Chapter 3
Ryan was hungry; he'd skipped dinner last night. After assuring Seth that he was fine, it hadn't been hard to convince him to go visit Summer. Then Ryan had smoked the rest of his emergency only, backup cigarettes. He had briefly considered calling up Marissa but came to his senses in time. He wanted a distraction but not so badly he could pretend nothing had happened between them with Oliver. Sometime during a night of tossing in bed Ryan had decided to talk to Sandy in generalities. Then if it seemed like the right thing to do, he would tell Sandy the specifics of what he had seen between Chester and his dad.
The decision to talk to Sandy and the requisite beautiful Newport morning made problems seem manageable. Now Ryan was in his element. The bacon was sizzling, the coffee was hot, and the potatoes and onions were fried to perfection. He'd beaten the eggs and they were ready for the skillet. Cooking was a matter of timing and demanded his full attention so there was no time to dwell on other things. He prided himself on getting everything to the table hot.
"Hmm, is that bacon?" Kirsten asked entering the kitchen. She was still in her bathrobe.
Kirsten's question, after many weekends of Ryan's customary breakfasts, was rhetorical. He wiggled an egg in the air and raised his eyebrows in a question.
"Yes, please." Kirsten helped herself to a mug of coffee and settled herself at the counter.
While Ryan tended to the eggs at the stove, Kirsten looked on contently. After a few minutes he plated four strips of bacon, a token bite of potatoes, and scrambled eggs and placed it in front of Kirsten.
Kirsten smiled broadly. "Thanks, Ryan. Kind of quiet, we rarely have the kitchen to ourselves. A Saturday and Sandy's working early – he didn't even surf before going in!"
Ryan fixed himself a similar plate and returned the smile. "Seth has a sailing lesson."
Leisurely, they ate their breakfasts at the counter. Kirsten looked over work papers jotting down notes in the margins. Ryan read the Sports section. Occasionally an interesting article would cause him to pause thoughtfully, an empty fork poised against his lower lip.
Finished with the section, Ryan got up and went to top off his mug with fresh coffee. "I hope it's okay – this is the last of the French roast."
"That's Hailey's favorite. I'll pick up some more." Kirsten looked through the selection of bagels in the basket. "Bagel? There's sesame, salt, plain, and cinnamon."
"All flavors accounted for?" Ryan asked with mock incredulity. "Hailey really isn't around."
Kirsten smiled thinly. "It's been weeks and I haven't heard from her. I always thought, maybe naively, she could buy herself out of trouble. But this time she's tapped out her trust fund, Dad's cut her off, all her old friends are mad at her. Where is she going to live? What is she going to do for food?"
As Kristen listed each of Hailey's dilemmas her voice rose in anxiety. "Can you imagine being alone in the world with no plan, no money? " She frowned into the vague distance and twisted her coffee mug in her hands. Then realizing that Ryan probably could imagine just that, she looked at him apologetically. She uttered a soft, "Oh ..."
Ryan shrugged and busied himself with the coffee carafe, avoiding Kirsten's sympathetic looks. After an uncomfortable pause, he turned and looked directly at Kirsten and said thickly, "Hailey is lucky to have you guys." Ducking his head down he added, "I remember some names from her New Year's party I broke up if you want me to ask around ..."
"No. Absolutely not! Ryan, we are not going to do this again. You are sixteen and my sister is an adult no matter how irresponsible. I can't save her, you can't save her, only she can." More evenly she said, "Ryan, I didn't mean to make it your problem when I told you my worries. I'm sorry I dumped all this on you."
"No, of course. I was just offering to help. I wouldn't do anything without your okay." Kirsten forced Ryan to return her stern gaze until she was satisfied he knew how serious she was. Ryan tried to reassure Kirsten. "I ran away once, you learn to make do. Hailey is tough – she'll learn and be all right."
"I hope you're right. Hailey is like a kid." Kirsten paused as she spread cream cheese over part of a bagel, an amused expression crossed her face. "At least Seth was eight when he ran away. He made it down to the pier and the manager called me. But for three hours we were out of our minds."
"I lasted 3 days. I was ten, I think. Somebody noticed nobody was bringing in the mail, and made Mom get Trey to track me down." Ryan added sarcastically, "Well, at least I can say I tried to ditch her before she ditched me, huh?"
Kirsten looked at Ryan for a long moment as if considering carefully what to say. "Your mom ... when she and I talked that morning ... She loves you very much but thought she was doing the right thing. Sometimes loves means letting go, too." Kirsten paused again, and then said haltingly but adamantly, "Just know we love you here. You have a family - but we're your family now, too. We're in your corner." She gently admonished, "Only I don't ever want to be your cut man again."
