Last Stop This Town

by David Steinberg

  “Dylan?”

  He turned and saw someone he knew. It was his friend Pete, the one who told him about the party, the guy from the ski trip. Dylan couldn’t believe it.

  “Pete! No way!”

  They hugged, then Pete asked, “You didn’t have any trouble finding the party, did you?”

  Dylan laughed. “Yeah, no problem at all.”

  Just then, a girl returned with a drink for Pete and he kissed her. With tongue. Dylan recognized her. It was the hooker from Houston Street.

  “This is my date—” Pete began but Dylan interrupted him, “Yeah, we’ve met. Hi, Coco, good to see you again.”

  She smiled knowingly.

  Just then, Dylan’s beer arrived and he grabbed it. “Well, you guys have a ball,” he said as he bid them farewell. Then he added under his breath, “Or three.”

  Dylan walked back to the place near the bar where he had agreed to meet everyone. Just then, Noah returned, looking defeated. “I can’t find her anywhere. There’s too many people.”

  Dylan hated seeing his best friend looking so sad and hopeless. He had to do something. “I’ve got an idea. Follow me.”

  Noah followed Dylan to the DJ platform.

  The DJ was a hot chick with a blonde Mohawk. She was busy doing her thing but Dylan gently touched her bare shoulder and she turned to him. She saw he wanted to say something, so she took off one side of her headphones so she could hear him.

  “Hi. Listen. My friend here needs to borrow your P.A. system for a sec.”

  And then he smiled.

  The three brothers searched the party, looking for the dead men that had dared fuck with them. “They’re here somewhere,” Anthony told his brothers.

  Sarah and Kim Striker were having a great time, dancing along to the music. By now Sarah knew that Kim was into her, and by the way she let him grab her ass and grind her on the dance floor she made it clear that she was into him as well. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

  All of a sudden, the music stopped.

  There was some confusion, some murmurs from the crowd, then…

  “Excuse me,” Noah announced over the P.A. system. “Sorry to interrupt the party, but I’m looking for my girlfriend Sarah Larson.”

  Sarah turned white. “Oh, my God.”

  Kim Striker looked at Sarah, a little ticked off, asking her, “Wait. You said you two broke up.” But Sarah wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

  Noah continued, for the whole crowd to hear, “Sarah? If you’re out there somewhere, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  He was talking into the microphone at the elevated DJ platform, trying to look out into the crowd, searching for Sarah as he spoke. “I’d really love to do this face to face. Are you out there?”

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  Suddenly, a spotlight appeared and started scanning the crowd.

  “Sarah?”

  The spotlight searched the crowd.

  Sarah finally raised her hand timidly.

  The spotlight zeroed in on her.

  Noah’s eyes lit up on seeing her. She had never looked more beautiful.

  She called out, “What do you want, Noah?”

  Another spotlight turned on Noah. And from somewhere else in the crowd, Anthony looked up at the DJ platform. “There! That’s the guy!” Anthony shouted triumphantly. They lumbered toward him.

  Noah continued, “Everything is changing so fast, I feel like it’s all slipping away. But I don’t want to lose you.”

  The crowd let out a collective “aw” and Sarah’s heart was starting to melt as well.

  “Who knows what’ll happen when we go off to school, but why not spend the summer together? Maybe the odds are against us, but who cares? Why waste the time that we do have?”

  Noah suddenly realized he didn’t have to keep talking into the microphone. He handed it back to the DJ and headed through the crowd to her. “Excuse me, let me through, excuse me.” The spotlight followed him.

  Noah made his way through the rapt crowd and finally reached Sarah as the two spotlights merged into one.

  She was a little teary-eyed. “I thought you said we had to be realistic.”

  “But isn’t that what high school is all about? Being unrealistic?” He took her hand in his. “Look, Sarah, I love you, and that’s all that matters.”

  Sarah wasn’t one to drag things out when her mind was made up. She kissed him! And the crowd went wild with cheers and applause.

