Author's Note: Here is my first attempt at an O.C. fiction. If you like what you read please let me know. I need reviews to survive.
Ryan Atwood felt crazy. No, more than that…certifiably insane. That was the word he was looking for. He was sure that if Sandy Cohen could see him now he would readily agree. He knew that Sandy was from the Bronx, knew his father had abandoned him and his mother left him to his own devices, knew that the man had taken a walk on the wrong side of the tracks, but Ryan didn't think the lawyer could ever understand Chino. Or what it did to him.
His life before the Cohen's had been a nonstop merry-go-round of chaos. His mother, who had always managed to offer at least some protection to her two boys from Ryan's father Frank, went off the deep end after Frank was arrested in Fresno. Despite her incessant promises that things would be different their circumstances had gone from bad to worse. At first it had merely been Dawn the two brothers had to contend with. Sometimes she came home drunk, sometimes she came home strung out on the drug of the day, and sometimes she never came home at all.
Then came the endless string of boyfriends and thugs looking for a good time. Dawn was always more than willing to turn a blind eye to the more nefarious and seedy aspects of her lovers, even when that extended to using her children as punching bags. In the early years he would look for Dawn to protect him, to rush to his defense as she had when Frank had one too many and flew off the handle, but her protection never came. Her mother bear response was lost in the booze and the drugs. As the bruises piled up and the days dodging questions from concerned teachers multiplied, the youngest Atwood realized his mother was gone in every sense of the word but the physical. Even with this he could never hate her. Ryan suspected that despite the numerous men she brought home his mother was the loneliest person he'd ever met. At least he'd had Trey.
Trey. The only reason Ryan had survived as long as he had was because of his brother. It had been Trey that had stolen food for them from the corner gas stations when Dawn had been too drunk to keep a job, let alone buy groceries. It had been Trey that had taught Ryan how to fight properly and despite the Cohen's insistence that violence was not the answer he felt that this skill had served him better than almost anything else. Trey stood up for him when Dawn merely stood by, tears streaming down her face, as Ryan lay prone on the floor, his flesh already darkening where the latest fist had struck. It was Trey that gave him the confidence to fight back and helped him find a place to stay when things had become too much at home. Hell, if he really thought about it, Trey was the reason he'd found the Cohen's. The reason he finally learned what having a family really felt like.
And yet, Ryan couldn't help but feel that Trey was also the reason he'd found so much trouble over the years. It hadn't been until Seth Cohen had come barreling into his life that he understood what it meant to have someone who cared for you with no strings attached. With Trey it had always felt like every favor his brother did for him was being noted and would one day need to be returned. Hell, today was proof of that. His brother had called in an 'IOU' that could land Ryan back where he'd come from or worse and Ryan had no choice but accept because Trey was his family, his blood in a way the Cohen's could never be. Seth would never understand Ryan's life before he'd been busted for car theft and Ryan didn't want him to. For reasons unknown to him he found the idea of Seth ever becoming involved in the Chino world repulsed him. Perhaps because he knew that the quirky young man would never survive or perhaps because Ryan was ashamed of who he'd been before.
The youngest Cohen had only ever seen flashes of what he'd dubbed the 'Old Ryan Atwood', but even with the brief glances he'd been privy to the young man had been shocked into silence. He'd told Seth very little of his life before and usually over some science fiction movie or a round of Mortal Kombat on the Playstation where Ryan knew he wouldn't be completely focused on what he was saying, but he never missed the awkward glances Seth would send in his direction or the way Seth's hands would slip slightly on the controller. That told Ryan all he needed to know. Seth was happy being Ryan's surrogate brother, being his friend and confidant, but the kid had no real desire to know the bad boy from Chino or the past that hovered over his head like a thunder storm. No, Seth wanted to know Ryan of Newport, the hidden secret in the pool house that was more than happy to beat the shit out of any water polo scumbag that happened to come along. Seth was the brother he smiled and laughed with, played video games and stayed up late eating junk food with, was happy with. Trey was the brother he knew would have his back in a fistfight, the brother he partied with, the brother he stole cars with.
Or for, as the current case may be. Ryan still couldn't believe he'd agreed to this. It was Thanksgiving for hell's sake. He'd actually been excited to have a real Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and sweet potatoes and people he loved and who loved him back, unconditionally. And Trey had to ruin everything. Why couldn't his brother see Ryan had a good thing going? That for the first time in his life he was being taken care of and had an actual shot at a future?
