"I'm telling you, Pete, it was him. He had the same eyes and hair that he had in the third grade…"
"Relax, Oli. What are the chances? Even if you're right, it was pitch black…there's no way he recognized you." The taller man told his half-brother.
"You never knew the guy. Had an eidetic memory. I bet he's real high up in the food chain now and knows lots of successful people…Pete, this could ruin us! Why did we have to choose him?!"
Peter placed an ice pack on his sore knuckles and grunted. "He was so small, I didn't expect him to fight back. And I can't believe with that fancy suit that he wasn't loaded! Friggin' waste of our time."
Oliver stood up and paced nervously. "Shit, man. I don't want to go to jail. I never wanted any of this!"
"If you're that scared, eliminate the threat." The older man shrugged.
Oliver stopped pacing and looked at Peter with incredulous eyes. "…What do you mean, 'eliminate'?"
The doctor exited Mike's room and found Harvey sitting on a chair in the hall. He smiled and walked over. "Your brother is going to be fine. He is healing as well as can be expected and should be out of here in three or four days."
Harvey shook the man's hand and thanked him before returning to Mike's room.
"Did the Doc give you the good news?" He asked as he closed the door behind him.
Mike frowned. "Three or four days?! Those 72 to 96 hours are gonna take forever to pass." He groaned and threw the sheets over his head, much like a child.
Harvey walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets off, to reveal a very annoyed looking Mike.
"Very mature, Mike."
The associate rolled his eyes but sat up again. "I'm sorry, I just hate hospitals."
"And why is that?"
"You wouldn't care." Mike dramatically sniffed, pretended to wipe a tear and then began to laugh. "Anyway, there are more pressing matters here, like why the doctor seems to think that you're my brother…" He waited in amusement for a response.
Harvey rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not telling you until we talk about Oliver and what he did to you." His voice had the air of authority.
Mike didn't try to hide his distaste at this idea. "I'd really rather not." His voice had the slightest hint of desperation in its tone.
"Mike, I need to know."
"Why?" The man on the bed pleaded. "I don't want to take this thing any further; trust me, it was just a harmless exchange and I'm going to be fine. I don't want you to get all worked up about it… "
"Hey, I am not getting worked up about this." Harvey defended himself. "But it was definitely more than harmless. Look at the state you're in, kid! Bruises covering everything. Just tell me what happened at school with Oliver and I promise I'll drop the whole mugging fiasco."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Promise? As in, promise you won't ask me any more questions about it, file a law suit against Oliver, force me to have extra security, treat me any differently at work…" Mike thought for a moment before adding, "or make fun of me for the bullying when I was a kid?"
"How could you even suggest that? I'd never make fun of you, pup." Mike glared but Harvey continued. "Yes, I promise." But like any good lawyer, Harvey had found a loophole in this contract.
He was going to make those bastards pay. And not in the literal sense.
"Now start talking."
"Fine." Mike made himself more comfortable on the bed and took a breath.
"Hey, Ross!" The most popular guy in school, Oliver Reid, was tall, dark, athletic, handsome and feared among most. At the very top of 'these most' was small, skinny, wildly intelligent, glasses-wearing loner named Mike Ross, whom Oliver happened to be approaching right at that moment, flanked by three of his cronies. "Whatcha reading there, four-eyes?"
Even the incredibly lame remark made Mike blush. He tried to stuff the book, "The Gulag Archipelago" into his backpack, but to no avail.
"Trust me, the group of seventh graders looked way scarier back then than they do now, in my memory…" Mike said. He didn't know why he really wanted to give his boss all the little details. Wouldn't he rather just give the facts straight and get this ordeal over with? But Mike had never told anyone this story. And here was Harvey, willing to listen…he pushed the strange thought away, cleared his throat and continued.
Oliver snatched the book from the ten year old and looked at the cover. "What the hell? You really are a freak, you know that? I've seen you with that memory thing. It always impresses the teachers. Tell you what, impress us here," he motioned to his buddies behind him. "and we'll let you go. Don't impress us, and we get to beat you to a pulp." Mike leaned as far back into the fence as he could, hating these boys. Oliver smiled evilly and flipped the book open to a random page. "What's on page 97?" Mike closed his eyes, took a deep breath and recited, word-for-word: "Most contributors writing in the samizdat literature did not advocate the overthrow of the Soviet system. Their views were meant to remind their leaders that the task of socialism was far from finished-" Oliver snapped the book shut. "Impressive." Mike sighed with relief and relaxed his extremely tense shoulders. The older boy suddenly threw the book as far as he could and it skidded across the pavement. Mike watched with wide and fearful eyes. "But we don't care, do we boys?" The flanks jeered and shook their heads. "We're gonna beat you up anyway for being a smart-assed genius." Mike wasted no time in bolting from the fence. Almost reaching the corner back to civilization, one of the guys jumped on top of him and they both tumbled to the ground. It was a chaotic wrestling match for a while until Mike was finally pinned to the concrete. "Thought you could outrun us?" Oliver breathed. "Think again, pretty boy." Punch after punch to the face, gut, arms, everywhere really, led black spots into Mike's vision. One of the boys emptied the contents of his backpack and grabbed what he wanted. Mike tried to calculate the rate at which the clouds were moving, but it soon became very hard to see. The last thing he heard before blacking out was yelling, running feet, and a gentle "You'll be okay, kiddo, hang in there."
"And that's when my hatred for hospitals began. It was scarily like the attack two nights ago. But I guess that that's the way Oliver operates." Mike's sad eyes found Harvey's equally sad face, then he shrugged and looked into his lap. "I'm used to it."
Harvey closed his eyes and sighed. "No kid should have to endure that. I'm…sorry."
"It's okay. It was the only time he put me in the hospital. Before that, it had been a few punches or shoving or just threats. Dunno what changed…"
Harvey leaned forward in his chair. "Did he ever do it again?"
"Nah, he finally got caught. Took the teachers long enough…" Mike kept his eyes down, avoiding Harvey's. He looked uncomfortable, so the older man asked a lighter question.
"Did you ever get your book back?"
The kid looked up and furrowed his brow. "No, actually, and I've been meaning to finish it. I forgot to mention, I had been on page 98 when Oliver came up. Thank God he chose 97...probably would've been worse if I didn't have anything to say."
Harvey half-grinned and said, "Maybe not. They beat you up for being a genius, didn't they?"
Mike half-grinned back. "Yeah, I guess there was no way out." A silence ensued but it wasn't terribly awkward. "Thanks, by the way, for forcing me to tell you. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."
Don't thank me 'til I've fixed it. "You're welcome, then. I have to go make a call outside and I'll get a nurse to bring you some food. You are way too skinny."
"No, Harvey, hospital food is gross!" Mike whined, back to his normal self. "I'd rather eat my hand."
"Fine, as long as you're eating." Harvey smirked. "Look, if you stop complaining about everything, I'll get us take-out."
Mike's face lit up. "Oh and one more thing…"
Harvey turned around with his hand on the doorknob. "You never told me why you told them that you were my brother…" Mike voice was teasing but genuine at the same time.
Harvey rolled his eyes. "I'll see you in an hour, junior."
And he closed the door after him, leaving both men to interpret the deflection.