  The music started up again and amid the deafening noise, Sarah whispered, “I’m scared, too.”

  “I know.”

  They kissed again. Sarah suddenly realized that Kim Striker was still standing there and she came up for air. “Oh, so this is my friend Kim.”

  Noah shook his hand. “Hey. Sorry to ruin your date.”

  Kim Striker threw up his hands. “She’s all yours, dude. No way I’m getting in the middle of this.”

  Suddenly, there was a scream. Noah looked back at the DJ platform and saw the three brothers dragging Dylan to the floor. Noah’s heart sank. “Dylan!” He raced through the crowd with Sarah close behind.

  The crowd of people had formed a circle around the fight and no one dared to interfere. Anthony and Sal held Dylan by the arms as Vinnie delivered a powerful roundhouse punch to the face. Blood splattered from Dylan’s mouth.

  In a fair fight, Dylan might have been able to take any one of them. But three against one was different, and even an experienced Army Ranger would have had a hard time fending off three hardened street fighters. Still, Dylan eked out a bloody smile, not willing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

  This further enraged Vinnie. “No one steals from us!” he shouted. Then he punched Dylan in the gut, doubling him over in pain and wiping the smile off his face.

  But Dylan was treating this as a matter of pride. Or endurance. He recovered, looked up at Vinnie with a glimmer in his eye, and said, “Fuck you.”

  Just then, Noah pushed through the crowd and tackled Vinnie, slamming him into the ground. Sarah screamed!

  The other two brothers dropped Dylan and rushed over to Noah who put up his hands defensively. “Stop! Stop!” he pleaded, and the guys stopped to hear him out.

  “Look, we’ll pay you the money. But you did steal our marijuana.” Noah looked over and saw Pike and Walker rushing toward him with Genevieve.

  Pike whispered to Walker, “These are the guys who stole my weed?”

  Pike and Walker glued themselves to Noah’s side and squared off against the three brothers. Noah helped Dylan up. Now at least it was a fair fight.

  Each of the four friends had had an occasional fist fight in his day. What normal American boy hadn’t? But this was different. Judging by Dylan’s injuries, they were probably going to wind up in the hospital shortly. But in that moment, none of them was thinking about the consequences. They weren’t scared, even a little. They were acting on instinct, an instinct that was telling them to protect their friend. It was a moment of pure camaraderie. They glanced at each other for a split second and smiled. There was no place in the world they’d rather be.

  “You wanna do this?” Sal asked rhetorically, “Let’s do this.” He raised his fist, but before he could throw the next punch, someone grabbed his arm from behind.

  He turned to see Chuck towering over him. And behind Chuck was the rest of the Hall High football team, ready to fight. Dylan and the guys broke into big smiles, elated that Chuck Zambrelli was going to save the day.

  “No, now let’s do this,” Chuck said dramatically.

  Fists started flying with the four friends in the center of the melee. It was chaotic, with punches and kicks flying from every direction.

  Dylan took another shot to the stomach and fell to the floor.

  Walker stepped in front of Genevieve to protect her.

  Sarah and Noah helped Dylan up off the floor.

  Then…

  Blam!

  A
gunshot rang out.

  It was Anthony with a gun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE REACTION WAS immediate.

  Chaos.

  A thousand party-goers began to flee the warehouse, screaming and shouting. The football team and the three brothers were swept up in the sea of people and Anthony was separated from the guys.

  “You’re dead, motherfucker!” he shouted after them.

  “Run!” Noah yelled, succinct if a bit obvious. The guys ran along with the rest of the crowd toward the front exit.

  Outside, kids were scrambling everywhere. The guys ran down the street to the Cube, Walker holding Genevieve’s hand, and Pike, Noah, and Sarah helping Dylan. Even Chuck took cover with the guys, for lack of anywhere else to run to.

  They reached the Cube and Dylan pulled out the keys. “I don’t think I can drive,” he moaned, still holding his stomach.