The car rumbled beneath his feet and he couldn't help but smile grimly at the power of the engine. He was more than aware that he was heading into the lion's den and he truly doubted he had the support of the Big Guy Upstairs like Daniel had. As a kid, when his mother had sobered up and forced them all to church, he'd always been fascinated by the story of Daniel and the lion's den. He found a strange kinship with the man. Both were stuck in places they didn't want to be, both had less than great chances at a life, but unlike Daniel, Ryan was never saved. No power of God ever came and cured his mother's drunkenness or stopped her boyfriends from beating him bloody. Except…now that Ryan thought about it…maybe he had. Maybe Sandy Cohen was his guardian angel in disguise.
Ryan smiled, but there was no humor in it. There rarely was when Chino was involved, but the thought of Sandy Cohen with a tiny halo and angel wings was amusing and if he had been safe in his pool house in Newport he would have laughed out loud. But, he wasn't in Newport. The dingy streets and broken down houses were proof of that. No bikini clad babes, no outrageously expensive cars, no preparatory schools, and no Cohen's. Welcome to Chino.
He was glad he'd sent Marissa home. When she had expressed an interest in his life before Ryan was both flattered and afraid. Sometimes being with Marissa Cooper felt unreal, like he was lost in the desert, dying of thirst, and she was the mirage that led him ever onwards. What if she saw where he came from and bolted? What if she learned of who Ryan really was? Or, at least, who he could be if given a chance. She had known he was bringing the stolen car to the thugs who currently held Trey's balls in a vice and the look of concern and disapproval she had given had nearly sent him running back to Newport with his tail between his legs. Still, regardless of how much Ryan wished it were different, he was an Atwood. He owed Trey this one last favor. He just hoped it didn't get him killed.
He pulled into the left hand lane and felt his heart lurch when he noticed a cop sitting in his car on the corner. Shit, shit, shit. If he was caught in this car it would mean the end of the Cohen's, the end of his future. He would probably die in juvenile detention even though the statistics of such a thing occurring were rare. He had the Atwood luck and a ferocious temper. Neither were very safe, but the combination of the two was devastating. Despite the idea of his death looming over him, the expression on Sandy's face when he received the call from the police made him feel even worse. Death had always been a part of Chino. Drive by shootings, drug overdoses, gang incidents, they were all a part of life. But someone being disappointed in him? That was entirely new.
His fingers tightened on the wheel as he cruised by, trying not to glance over at the cop. He stared straight ahead, willing the light to remain green so he could turn and be out of sight. No such luck. The light turned yellow and Ryan was forced to slide to a halt, a cold sweat making his skin clammy despite the California heat. He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel and felt the pit in his stomach fighting to bring the juice he'd consumed earlier back up his throat. The light seemed to be taking forever to change. A whole slew of obscenities rampaged through his mind but his face remained in a neutral mask. He was good at that, good at lying about the chaos that was swirling beneath the surface, consuming him with its jagged, burning teeth.
The light finally turned and Ryan blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He pulled forward into the intersection, waiting for the line of cars to pass so he could turn, and frowned when he saw the cop put his car into gear in his rearview mirror. Suddenly, the lights were flashing and Ryan had to fight not to slam his foot on the gas pedal and get the hell out of dodge. Perhaps it wasn't for him, perhaps one of the cars whizzing by him had been going too fast. Maybe he would get out of this in one piece.
He wasn't sure if he was more shocked or relieved when the cruiser sped past him chasing down other prey. He watched the car's flashing lights get farther and farther away until someone honked behind him. Raising an apologetic hand, he turned down the next street relief quickly turning to anxiety as the body shop Trey had directed him to materialized before him. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his chest and he was sure that if he took his hands off the steering wheel they would be shaking like his mother's during withdrawal.
He'd never liked this side of Chino living. Crime had never been his first choice and though both Trey and his father seemed to hurtle towards it with all the speed of a runaway train Ryan was relieved he had been given the chance to gravitate away from it. And yet, here he was, riding down the street in a stolen car to meet with members of a gang his brother had gotten neck deep in. Life had finally given him oranges instead of lemons and he was about to throw all of that away.