Ryan's body was taut as he listened carefully to Kirsten, but only acknowledged the boxing reference with the slightest nod and faint smile. Kirsten continued, "I've always thought that if you knew with absolute certainty that someone supported you no matter what, you would be okay whatever the world throws your way. Mom was in our corner. I still feel her strength. She and Hailey look so much alike... I think Mom wasn't finished with Hailey yet. She died when Hailey was so young, still in high school."
"Do you really think if a kid knows someone is in his corner he'll be okay even if other parts of life are shit? There's some magical balance you can put situations on to decide whether he's okay or not? On one side his dad's an ass but on the other side his mom is Carol Brady, even trade-off? It's hard to ask somebody to choose between family and a few knocks..." Ryan stopped abruptly, surprised to be thinking aloud. "I'm sorry about – the language, the ..."
Kirsten looked confused, and she asked, "Ryan, what is this about?"
Ryan shrugged casually. "It's nothing, really."
Kirsten waited to encourage Ryan to elaborate. He didn't so she continued, "Well, what I meant was even though we knew Seth wasn't getting along in school, he knew we loved him. He told us what was going on, and we trusted that if it got to be too much he'd tell us. Or so we thought – talking never was a problem for him." She grimaced reconsidering, "But maybe we didn't have the right 'magical balance' and didn't see what he didn't want us to see. I didn't realize how unhappy he was until I saw how different he has been recently - since you've come."
"Seth's cool." Ryan was uncomfortable now and exaggerated his interest in the newspaper he already read.
Relenting to Ryan's desire to change the subject, Kirsten said, "Well, I hate to leave you boys alone two nights in a row, but we have a business dinner tonight. I would skip it except we have a big 'draw' coming up and all the principals will be at the dinner to be smoozed. I'll cook a special dinner soon."
"Is this the draw for completing the model home? Now a higher line of credit will be available for completing the other houses in the development, right?"
"Yes. Hey, you do know your stuff! I'll have to remember to take advantage of you, ask you to help out."
"Sure. Anything I can do to make up for - well, burning it down." Ryan looked sick with guilt. He decided it was his turn to change the subject. "They still haven't forgotten Thanksgiving dinner. So maybe I can help you with dinner?"
"Sandy was the one in charge of the turkey!" Kirsten replied hotly. Crossly she gathered up her papers and stood up. Then she sighed and said, "But it is nice being in the kitchen with you. Sometimes, it's impossible to get a word in with those two around."
Seth entered the kitchen in time to overhear their last remarks. "Mom, Ryan, mutes no longer! And what great voices. C'mon you guys, gimme a B flat to tune to. Beeee flaaaaat," he sang purposefully off key.
Kirsten looked faintly amused. "I thought you had a sailing lesson this morning. And you forgot the take out the trash last night."
"Mom, that's sharp. Chester cancelled." Seth was speaking to his mother but looked at Ryan who stared back intently.
Kirsten was oblivious to the tension. "Oh, little Chester. We're going to his house tonight. Dad and I are going to the Newport Better Business Bureau's annual dinner hosted by Chester's dad. I'll remember to ask about him."
XXXXXXXXXX
Kirsten, Seth and Ryan stood at the entrance to an imposing stone mansion.
Kirsten eyed them skeptically. "Something is up. Why are you boys coming to this banquet full of old people again?"
Seth said in a condescending tone, "Mother, Ryan is eager to learn the intricacies of better business bureau-ing. And of course he hopes to converse with Grandpa; both go-getters from modest means, they have a lot in common. Personally, I'm here for the crab and brie phyllo."
"Hmmm. I'm going to find out what is up. And I better like it. I hope Sandy gets here soon – maybe he can worm it out of you guys."
The door opened, and Kirsten was led away by an elegant woman.
Seth grabbed Ryan's jacket to stop him from following. "Okay, Ryan. I need your baby blues on me. Lock on, buddy."
Ryan narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Seth who continued, "We are here to check up on The Chester. You will not attack Mr. Moore or any other guest. Seriously, man, control is the key. Let's do this right for Chester ... and for you. The Oliver mess will not be repeated. I've got your six, okay?"
"I thought B flat was the key." Ryan deadpanned. Seth stared at him, pissed. "Yeah, yeah, okay, man. I am not going fight anybody or make a scene at another fancy party. I promise. I just need to see Chester, talk to your dad, and we'll leave. Go have Balboa bars at the pier."
Seth nodded and gestured for Ryan to step ahead of him into the house.
They entered and surveyed more than fifty or so members of the Newport Business Bureau and their spouses in a large living room. The room opened on one side to an even larger formal dining room. The décor was traditional: dark mahogany furniture, floral upholstered sofas, and morose landscape paintings. As Kirsten predicted, the demographic was skewed toward the Viagra and Talbot set. Groups of older men with a sprinkling of women milled about with drinks in their hands.