  “Don’t worry,” Noah reassured him. “I got this.” Noah helped Dylan to the passenger seat, grabbed the keys, and jumped in the driver’s seat.

  “In! In! In!” Noah ordered. Pike, Walker, Genevieve, and Sarah crowded into the back seat, while Chuck dove into the luggage area behind the rear seats.

  Meanwhile, the tow lot guys finally made their way through the crowd and burst outside. Anthony pointed the gun at the Cube but there were simply too many people in the way to take a shot.

  Noah started the ignition.

  “Hey, everybody,” Walker beamed, trying to lighten the mood, “this is Genevieve.”

  Dylan looked back at her and squinted. “Don’t you go to school with us?”

  “Wow, it is such an honor that you all recognize me after only thirteen years of school together.”

  Noah peeled out.

  The three brothers jumped into their Camaro and took off after them.

  The Cube turned onto Beekman Street, then Noah made another quick turn onto Fulton Street. But the other car was right on their tail.

  Dylan knew there was only one chance to get away. “High speed test! Hit it!” Noah looked at him for a second with a little smile of appreciation, then floored it.

  But the Camaro kept up with them and actually bumped their bumper.

  “Faster!” Walker yelled.

  Dylan, assuming Noah’s role, read off the speed. “Sixty… sixty-five… seventy…”

  Noah swerved onto Park Row and the car literally went up on two tires. But the Camaro was still on them…

  “Punch it!” Pike cheered.

  “Seventy-five… eighty…”

  Up ahead, the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge was rapidly approaching.

  Blam!

  A gunshot rang out from the other car.

  “They’re fucking shooting at us!” Chuck reported, in case anyone missed it.

  “Take the bridge!” Pike yelled.

  “No, the F.D.R.!” Genevieve corrected.

  Noah saw a line of cars stopped ahead, waiting to get onto the bridge.

  “LOOK OUT!!!” Sarah screamed.

  Noah swerved right at the last second and drove into the oncoming one-way street. The Camaro tried to follow, but hit the center divider instead, smashing into it at full speed. The hood flew up and over the car, which crumpled from the impact.

  Meanwhile, Noah was driving into oncoming traffic. He overcorrected and slammed on the brakes. The Cube spun out of control.

  Some of the occupants of the Cube screamed. Some of them closed their eyes and prayed. Some of them even laughed. But during those seemingly endless seconds that the Cube spun 360 degrees in the middle of Frankfort Street at 4:02 in the morning, Noah thought about Dylan. They really were sharing a moment they’d remember for the rest of their lives. Especially since there was a good chance those lives were about to end.

  But God was smiling on them once again, and just like before, the Cube just stalled out and came to a complete stop in the middle of the street.

  Everyone sat there for a moment not saying anything. Then Dylan broke the silence: “Entrance ramp to the Brooklyn Bridge, ninety-three.”

  Everyone burst out laughing.

  Noah turned on the ignition again and they drove off. The Cube merged onto the F.D.R. north.

  As everyone started calming down and panic turned to excitement, they began talking about what just happened. “I thought we were going to die.” “Did you see the other car?” “That was insane.” “Oh, my God, wait until people here about this.”

  Noah just smiled. A sign ahead read, “Henry Hudson Parkway, Yonkers, Albany, Connecticut.” Noah signaled and merged onto the road out of town. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Sarah looking at him, relieved. But more than that, she was happy.

  Noah winked at her and she smiled back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  FORTY MINUTES LATER, Noah was cruising up I-95. In the back, everyone was asleep, Genevieve on Walker’s shoulder, Pike on Walker’s other shoulder, and Sarah against the door. Chuck snored from the luggage area.

  Up ahead, Noah saw the sign that read, “Welcome to Connecticut.” He turned to Dylan. “You want to take over?”

  “Nah. You’re fine.”

  Noah continued on into Connecticut.

  Dylan was more or less recovered from the beating and was feeling philosophical again. “You know your life is going to keep getting better,” he told Noah. “This is just the beginning for you.”