Ryan pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, and dropped his head against the steering wheel. He could walk away from this whole thing; simply leave the car and sprint back to Newport as fast as his legs could carry him. He could hug Sandy and Kirsten and tell them his visit with Trey was uneventful. He could eat his first real Thanksgiving dinner in years and listen to Seth chatter away about whatever topic he'd become infatuated with that evening. It would be so easy to leave this life behind him forever, but he couldn't. Not at the expense of Trey.
When he hugged Sandy and Kirsten he would think of Trey hugging him close as a kid as they tried to ignore the sounds of their mother crying wretchedly through their closed room door. When he ate the turkey and the stuffing he would think of Trey trying desperately to come up with lunch money so that Ryan wouldn't go hungry at school. When he listened to Seth talk he would think of all the dreams Trey had confided in him when they used to sit on the roof of their tiny house in Fresno where they hid whenever Frank came home from the bar.
If Ryan didn't deliver he knew they would have Trey killed. It wasn't that hard to do and happened more frequently than people realized. He could try and explain this to the Cohen's, but they wouldn't understand. They would try and convince him that Trey would be safe behind bars and that there was no reason for Ryan to risk his future. They didn't know the horror stories he'd heard on the streets about fights breaking out in the exercise yard or some guard being paid off to slip a knife to an inmate on the inside. No, he had to do this and he had to do it alone. He couldn't stand it if someone from his new family was dragged down with him.
Ryan's fingers tightened convulsively on the steering wheel and he let out a low, choked sob. The sound surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried and he promised himself that he wouldn't cry now. Besides, what would Seth say if he knew Kid Chino bawled like a baby. His whole image would be ruined and he didn't much feel like trying to have to find a new one. He had too many other things on his plate for that. He shook away the anger, the hurt, and the fear like he had so many times before and sat up straighter in his seat. Wiping his eyes of all traces of tears unshed, he put the car back into gear and slowly rolled down the street.
He set his face into a neutral mask of indifference as he turned into the alley of the body shop. The expression was a lie, had always been a lie, but Ryan had learned long ago that showing anything but general boredom with thugs like these led to gunshot wounds and busted skulls.
The street was wet and he could see oil shimmering upon the surface of a puddle. Tires were stacked on one side of him and there was a solid brick wall on the other. He didn't much care for the enclosed space, but he was already too far in to turn back. He continued forward a few more feet then stopped and put the car in park. Dogs barked somewhere ahead of him, but they were quickly lost in the pounding beat of the rap song playing in the garage.
Ryan looked up as a greasy man strolled casually in front of the car and tried to get a read on him as he made his way around. Cut off shirt, chain necklace that could do some real damage if ever used as a weapon, and the smug expression of a man who thought he was unbeatable. Ryan had seen his type before, but it made him no less cautious. In fact, it made him even more wary and his eyes followed the man as he stopped to stare at him from the passenger side of the car.
"You Ryan?" the man asked casually.
Ryan didn't say anything, but nodded once. There was something about this asshole that set his teeth on edge. The sooner they were done with this the better and suddenly Ryan ached to be home in Newport.
"This is a hot ride," the man said, taking Ryan's silence as permission to continue. "I'll tell you that. Hard to believe your brother could pull it off cause, uh, he's such a stupid son of a bitch."
Ryan didn't want to be sitting with no way to escape if something went down so he slowly got out of the car as the man talked. He grit his teeth as the thug insulted Trey, but he managed to keep control of his sudden surge of fury. He'd been getting better at that lately…not by much but baby steps, right?
"Yeah," Ryan muttered, changing the subject. "What do you think?"
The guy was getting closer to him and Ryan tensed. He didn't like this one bit, but he had to see it through for Trey. He tried to keep hold of his calm façade, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the dickweed got in his face.
"What, huh?" the guy spat, slapping Ryan's shoulder. "What do I think about what?"
"Are we good?" Ryan asked, turning to face him so he could see if the guy tried to pull anything on him. "You take the car, Trey's off the hook."
"Huh," the guy muttered. "Is that the deal?"
Shit. This was not going the way Ryan had hoped it would, but he could hardly expect his newfound luck to remain forever. Eventually reality would see that Ryan had stopped pretending to belong to his Newport family and had returned to his life in Chino, an Atwood once more.
"That's what he told me," Ryan said cautiously.
"Huh," the guy said again. Ryan wished he would pick something more original, but there weren't many deep thinkers who chose stealing cars as their life's profession. "You guys hear that?"
