanging of pans hitting the stove top after being removed from the oven tinkered with the workings of Vincent's mind. The sound must have done something, because, for a moment, he saw his mother standing with her back to him, in front of the stove, pulling off her oven mittens. But the illusion dispersed and Vincent observed the long mane of hair that cascaded down the woman's back. Richard didn't notice the boy as she made sure all of the food was hot and fully cooked. William would come down and transport the food over to the dinning room and Alex would set the table and get the glasses…if he didn't forget again, that boy…was football bad for his brain? She thought his skull was thick enough to ward off any potential damage, but now she wondered if he had a brain in his cranium or a big puddle of pink mush. Of course his grade point average suggested otherwise, but his memory was often lacking. She sighed, going to the sink to scrub her hands clean. Leroy was her little space cadet.

  Richard turned off the tap and turned to dry off her hands. Her drying ceremony slowed to a stop, and the woman's blue eyes blinked, finally noticing the teen that was watching, not quite in the kitchen as he stood in the tiled hall. She wiped her hands on the towel for complete dryness, with a low hum of curious thought.

  Wasn't his face swollen before? Now the swelling was barely noticeable beneath the bruises…must have been the lighting and the dirt. Richard shook her head, releasing the towel before a smile quirked her lips as she went to the boy, her hands going casually to her pockets. Her eyes ran over the familiar clothes and a slyness entered her expression. Red eyes just stared at her. "Look at you, all dressed up. …Comfortable?"

  "No." Vincent replied without a second thought, causing the woman to smirk.

  "I thought so… Good." Her hand clasped a thin shoulder and then let go as she proceeded to her bedroom to get ready for dinner. Since her husband was absent, there was no way in hell she would wear that blue dress, even if it matched her eyes. She was going to wear whatever she deemed appropriate.

  Her departure left the abandoned Vincent standing in the hall with nothing to do. He could set the table and remember to get the drinks... Touching the food…was too daunting of a task; it sent shivers down his spine. What if he dropped something? He would just lay down and die, right then and there.

  Vincent suppressed an inward shudder and took his first step into the kitchen. His eyes caught on the buffet of food occupying the counter space. The teen gravitated closer, distracted. Then he snapped out of his daze, swallowing, he rummaged through the drawer to get the silverware he needed. He'd get the napkins next, and finish up with the plates, carefully bringing them over the steaming, absolutely amazing feast. God. Was he really going to take part in all this gorging? He'd stuff himself until he exploded, that's what Vincent planned to do. He smiled wickedly at the thought as he carried his stack of dishes to the table and gently set them in the dead center of each placemat. It was a very nice green table cloth; it caught the light in a pleasing way. Vincent glanced at a shimmer, laying down the last plate at the end of the table. Grandpa would sit at the end across from the Chief. He would sit next to Rodriguez, and William would sit across from her brother, a whole side of the table, all to herself. Vincent couldn't help but feel a bit smug as he looked at his handiwork. It looked like one of those furniture adds in the newspaper, kinda, at least the placemats and stuff. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling that he sneered off because he thought it was stupid to feel this way about a table and some placemats.

  A soft, approaching tapping sound took Vincent's eyes from the dinning room table and he watched as Rodriguez's grandfather materialized, coming into Vincent's line of sight. Vincent stared at the old man and the old man's brow rose as he gazed back at the boy. He had heard the dishes clinking together earlier, so he had thought his grandson or granddaughter would be out and about, setting the table, but instead he found the red eyed delinquent teen standing in their place. The man analyzed the red eyes, the perfectly white skin, and the boy's sharp features…the boy was also tall and very thin… What interesting eyes he has, was all the man could think for a moment, and then his eyes brought his attention to the bruises and the scabbed cracks on the pale lips, the various healing cuts. An interesting specimen indeed.

  "Hey Gramps."

  The man frowned at the slang but didn't say anything against it as he watched as the boy grinned and chuckled, the white hands diving into the pockets of his black slacks. He was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt with black buttons and a stiff collar. The shirt blended with his skin…only…his skin might have been even whiter than the bleached garment, if that was possible. Clorox Bleach would not want this boy in one of their sock commercials, that's for sure.

  "I set the table."

  Blue blinked, realizing that the boy was still trying to converse with him. Vincent seemed to be perfectly comfortable with the man not contributing, content to talk on his own, still smiling. The boy was talking about a feast in the kitchen, and other nonsense. Such an odd mind, the old man leaned forward slightly, putting weight on his cane as he listened to the boy. He seemed to have some practice for this type of conversation, talking alone in short statements that trailed along like passing thoughts. He would ask a question and then answer it himself. It was peculiar. In the car, yes the boy had been talkative at first to liven up the atmosphere, but afterwards, the teen had been relatively quiet, listening to the man's grandchildren speak.