  Noah glanced at him for a second. Another rare moment of Dylan being contemplative.

  “For all of us. We’re not going to be those guys who look back on high school as the greatest time of their lives.”

  “I am one of those guys, Noah.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yeah, well, I would have been. I don’t have your brains or lofty ambitions. That’s what the Army is about. For the first time in my life I’m scared, and I like it. I didn’t want to just go to UConn and take over my Dad’s paving company. I wanted to do something that matters.”

  But for some reason, this explanation just sort of ticked Noah off.

  “You don’t have to join the Army to get away from your Dad. Fuck that shit. You can do whatever you want with your life.”

  Dylan just laughed. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you just said that. You sounded exactly like Mr. Cardellini. You should totally write that in my yearbook.” He mocked, “‘You can do whatever you want with your life.’ Maybe you can add, ‘if you set your mind to it.’”

  Noah just laughed. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  And with that, Dylan rested his head against the door and fell asleep.

  Noah reached Westerly, Rhode Island in no time. Everyone was still asleep as Noah pulled off the highway. Noah took surface streets for a while until the Cube stopped at a railroad crossing. There wasn’t a train coming. No lights were flashing. But for some reason the car was stopped anyway.

  After a few minutes, the car pulled forward and crossed the tracks.

  Noah pulled into a driveway leading to a large beach house at Misquamicut State Beach and turned off the ignition. “Guys. We’re here.”

  Everyone slowly woke up. It was morning by now and the sun was just coming up. The gang made their way to the front door of Marco’s beach house and Dylan rang the doorbell.

  In a few moments, Marco opened the door, wearing a plush bathrobe. He took a quick survey of his liquor-less classmates. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. I need one, two, three, seven bottles minimum. Times two. Did you think I’d forget?” Then he turned to Pike, “And you owe me a shitload of pot.”

  But of course the guys had nothing to give. And they were too tired to argue.

  Marco looked them over. “Jeez, you guys look like shit.”

  And they did. The guys were covered in cuts, scrapes, bruises, and other assorted injuries (not to mention the remnants of fire extinguisher foam, foam-pit bubbles, and yellow paint).

  “Just let us in, Marco,” Dylan sighed. “We�
�ve had a long night.”

  But Marco just scoffed and replied, “You know the rules, compadre.”

  They all looked at each other, like, Seriously? After everything they’d been through tonight, Marco’s little games seemed so juvenile. So inconsequential. So high school.

  But they still needed to get in, so Chuck stepped up to Marco and pulled something out of his back pocket. It was a little notepad, like the kind a detective might use.

  “What’s this supposed to be?” Marco asked dismissively.

  “A list of every bottle that’s come into your house since Freshman year,” Chuck explained. Sure enough, the notepad had Chuck’s handwritten inventory going back four years.

  “Wow, that must have been a lot of work for you, Chuck. Good for you!” Marco mocked.

  “Look, dickhead. If you don’t let us in right now, this little notebook might just wind up in the wrong hands,” Chuck threatened.

  “What are you gonna do? Tell my dad?” From the tone of his voice, it was obvious that wasn’t much of a threat.

  Chuck looked defeated. He’d tried his best.

  But then, Genevieve stepped forward. “Actually, we’re going to tell the ATF.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms,” she explained. “Chuck’s records are more than enough to get a federal indictment on illegal trafficking and distribution.”

  “Yeah, right,” Marco replied, not so sure.

  Dylan continued the pressure. “This is serious, douche-bag. You don’t think they would care about your little operation? Let’s find out.”

  Walker smiled and joined in. “You don’t have a liquor license, do you, Marco?”

  Noah was game, too. “You know the ATF will seize your dad’s house. Both of them.”

  Sarah delivered the coup de grâce, “You think your dad might care then?”

  Chuck smiled. He liked having everyone on his side for a change.

  Marco looked them over. They looked like they just might do it.