A/N: Merry Christmas! (A couple days early!) I wasn't sure that I'd have this chapter ready before Christmas as it is just such a busy time of year. It's a shorter chapter, but that wasn't for lack of time, it's just how this one worked out.
I don't usually do this but I am going to address a guest review here in the author's note. The review was as follows: "Omg , I am very disappointed you hadn't finish this fiction, it is a great story how could you dare to abondone it, you are a good writer dont put a shame on you and thrown all your talent away like this by not giving this story the respect and credit it deserves." First… thank you for the compliment on the quality of my writing, I appreciate that very much! However… the story is (obviously lol) not abandoned. It had only been 2 weeks since my last update which I really think isn't so bad, especially given the craziness of the Christmas season. My updates have been sporadic for a while now, and that's just how it is… I update when I can and would rather make people wait than post something that isn't any good. But the thing that really gets me is to receive a comment like this in a guest review. I'm sorry, but if you're going to say something negative (especially something that literally includes the words "shame on you"... was that necessary?!) at least own it and write from your account so that I have the opportunity to respond!
On with the chapter… I hope you enjoy, and have a happy and safe holiday!
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
FOUR
School today was great. Peter didn't even show up, and I know it was because he was so embarrassed at being laughed out of the party when the tent in his pants made his "situation" clear. True to her word, Lynn showed me the video from after I left the party last night. Peter still had to walk by half the school leaving that house, and everyone saw. The best part was the comment that Tris made in the background of the video, making it clear to anyone nearby that there was good reason the tent in his pants wasn't any larger. I was torn between wanting to high five her, and feeling sick at the reminder that she would know exactly how well-endowed he is not.
My evening will not be as pleasant. It's Wednesday, the night I have my weekly dinner with Marcus. I always go straight to Tris's house after the dinner, but tonight I don't even have that to look forward to as I am still avoiding being alone with her. We did steal a few kisses in a hidden corner of the school earlier today, but I kept it short and more chaste than usual. I don't need to stoke my desire for her any more than what I am already feeling. We just have the championship game left on Friday night. I can't wait for these playoffs to be over. I miss her.
Tonight Marcus has asked me to meet him in an odd location. I had put the address into the GPS on my phone before I left the school after football practice. I followed the instructions exactly, but as I drive down the abandoned streets, I wonder if there was a miscommunication somewhere along the way. This industrial area is not a part of town I would expect Marcus to frequent. Most of the streetlights are burnt out, trash has collected in the street gutters, and many of the old buildings appear to be abandoned.
I pull up the hood on my sweatshirt to shield me from the rain and hop out of my car. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I survey the area, looking for the man I'd rather avoid. Soon I spot him. My father stands half a block away and across the street, the flickering street light above him reflecting off his umbrella.. I look both ways and dash across the street.
Marcus begins to lead me down an alley. It smells like rotting garbage and somewhere down the way, a neon sign reflects red light onto the brick wall opposite. I don't feel safe with Marcus under the best of circumstances, and anything could happen in a place like this. My heart beats in my throat and a shiver runs down my spine.
"We will be meeting with a few of my associates tonight. I trust you know what is expected of you, Tobias?" Marcus hisses. I can't even swallow.
"Yes sir," I croak. I have a million questions in my mind about who these people are and what he means by "associates," and why on earth he would want me to meet with them too. But I don't ask any of them. I don't say another word.
We reach a black door with chipping paint next to the red neon sign, which reads "otty's." It's supposed to say "Scotty's" but half of it is burned out. Marcus pulls the door open and greets a giant of a man with a bald head. He must be the bouncer, and he seems to know who my father is because we pass without a question, although this appears to be a bar and it has to be obvious that I am not of age.
Marcus's "associates" are already here. Two middle-aged guys sit at the table on the far wall, both of them facing the bar's entrance. I know they are the men we are here to see by the way they notice me and Marcus. They go back to their conversation but I just know that they are watching us. With their close cropped hair and the way they hold themselves, I would peg them for cops. But they can't be, or they would have busted me by now. I am a 17-year-old kid in a bar, after all.
"Marcus," the tall one says. "Glad you could make it." He eyes my father, looking skeptical.
"This him?" says the stocky one.