  But he certainly did not come off as being a gangster. Not in the least. His language, mannerisms, posture; none of it fit the mold of a street thug, except for the occasional dark joke and curse word.

  When the man decided to ask the boy the questions on his mind, it was too late. William came into the dining room, carrying a bowl of yellow corn, cut fresh off of the cob. She stopped, surprised to find the two in the dinning room alone, but she smiled and put the bowl on the table, pausing when he blue eyes noticed the plates and silverware. Vincent looked at the table as well.

  "I was going to go get the drinks and glasses next, but I got…kinda side tracked."

  "Oh." William looked at the boy and then the table, struggling with something that brought color to her cheeks and brightened her eyes. Vincent began to leave, but she stopped him. "We use wineglasses on special occasions, and my mother takes care of the drinks. Champaign and sparkling apple cider…" Her voice was quiet, Vincent and her grandfa
ther noticed, but did not comment.

  Vincent blinked, and then grinned wolfishly. "We get champaign?"

  "What?" William' head snapped up, it had been drooping, and her eyes widened. "No. We…I mean, you definitely do not get alcohol, Vincent."

  The teen sighed with disappointment and then brightened again. He seemed to be excited about everything now. "Should I go get Fat Ass?"

  The girl winced. "Alex…sure, go see if he's delaying on purpose." She watched Vincent go, and as soon as he was gone, she sighed at the table, crossing her arms and then propping one up to smush it into her cheek. "Ah…I don't have the heart to tell him we use the nice plates and silverware for Christmas." Her grandfather came to the table and saw what she was talking about. The little flowers on the center of the plates were nice, but they…hm. The man blinked at the silverware. Why was the spoon on the left side? And why was the fork on the right side of the knife?

  "He got the spoons and the forks mixed up, didn't he?" Now the girl seemed charmed by the mistakes and she smiled at the spoons and then her grandfather. "Would he mind if we switched them?"

  The old man considered for a moment and his hand touched one of the spoons. His lips cracked into a smile. "Why not leave it? We'll all eat with spoons tonight." The two shared the humor and then William left to go to the kitchen while her grandfather walked around the table, leaning on his cane once more when he stopped. He usually sat on one side of the table, across from his grandchildren, and Richard and his son in law would sit at the ends. How this was set up, it seemed that the grandfather would be replacing the father for tonight. An interesting boy, the old man mused, lowing himself into his assigned seat. He gazed upon the table from this new view, and then traced his gaze to his place setting. His eyes crinkled with amusement at the sight.

  Spoons.

  The kid shouldn't be alone on Christmas, Jake sighed as he shut the door of his car, maneuvering his hands into his pockets as he trudged through the grass for a few steps, disliked the mud that was ruining his shoes, and then went the long way to exploit the available sidewalk and cement path to the stairs that would take him up to Max's level. It was raining at a slant, so large shoulders moved instinctively inward to shield Jake while he reached up to pull the hood of his rain jacket farther over his brow. He would drop by, say hi, ask him about his uncle, tell him Merry Christmas, and then offer to take him to one of the group's gatherings where there would be food, beer, anything. Max might refuse or he might decide to go with him, either way, Jake would have made the effort and the kid would know that he doesn't have to be all alone, cooped up in that cramped room. Guys were still uneasy about First and who he had been affiliating himself with, but no one would be able to do anything or say any stupid crap with Jake there. And an appearance would probably kick start the process of mending his reputation.

  Jake had these thoughts in his mind as he met the stairs, leaving the rain behind him. Water beaded and slipped off of the black rain jacket as Jake continued his journey, reaching the top of the stairs and going down the walkway to knock on First's door. Brown eyes blinked as Jake waited, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, expecting the door to open at any moment. But it was quiet and the door handle never moved. With a developing frown of perplexity, knuckles rapped on the door again, quickly, sharply, demanding a response. Nothing happened except a curious neighbor peeked through her window along with another face from another room, to inspect the source of the knocking. Once they saw Jake, their attention was seized, but their courage wavered and the drapes were shut as the faces decided to become only listening ears.

  "Max."

  Silence.

  "Max, are you in there?"

  Silence.

  "Damn it, this had better not be one of your games."

  Silence. And then the silence overtook the dialog as Jake became quiet, hands by his sides, watching the door. His frown darkened his features as his hands returned to his pockets, standing before the door and glancing at the curtained window. It was dark in there. First had said his electricity would be back on by now…so he wasn't in the room.

