Finals

by Alan Weisz

  “Wayne, do I have a story for you, but first I think I need another hit.”

  “Take a hit with us, dude. It will make you feel alive,” said Mike in my direction as he rolled a one-dollar bill into a tiny funnel.

  I couldn’t believe how this evening was shaping up. An hour ago, I just wanted a beer or two with Lexie. Now I was trapped in a room with two coke addicts wanting me to unleash my inner Tony Montana.

  I had also completely forgotten about Lexie. I hoped she was managing okay, since she was all by her lonesome. I needed to go find her and escape this indescribably insane situation.

  “Thanks, guys, but I need to find Lexie. I came with her.”

  “Wayne, come on, bro,” Brent said, as he tried to inhale the last morsels of coke from his nostrils.

  “Fuck her, man, bros before hoes. You need to take some of this shit,” Mike said, shaking as he nodded towards Brent’s desk. “Or at least listen to Brent’s story about how he fucked over some freshmen faggots. It’s classic!”

  “God, it is a classic, man,” Brent said, giving me one of his award winning smiles that I’m sure he’s used to swoon the women folk. I hated leaving Lexie alone, but I was intrigued. Screwing over freshmen, did not seem like something Brent would have done, or at least not something the old Brent would have done. I was mystified by the crazed cokehead in my presence because this wasn’t the Brent Crane I recognized. Then again, I was forgetting about Gavin. Brent screwed him over pretty good, no question about it. Why did I think he was incapable of further sin? I needed to stay and hear his story. Lexie could wait a few more minutes.

  “Sure man, I’ll hear this tale of yours,” I said, pulling out my cell phone. I flipped open my phone, and found one new text message. It was obvious that it had to be from Lexie.

  “I have your beer good sir. Where are you?”

  With my dexterous little fingers, I quickly explained to Lexie that I was currently bonding with Brent and his pal. I failed to mention the part about the massive pile of cocaine still on Brent’s desk though.

  Within mere seconds, my phone vibrated.

  “Gosh, about time you answered. Jaclyn showed up. We’re downstairs socializing. Come find us when you’re done.”

  I quickly typed, “Will do!” and put my phone back in my pocket. Brent was texting as well but put his phone away when he noticed I was finished. Now having my full attention, Brent began his story.

  “You knew that the first Finance Club party was over at Sampson’s house, right?” Brent asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, Mike and I show up at Sampson’s with some beer and a few bags of coke. We’re knocking a couple back in the kitchen and then we run into a few freshmen. Most of them were girls, and let me tell you, these bitches came to party.”

  “Fuck yeah, they did,” Mike laughed.

  “So we bring these three girls into one of the empty bedrooms and we start doing some lines. This one chick, I think her name was Deb,” Brent said, tapping his fingers against the side of the desk as he turned to Mike. “That sound right?”

  “I don’t know, dude, but she was one crazy bitch. We kept telling her to do more lines, and she’d do them. Her friends eventually had to pull her away from the table. It was fucking hilarious, dude. Fucking hilarious,” Mike said, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “The next day, we’re at some party in The Village and we hear about this girl who overdosed on coke and had to go to the hospital. Clearly, we know it’s the same girl.”

  “Obviously,” I said.

  “Dude, somebody recently told me about this chick. That she was dead or like seriously fucked up,” Mike said, as he rubbed more white powder off his nose.

  “Anyways,” Brent said, continuing the story as if unfazed about learning of the girl’s potentially tragic condition. “We don’t tell the guys at the party we know her.”

  Brent briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as his hands continued to shake. He looked absolutely gone.

  “Dude, I feel it.”

  “Me too, man,” Mike said, rubbing his nose.

  Brent inhaled again before continuing, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

  “Anyway, this freshman at the party tells us, the chick’s boyfriend was super pissed about the whole thing, and that he’s going to go pimp over the guy who gave her the coke. I don’t tell the guy, it was me, but in my head I’m thinking, ‘Yeah right like this freshman knows where I live, and even if he did it’s not like he can do a damn thing about it.’ But I was wrong.”

  “Boy, were you fucking wrong dude,” Mike said, laughing as he patted Brent on the back.

  “The next day, I come home to find my flat screen and my X-Box gone.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked, shocked that a bunch of freshmen could pull off such a stunt.

  “Nope, I honestly don’t know how he got into my house.” Brent stopped and gave me this wicked smile. The same wicked smile a drunken parent gives to his disobedient child before dueling out a punishment of unforgivable nature. “But I got the last laugh, Wayne. You bet I did.”

  “So what did you do?” I asked.

  “It took some doing but I eventually learned that the guy’s name was Ramirez and he and a couple of his buddies broke into the house and stole my stuff. He brought the flat screen back to the dorm and just set it up as if it were their latest purchase from Best Buy.”

  “Can you believe those little bastards?” Mike said wide-eyed.