"Yes, this is my son, Tobias" Marcus says. He sounds confident, but lacks the warmth and charisma he usually fakes in any sort of social situation. "In the riveting world of high school football, he is known by the number on his jersey, Four."
The men nod. "We saw your game against Candor Highl a few weeks ago," the tall one says. "You got an arm on you, kid."
"What are your plans after high school?" the stocky one asks. There's a glint in his eye... hungry.
"College," I shrug. "Wherever I get a good scholarship offer."
"Lots of scouts looking at ya?"
"A few," I mutter.
"Don't be so modest, son." Marcus's words are those of a proud father, but the look in his eye is a clear warning. "How many scouts waited to speak to you after last night's game?"
I scratch the back of my neck. The tips of my ears feel hot. "Uh, four," I admit. Marcus prompts me to continue with a menacing look. "Northwestern, Ohio State, Northern Illinois, and Wisconsin"
"Oh, Ohio State," the tall one says with raised eyebrows. He whistles. "Well done, kid. How will you decide? You're a good kid, you'll listen to your old man, won't you?"
"Tobias is very...well-behaved. Aren't you, son?" Marcus smriks. "You wouldn't try to go up against your old man, would you?"
There is only one right answer to this question. Only one thing I can say that won't result in a painful reminder of exactly where I stand with Marcus. "No, sir," I say quietly.
I am left out of the discussion for the rest of the dinner. I pick up that the tall one is called Max and the stocky one is Rigs. I try to pay attention to their conversation, but most of what they're saying makes little sense to me, so my mind frequently wanders to Tris. I don't have a game tomorrow... maybe I can get away with seeing her tonight. Even if things escalate. If I really focus, maybe Amar won't be able to tell. I don't know how to get through these dinners with Marcus anymore without having my time with Tris to look forward to afterward.
Marcus's "associates" leave after half an hour with another reminder to be a good boy and always do as my father says. The entire encounter is odd and leaves me feeling uneasy.
Marcus finishes his hamburger and leans back in his chair. "So," Marcus says, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin, then throwing it down with a look of disdain, "your final football game of the series is on Friday night."
"Yes sir."
Marcus considers me for a moment, his eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. "I need you to do something for me, Tobias," Marcus says.
I swallow. I have no idea what he is about to ask of me, but I know that any request from Marcus is a demand, mandatory and non-negotiable.
"In the third period," my father slowly explains, "you will fail at a pass and turnover the ball to Erudite."
"Sir?" I say, unsure and nervous. "But won't that look bad to the scouts?"
"I suppose you won't have room for other mistakes, will you? You will make both me and the scouts happy, won't you?" Marcus sneers.
"Of course I will, sir." My voice shakes. I don't know what Tris sees in me, I feel so weak and pathetic in this moment.
When I am finally allowed to leave, I endure one last veiled threat from Marcus and cross the dark, wet street to my car, soaking my left shoe in a puddle that has collected in a large pothole. I fumble with my keys until I finally get the door open. When I am seated on the cold leather and closed in the car with the doors locked, I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. It has become almost a ritual to sit this way after a meeting with my father, just taking deep breaths and letting my heart rate slow. All I want is Tris's arms around me.
I lift my head and pull my phone out of my pocket. I managed to put her on my background by using a picture Christina texted me of me, Tris and Zeke together after a football game. While I was in the dinner, I had my mind nearly set on disregarding Amar's instructions, just for tonight.
But I can't now. The pressure has increased tenfold. As much as I would hate myself if I screwed up and let my teammates down in Friday's game, my only choice is to do as Marcus says. I can't just ignore an order from my father. I can pull this off and avoid adding more stripes to the already mangled skin on my back.
I sigh and lean back in the seat and compose a text message to Tris.
4: Hey baby, Mom wants me home again. Sorry I can't make it tonight.
I wait a minute for a reply. When I haven't heard anything back, I toss the phone on the passenger seat, buckle my seatbelt, and put the key in the ignition. Just as I start the car I hear my phone chime.
T: It's fine. See you tomorrow.
I stare at the screen for a minute, feeling uneasy. After a moment of consideration, I send one more message.
4: Can't wait.
When I get home, I grab my spiral-bound notebook to jot down everything I remember from my dinner with Marcus and his associates. But before I start, I check my phone and I frown at Tris's response:
T: Night Four.