Seth and Ryan scanned the crowd for Chester and his dad without luck. "My best guess, Ryan, is that Chester's hanging outside. The folks will make him do the dog and pony show at some point so he's nearby. He's going to want to be near the food and abandoned cocktails." Seth walked toward the back of the room, weaving his way through the people. Ryan followed close behind.
A man reached out and clamped Seth's shoulders. "Hi, Seth! This is a surprise; Kiki never tells me anything." Turning to the others he said, "Fellows meet my grandson. He's rearing to take over the commercial sector." Caleb and two distinguished men chuckled appropriately.
The men shook Seth's hand and asked him questions. "Are you considering Berkeley, son? You know you can learn a lot from you grandfather, don't you?"
"Yes thank you, kind robber barons. Please excuse us. Ryan and I are needed to help set up the, umm, thing in the backyard. They have this big – thing – planned for after the ceremonies. You'll really love it."
"Hey, hey, not so fast." Caleb held Seth firmly by the elbow. He looked at Ryan with mild disdain, "You can go around back and help. Seth's needed to talk shop." Seth was trapped and looked at Ryan helplessly.
Ryan nodded politely to group, grinned at Seth's pained expression, and walked away.
He stood quietly just outside the doorway and scanned the backyard. No other guest was tempted by the outdoors. The back patio was similar to the Cohens' but looked down onto the bright lights of the city below instead of the ocean. An organic free-formed shaped pool and an impressive barbeque area were lit by strings of multi-colored lights and lanterned candles
Chester was sitting quietly by the table near the grill. He was in a dark suit. As Ryan walked slowly toward Chester, he cleared his throat in warning.
Chester surreptitiously dropped a cigarette on the ground and covered it with his shoe. Chester hunched deeper into his jacket but did not otherwise acknowledge Ryan.
"Hey. Okay if I hang out here?" Without waiting for a reply, Ryan sat down next to Chester. Neither spoke nor moved for long moments. But Chester's eyes darted around considering escape routes.
Ryan openly looked over Chester for injuries. There were no bruises on his face, but Chester's breathing was shallow and quick and there was a light film of sweat on his brow. Ryan wasn't sure if there was anything physically the matter with Chester, but Chester was definitely jumpy. "I'm ... a friend, a good friend of Seth's. He said you missed sailing today so he asked me to see if you were all right. You okay?"
Chester ventured a quick, worried glance at Ryan.
Ryan tried again with forced boisterousness, "Seth says you are a pretty good sailor; maybe the three of us can take the big scow out. I'm pretty awful but I can be the rail meat, huh?" Ryan self-consciously laughed at his own expense. "But you guys will help me out, right? 'Cause that's what friends do."
There was no reaction from Chester.
Ryan sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned forward in his chair. Chester flinched and drew back slightly at Ryan's movement, then his worry was masked again by suspicion. "Chester, throw me a bone. I'm not good with words or kids. How are you, man?"
Without looking up Chester offered in a small nervous voice, "They needed help setting up the, umm, thing, so I had to miss sailing. Tell Seth I'm fine. You can go now."
"Setting up the thing, huh? I can see why you and Seth get along."
"Kaitlyn says you're Seth's foster brother." With a mix of awe and fear Chester stammered, "Sh-she said you stole a car and burned down a house." Chester warily watched out of the corner of his eye to see what Ryan's reaction would be.
Happy for any dialogue with Chester, Ryan conceded, "Kaitlyn's kind of right. You're friends with Kaitlyn huh?"
Sadly, he said, "She doesn't like me much. But I heard them talking. She doesn't sail because she might get wet. I bet the scow is big enough not to list and take on water ..."
"Yeah, maybe we can all go. I've babysaa - I mean - hung out with Marissa and her sister before. I could ask Kaitlyn to come."
"No Kaitlyn hates you, but she might go if Marissa goes." Then Chester shook his head pessimistically and added, "but I doubt it."
Ryan hated to interrupt Chester's daydreaming but he could see that the living room was thinning out. In a short time, Chester would have to go join the other diners. Ryan spoke forcefully, "I want to talk to you about what I saw by the field. I grew up with a dad like yours." Ryan gathered his thoughts and said carefully, "He yelled a lot and ... hit sometimes."
Ryan waited for a reaction. Ryan hoped he was wrong, that he read too much into what he'd seen by the field. That this kid didn't have scars or scars too deep to heal, ones like he had. Ryan's hands gestured in the air, trying to shape his feelings into words to convince Chester that he understood and cared.
"Maybe you think you deserved it? He was tired from work? Had too much to drink? But he's wrong about you; you're a great kid. If you need someone, I'm here. Just to talk maybe?"