  Ignoring the comment, Brent continued. “I also found out that Ramirez lives in our old stomping grounds, and I happen to be good friends with one of the RAs in Andrews, Sasha Ortiz. With her help, Mike and I planted about six bags of coke in Ramirez’s room and his buddies’ rooms when they’re out.”

  Mike started laughing as if he remembered that glorious day, but Brent continued to talk over him, hell-bent on bringing his story to a close.

  “It gets even better because I take the flat screen back, as you can clearly see,” Brent says, pointing over to the flat screen hanging on the wall. “And I get Sasha to do a room inspection.”

  Brent started to crack up and I can’t help but join in though it was more of an instinctual laugh than one brought on by anything humorous.

  “The boys were waxed when the RA on duty comes in and finds the coke. Of course, they can’t explain it, and who in their right mind is going to believe that someone planted coke on a bunch of freshmen.”

  “No one, that’s who,” Mike said, howling with laughter.

  “Fucking right, my man,” Brent said, laughing right along.

  “Now, the boys bitch and moan and tell the RA and the hall director that they were set up, but no one will swallow that shit. All four get expelled, and we’re left to bask in the glory of our brilliance,” Brent said, triumphantly pumping his fist in the air as if he’d just hit a game winning buzzer beater

  “That’s incredible!”

  “Yeah it is! Crane, you da man,” Mike said, laughing along with the two us. “If I was a chick I’d go down on you in a heartbeat.”

  “Some other time dude,” Brent said smiling, as he lifted himself off the bed.

  Sensing that story time was over, we all stood up, Mike was the last to do so and as he did he put his arms around both of our shoulders.

  “Boys, it’s time to get some ass,” he said.

  We all laughed, though again mine was forced, as we headed out towards the party. As Mike’s arm slipped from my shoulder, he said almost as an afterthought. “You said you came here with Lexie Naples, right?”

  “Yup, I did indeed.”

  “Good luck with that, bro. I hear that’s like trying to break through a wall. If you want, I’m sure Crane’s mom can suck you off.”

  “Thanks for the concern but I think I’ll be alright. I’ll catch you boys on the flip side.”

  I gave the boys each a pound as we parted ways, but due to his euphoric state, Brent provided me with an additional hug
that lasted for several moments, before lumbering off to the living room. As I walked into the heart of the inebriated fire, I knew I couldn’t stand to be here for a second longer. I needed to find Lexie and get the heck out of dodge. I didn’t want to run into Hayley, Brent, or his retarded sidekick.

  My sweaty pits and intestinal problems should have been caused by vast amounts of beer but since Lexie was still in possession of my alcoholic beverage, I knew it had to be the boiling rage that was causing me troubles. I couldn’t believe Brent could commit such a nasty deed and then have the gumption to find the ordeal hilarious. What the fuck was wrong with him? It was a given that the freshmen were stupid for stealing his television, but most freshmen are idiotic. When freshmen arrive at college, they have this mentality that every day is filled with beer chugging contests and wet t-shirt judging. To me, it’s mindboggling how brainless they are when they first arrive. A semester or two in, these freshmen begin to realize that college isn’t a joke. These kids or their parents are spending a fortune to go to school and after awhile these sophomoric youngsters figure out receiving an education is beneficial.

  Although, these freshmen did appear to be dim-witted partiers, they had the potential to change their ways. Thanks to Brent, these four freshmen would never be given a second chance, at least not at St. Elizabeth. Not to the mention the naïve freshman girl, who was seriously injured or worst. I couldn’t believe he had disregarded her condition as if she had a case of the sniffles. It was sick. Disgusting even. I didn’t know if I despised my former best bud or myself for associating with him. Like a pot of steaming water, the fury I was trying to contain was close to reaching its boiling point, and if I didn’t find Lexie soon I knew I was going to get Hulk-like angry.

  Knowing Lexie detested Hayley as well, I found it highly unlikely that she would wind up shaking her groove thing in Hayley’s proximity. I wandered into the basement hoping to stumble into her.

  As I made my descent, I heard gasps and shouts of “No way that went in!” and “Shit man!”

  Another epic beer pong game was in progress, each team had but one cup left to make. Drunken spectators had surrounded the table in hopes that this game would end in dramatic fashion. Pushing by the many pong observers, I uncovered two girls chatting away on a plush grandma-style couch.

  “Wayne!”

  “Hello ladies,” I said, plopping down between Lexie and Jaclyn.

  “Thanks for abandoning me,” Lexie said, her sarcastic tone suggesting she wasn’t too bothered by my disappearance.

  “No sweat. It looks like you found a hottie to talk to,” I said, as I jokingly caressed Jaclyn’s knee.

  “Thank you, Wayne. You know, if I wasn’t committed I would total ravage your body.”

  Immediately I began to crack up, which helped cool my rage.

  “Tease,” said Lexie.

  “Better a tease, than a stuck up bitch,” Jaclyn retorted playfully.

  “Dirty slut!”

  “Wannabe Jersey Shore skank!”

  “Whorebag!”