The guy had leaned around him to address 'the guys' and Ryan's heart stopped. Plural. Plural was never good. Guy he could handle, but guys? Guys was bad, Guys was very, very bad. Sure enough, Ryan turned and was faced with two of grease man's goons. Both were large and he was sure that both were not strangers to breaking a few teeth.
"I've been waiting six months for this, alright?" the guy was telling him. "And there is something called interest."
"I don't have anything," Ryan muttered, knowing even as the words passed his lips that they would do him little good.
"Yeah," the man said, grabbing his jacket in his fists and swinging him around to slam into the chain-link fence. "Well, interest needs to be paid."
The first blow slammed into the side of Ryan's face like a freight train and his head snapped to the side. He didn't see the black SUV pull up, but he heard the frantic honking of its horn. The guy holding him glanced around to find the source of the noise and Ryan took his chance. Even as the guy returned his attention to him Ryan struck out with his elbow, smiling slightly when he heard the satisfying crunch of bone against bone. The man reeled back and Ryan slipped along the wall until he could sprint towards the car.
He was more than a little surprised to see Marissa staring at him from the driver seat, leaning over to open the door for him. What the hell was she doing here? He had sent her back to Newport for a reason and the thought of her seeing him get his ass kicked by the assholes behind him was almost too much to bear. The thought of her getting hurt because of his stupidity was even worse. Still, despite his frustration with her, he had never been happier to see anyone in his life. He dashed down the alleyway, fully prepared to jump in the SUV and get the hell out of dodge.
He would have reached it with ease, but halfway down the alley he tripped on a puddle of oil in the street. He came down hard on his back and the air immediately rushed from his lungs. He could feel the back of his shirt soaking up the puddle in the street, could hear his frantic heart urging him on, but he couldn't breathe. He rolled over and struggled to get to his feet, gasping and choking as he tried to get his lungs to work. Water dripped off him and he could hear Marissa screaming at him to hurry the hell up and run.
Finally, after what felt like hours, his lungs hitched and he was able to draw in a ragged breath of air. The oxygen seemed to return his senses somewhat and Ryan glanced behind him to see how far Tweedledumb and Tweedledee were in helping their master recover. The greasy mechanic was getting to his feet and Ryan knew he had to get out of there fast.
He was almost to Marissa and their getaway car when the first shot rang out. Ryan flinched back as he heard the bullet ping into a trashcan somewhere to his right and glanced back frantically. The greasy mechanic, face covered in blood from his nose, had pulled a gun from somewhere and was aiming it in Ryan's general direction.
The second shot slammed into the rear passenger side of the car with a wet sounding slap. Marissa screamed and Ryan could hear himself yelling at her to get her head down. He reached the door and was pulling himself into the car when he felt something punch into his left side. The momentum of whatever it was that had hit him sent him sliding forward awkwardly into the front seat. He didn't pause to see what the projectile might have been, he was pretty sure he knew anyways, and he barely managed to pull the door closed.
"Drive," he spat out between grit teeth.
Marissa stared at him uncomprehendingly from the driver's seat, eyes wide and pupils dilated in shock. She was frozen to the spot and Ryan had to fight with everything he had not to scream at her. His side was beginning to burn and he could feel blood sinking into his shirt.
"Marissa," Ryan said as calmly as he could. "I need you to listen to me, alright? I need you to drive us back to Newport. We'll be safe in Newport."
He could hear the thugs coming closer, wary of any firearms he and Marissa might have been carrying, but they were coming all the same. He didn't dare acknowledge the irony of his general distaste for guns. He might go crazy if he did. Oh wait, he already was.
"Marissa," Ryan groaned as his side throbbed nastily. "Please."
Suddenly the light came back to her eyes and she blinked once, twice, three times before homing in on the sight of Ryan sitting slumped in the front seat. His chest felt tight and it was difficult to draw enough air into his lungs, but she didn't need to know all that. Ryan shifted in his seat so she couldn't see his bloodied shirt.
"Drive," he told her again. "Get us out of here, Marissa."
She jumped when a bullet pinged against the car but it seemed to be the push she needed because he pressed down hard on the gas pedal, the tires screeching as they attempted to grip the asphalt. They jerked forward and were speeding down the street faster than a bat out of hell.
"It's okay," Marissa panted, once they had screeched around the corner. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
Ryan wasn't sure if she was assuring herself or trying to assure him. He hoped it was her because if the pain in his side was any indication he was anything but okay.