The Present Situation Calls for a Change in Strategy

Nathan walked into Tim's party actually feeling pretty good. He'd managed to sink a game winner at the buzzer. What made it even sweeter was that it had been Tim who passed him the ball, despite Lucas' frantic gesturing. But Lucas had been double-teamed, while Nathan was wide open. So Tim, much to Lucas' disgust, sent the ball to Nathan, who just made the basket. Dan had been effusive in his praise, and Karen and Keith had been congratulatory as well. Whitey even said "Good job, son," which was about as glowing as Whitey got. Lucas, on the other hand, had been overheard in the locker room reaming Tim a new one. The feeling continued into the first half hour or so of the party. Haley had been waiting by the door and he was having fun talking to her. He could feel Lucas watching him, and knew whatever was coming was coming, but decided to enjoy himself while he could. So when Brooke suggested a game of I Never, he decided to go for it. His mom had never let him go to the kind of party where I Never got played, but it sounded kind of fun. It quickly became apparent that Brooke was either not all talk, or deeply invested in maintaining her rep, and the rounds went round with a lot of laughing. Until it got to Lucas.

"I never...." he said, sliding his eyes over to Nathan, "kept my mother in a tin can on the bookcase."

Tim, who was still trying to make up for his earlier passing faux pas, gave a guffaw, and there were a few other nervous titters, but most people seemed shocked. Peyton had gone white as a sheet, and Nathan wondered fleetingly where her mother was. Haley looked furious. He stood and took a swig from his beer. "I guess that makes you the lucky one then, doesn't it," he said, stalking away and out onto the porch. He could feel Lucas' vicious pleasure at his departure behind him.

Peyton punched Lucas in the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That was a really shitty thing to say, Lucas. Have a little compassion." Lucas just smirked, and Peyton snorted in disgust. "Never mind, you jerk," she said. "I'm obviously expecting too much from you." She followed Nathan out on the porch, turning her back to Lucas' protests that it was only a joke.

She found him in a porch swing, huddled against the winter night. "I'm sorry for Lucas. He's just-"

Nathan raised his hand and stopped her. "I am so sick of hearing how Lucas has always been an only child and doesn't share well and is still angry about the divorce. I was an only child too, but all that is past. He's not an only child anymore. I am here. Present tense. I need this to work, and he's doing everything he can to stop it. I mean, it's not like I set out to ruin his life. I didn't want my mom to get shot just so I could appropriate his father. But he is definitely out to ruin mine, and I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Peyton nodded. "Well, I'm not sure how much more of it I want to watch. It's going to take something big to get him off your back. Maybe if you-" but whatever she was about to suggest was interrupted by a sudden collective gasp from inside the house. "What the hell was that?" Both she and Nathan turned back to the house and stood in the open door.

It was the picture, the one Dan had insisted on putting in the living room. Lucas had blown it up to poster size and was standing on the sofa, holding it up so everyone could see it. But he'd changed it. Where the basketball was supposed to be, tucked under one arm, was his mother's severed head. Nathan recognized the shot - it was from a picture he kept in his room. Lucas must have snuck in and scanned it and then Photoshopped it all together. The worst though, was the caption. "Mother and Bastard", it said in big red letters. "Is that..." Peyton whispered, grabbing his arm.

He nodded grimly. "My mother."

Lucas saw them looking and crowed. "Look everyone, it's Nathan and his mommy. I had this made up special for him. Here you go Nathan, come get your present." He held it higher, daring Nathan with his eyes.

Peyton held on tighter. "Don't," she whispered.

He shook her off. "He doesn't get to win this, Peyton," he whispered back, and started walking toward Lucas. He was still standing on the sofa, and Nathan knew he was walking into a severe tactical disadvantage, with Lucas standing so far over him, but there was no alternative. Everyone else, even the ones too drunk to fully understand what was going on, cleared a path for him. He could feel their gaze, some sorry, some amused, some baffled, as he walked to where Lucas was standing, but he put all them out of his head, keeping his eyes only on Lucas. Lucas and that smirk, his scorn and disdain a toxic miasma hanging around him. He reached the sofa and caught the poster as Lucas dropped it. "Why thank you, big brother. You know, Karen was asking me for a picture of my mom. Maybe I'll give her this one." He knew as soon as he said it he shouldn't have, but he couldn't stop himself. Time to start scoring a few points of his own. And seeing the brief moment of fear , quickly replaced by ugly rage, told him a great deal about what kind of power Karen had over her son.

"You leave my mother out of this. She's got nothing to do with you, bastard."

It was amazing how quickly that word had stopped bothering him. You could take the kid out of Vegas... "Tell that to the Superior Courts of Las Vegas, Nevada and Union County, North Carolina. I think I'll be taking my picture home now. I don't want it to get too beat up here."

He rolled the poster up and started to leave. Halfway there he remembered one more thing. It was a Lucas week. He turned back. "What time should I tell Dad you'll be home?" He put a little emphasis on Dad. He still thought of his father as Dan, but he'd gotten better at obeying his request to not use his first name to his face, and had seen how nuts it made Lucas. It had the predicted effect. Lucas' face, if anything, got uglier.

"My relationship with my father is none of your business, bastard."

Yep, like water off a duck's back. "Well, okay, but don't forget he wants to hit the gym 8 am tomorrow. You'll need your beauty sleep."

Lucas' face twisted up even further, but he didn't have a response, and Nathan was able to make a grand exit.

Screw Mrs. Plumber. It was time to start playing offense.