  Amused as I was by the girls’ repartee, my desire for the evening to end far surpassed my interest in their banter. I knew after learning about those poor freshmen, there was no way I could enjoy the rest of my evening.

  “Come on you drunk bitches,” I said, pulling the girls to their feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Fine,” Jaclyn replied. “I’m sick of trying to set Lexie up anyways. Talk about a pointless activity.”

  In most cases, Lexie wouldn’t have let a comment like this slide but she was too drunk to care. With one arm around my waist and her eyes focused directly on the ground two feet ahead of her, she had more pressing concerns at the moment.

  The evening air felt wonderful once we escaped Brent’s house. I don’t know what it is but a room full of drunk dancing girls always gets me hot and bothered. That and confessions of unthinkable acts. The fresh air did wonders for Lexie as well, who after a few deep inhales, needed less supported.

  “So Wayne, did you play nice like I told you?” Lexie asked, looking up from the pavement for the first time.

  Play nice? What was she talking about? When had she told me to play nice? Ah, she was drunk. She had probably said that to someone else.

  “Yes, I did. I always play nice,” I said, on the off chance she had said that to me, probably in reference to my chat with Brent.

  “Good,” she said, her eyes back on the sidewalk. “What did you talk about?”

  I didn’t feel like discussing the coke story. It was a long-winded tale that would likely force me to answer questions, give analysis and express opinions. I wasn’t up to the task. Instead, I fabricated our conversation, stating that we merely discussed homework, post graduation plans and intramural sports. Lexie was vaguely interested but since she was a glutton for gossip, my inquisitive nature told me that her next question would be about Hayley.

  To avoid the topic, I quickly asked Jaclyn where her boyfriend was this evening. Jaclyn rambled on about her relationship troubles until we were outside the girls’ apartment. After brief hugs, the girls stumbled indoors, leaving me to make the trek back home alone.

  The journey home lasted less than five minutes. The light breeze turned my evening walk into more of a brisk jog as I hastily quickened my pace. Once home, I tossed my cell and wallet on the nightstand, stripped off my clothes that reeked of PBR and threw them in my dirty clothes hamper before crawling into bed.

  I didn’t have the energy to decide what to do about Brent, I was completely exhausted. The story had seriously upset me, but racking my brain to come up with an appropriate solution could wait. It was two o’clock in the morning and I needed rest. Before I could enjoy the benefits of the REM cycle, I had to set the alarm on my phone. I grabbed the phone, flipped it open and found to my surprise that I had one new text message from Lexie. She was probably thanking me for dragging her drunken ass home. I am such a great friend.

  “You play nice,” read the message.

  Now, Lexie’s comment made perfect sense. She hadn’t been the inebriated idiot after all. I was the idiot for not checking my phone.

  As I sat staring at the text I began to think that maybe that was my problem; I was too nice. I was always incessantly nice. I was the loyal friend, not a rat, a douche or a backstabber. In certain situations perhaps I needed to be a dick. My whole life I had lived to get others’ approval. I was the well-behaved Catholic boy who never broke any rules. Deep down I knew that wasn’t me. I was living under a blissful disguise, pretending to follow the ways of the divine, but I knew His way wasn’t my way.

  I had always followed Brent’s lead and supported him in his conquests. I’d helped him turn in homework at the eleventh hour, I’d been his wingman at parties, and I always had his back no matter what stupid argument he was in. Supporting or approving of Brent’s actions gave the impression that I found his deeds acceptable. After tonight, no longer would my friend find me in his corner. Change was brewing. It was time to remove my costume and for once take my true form.

  As my brain continued to reel, I decided that disapproving of his actions wasn’t enough. I needed to do something. Action was necessary, but not some rinky-dink feat, something really needed to be done. Like a beacon in the sky pleading for justice, I would take up the call. Unfortunately for Brent, he would not like the end result.

  As I placed my phone back on the nightstand, I knew what had to be done. With a perfect idea ingrained in my head, an idea so dastardly, no goody-two shoe, Catholic boy would ever dream of acting upon it, I knew my world as well as Brent’s was about to forever change.

  Chapter Six

  Planning to commit murder is not like deciding to super-size your meal at the drive-thru or purchasing gum at the checkout counter. It’s not random. It’s as permanent as blocking a former friend on Facebook.

  It’s impossible to rationalize why murder is the best available option. You can’t create a pros and cons list, tally the totals then decid
e; murder it is. The act is instinctual. Deeply rooted in the pits of one’s being is the innate ability to take another’s life. Like any plant, this corrupt seedling growing in the darkness must be nurtured if it hopes to thrive. Most of these seedlings die early, as though they were plants starved of water thanks to a prolonged family vacation. Many are distracted by the frivolous chores of everyday life. A once promising killer can become sidetracked by having to take out a second mortgage or driving the kids to soccer practice.

  Growing up an only child in suburbia, my road to depredation was far from obvious to others. My criminal behavior started at an early age, but when my father realized I was capable of stealing toys from my kindergarten classmates, his belt helped illuminate the error of my ways.