  Jake's weight shifted from one foot to the other as he pondered the situation. Max couldn't be at the hospital still. Too much time had passed and Jake wasn't sure if the visiting hours went on for this long. It was raining, so Max wouldn't be wandering around. It was Christmas so he couldn't be out looking for a place where he could apply for a job. No school. No money, so no shopping or getting food. No other friends, so there wasn't a chance of the kid…

  Brown eyes widened as Jake's lips parted, gazing at the door without seeing it. His teeth snapped together and the gaze became a glower as a growl crept up Jake's throat, anger sparking to catch on his thoughts and begin to smolder, the rising smoke clouding and darkening the man's eyes.

  The stupid little bastard had gone off with them again. Jake turned, looking down the walkway towards the stairs, seeing the memory of the two blonde siblings standing before the stairs. Teeth clenched in a malevolent scowl. I never should have shown them where his room was. Damn it…damn that stupid brat…he never listens to anything I fucking tell him! Damn it! Now I have to go get him back again!

  Heavy steps marched forward, drawing out the timid faces that glimpsed the passing giant. The steps continued down the stairs with Jake muttering under his breath, fists by his sides as he glared at the concrete below. "A pain in the ass. Just a royal pain in the ass. And a stupid little brat that can't grow up…fuck!" The muttering decomposed into thoughtless grumbles when Jake's shoe hit the concrete and he left the stairs behind him.

  The grumbles could have gone on for minutes or hours, as they had in the past, but the endurance of these grumbles pouring from Jake's mouth ceased as a small, flee-like presence stepped in his path. It was a wonder that Jake had not trampled over the little man and walked on without even noticing. But now Jake's dark eyes peered down at the little sun browned man that squinted up at him with a look of outrage and disapproval at Jake's towering height. The landlord puffed his chest in a façade of pride that poorly masked his indignation, and he gave Jake an ugly little smirk. The giant and the smurf said nothing for a moment, and then the little smurf-man's teeth moved with speech.

  "And how can I help you?" Sneered a chuckle that Jake didn't care to hear. The man's head cocked to the side, as if amused by Jake's presence. "I think I've seen you 'round here a couple times. Why, is what I'm thinkin' to myself when I see you. You don't belong here. There's no reason for you being here, right? Am I right? So I just begin to get a wee bit suspicious now, since a guy like you seems likely ta be up to no damn good, ya know what I'm talking about?"

  Jake said nothing as his face remained emotionless, watching the snickering little being below him begin to dance around on its little smurf feet, moving over to the stairs behind Jake, still chuckling and watching Jake's stolid face as if it was something that was supposed to be laughed at. The little man went up a few steps and grinned lopsidedly at the giant as he saw that the dark eyes had followed him and he still had Jake's attention. Even on the steps, the man still had to look up at Jake and Jake had to look down at him.

  "I might jus' have to call the cops to know what you're up to, unless you want to do the smart an' polite thing and tell me what you come here for."

  It was quiet for a moment and some of the man's humor began to wane, but his face lit up with delight when he believed he had intimidated Jake into responding. The low tenor of Jake's voice contrasted with the last words the small man had left in the air. "I come by to check up on a friend of mine."

  The little man snickered rudely and threw his thumb back at the rooms his tenants were occupying on the lower and upper levels. "Which friend?"

  Jake blinked and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you the guy that owns this place?" Just to make sure…

  Pride welled up from the little man, twisting his little sneer. "Yeah. I own the place, bud. Now tell me which room you're visiting so often." When Jake didn
't say anything and appeared to be ready to turn and leave, the landlord gave another little chuckle and shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated, very pawn-shop-owner-Greg manner. Fake sympathy dripped from the man's mocking tone. "Oh well, if you're not ready to tell me anything, I'll jus' have to ask around, call up some cops ta look into all this shady business, because how do ah know whether you're coming around with drugs or conductin' some illegal business on my property? Yah, so do I have your attention now, bud?"

  Jake stared at the man, reluctantly amazed by the disgusting and feeble threat that he had just thrown at him, casual as can be. Jake's mouth tightened, dipping into a frown as he felt that the man wasn't worth his time but could prove to be rather annoying if let alone. His head jerked up, indicating the upper level. "I come by to check on the kid."

  Beady eyes blinked at the giant. "He have red eyes?"

  A nod was all that was given, but it was enough to rip an ugly cackle from the man, a laugh that widened Jake's glare. The landlord laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the second level, as if to look at the teen, and then he laughed in Jake's face. "So it has to be drugs or something! I can't believe how popular Street-shit is nowadays, an' I guess tha's the reason!"

  A dark brow rose and the giant's eyes narrowed, focused on the irritating cackling smurf. "What did you just call him?"

  The laughing stopped and a full grin was delivered to Jake, the beady eyes twinkling with delight before a hand ever came to touch Jake's shoulder, limited by its stubby reach. There was a snort.

  "I jus' called yer little scummy friend what yah all really are. Street-shit."