With each question and comment Chester shook his head more violently. He whispered urgently, "You didn't see anything. Dad's.... You don't understand! There's my Mom and..." Chester's face was flush, and he pleaded, "You have to leave now."
Ryan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying words out in his mind first. Nothing seemed right but he said emotionally, "Are you afraid you'll get your dad in trouble? I swear we'll work it out." It was a promise to Chester and his younger self, and he didn't know how but he knew he would keep it.
Chester jumped out of his chair, his sixty-some pounds belligerently faced Ryan who startled and put his hands up in surrender but remained seated. Chester shouted, "What do you know? Everyone says you're just Chino trash. You don't know anything about us." Chester shoved Ryan deeper into his chair. The motion made Chester gasp for air. He tried to take a deep breath and doubled over in pain, clutching his side. He moaned.
Ryan gently guided Chester, still doubled over, back into a chair. Ryan was furious, a vein bulged on his forehead. He paced angrily, his hands clenching and unclenching. Berating himself he mumbled, "Damn it. Damn it. I should have come yesterday. I knew it!" He paused, rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily and looked at Chester.
Chester hung his head low and was whimpering quietly, an arm wrapped protectively against his side. Ryan took a slow, deep breath, exhaled, and calmly kneeled in front of Chester. Hoarsely he said, "Hey, I'm sorry Chester." Ryan closed his eyes and bowed his head near Chester's. They stayed that way until Chester regained some composure, enough to have a controlled shallow breath.
"That's right, breathe slowly. I think it's your ribs. They can't put a cast on it but some painkillers will help. If you don't move around it won't hurt as much. In a few weeks you'll be fine. I'm going to get Seth's dad now. Just to talk. We won't make you do anything you don't want."
Chester looked up, scared, but seemed to be in too much pain to argue. "I'll be right back," Ryan said and placed a hand on Chester's shoulder reassuringly.
As Ryan stood up, he came face-to-face with Mr. Moore.
Ryan was hungry; he'd skipped dinner last night. After assuring Seth that he was fine, it hadn't been hard to convince him to go visit Summer. Then Ryan had smoked the rest of his emergency only, backup cigarettes. He had briefly considered calling up Marissa but came to his senses in time. He wanted a distraction but not so badly he could pretend nothing had happened between them with Oliver. Sometime during a night of tossing in bed Ryan had decided to talk to Sandy in generalities. Then if it seemed like the right thing to do, he would tell Sandy the specifics of what he had seen between Chester and his dad.
The decision to talk to Sandy and the requisite beautiful Newport morning made problems seem manageable. Now Ryan was in his element. The bacon was sizzling, the coffee was hot, and the potatoes and onions were fried to perfection. He'd beaten the eggs and they were ready for the skillet. Cooking was a matter of timing and demanded his full attention so there was no time to dwell on other things. He prided himself on getting everything to the table hot.
"Hmm, is that bacon?" Kirsten asked entering the kitchen. She was still in her bathrobe.
Kirsten's question, after many weekends of Ryan's customary breakfasts, was rhetorical. He wiggled an egg in the air and raised his eyebrows in a question.
"Yes, please." Kirsten helped herself to a mug of coffee and settled herself at the counter.
While Ryan tended to the eggs at the stove, Kirsten looked on contently. After a few minutes he plated four strips of bacon, a token bite of potatoes, and scrambled eggs and placed it in front of Kirsten.
Kirsten smiled broadly. "Thanks, Ryan. Kind of quiet, we rarely have the kitchen to ourselves. A Saturday and Sandy's working early – he didn't even surf before going in!"
Ryan fixed himself a similar plate and returned the smile. "Seth has a sailing lesson."
Leisurely, they ate their breakfasts at the counter. Kirsten looked over work papers jotting down notes in the margins. Ryan read the Sports section. Occasionally an interesting article would cause him to pause thoughtfully, an empty fork poised against his lower lip.
Finished with the section, Ryan got up and went to top off his mug with fresh coffee. "I hope it's okay – this is the last of the French roast."
"That's Hailey's favorite. I'll pick up some more." Kirsten looked through the selection of bagels in the basket. "Bagel? There's sesame, salt, plain, and cinnamon."
"All flavors accounted for?" Ryan asked with mock incredulity. "Hailey really isn't around."
Kirsten smiled thinly. "It's been weeks and I haven't heard from her. I always thought, maybe naively, she could buy herself out of trouble. But this time she's tapped out her trust fund, Dad's cut her off, all her old friends are mad at her. Where is she going to live? What is she going to do for food?"
As Kristen listed each of Hailey's dilemmas her voice rose in anxiety. "Can you imagine being alone in the world with no plan, no money? " She frowned into the vague distance and twisted her coffee mug in her hands. Then realizing that Ryan probably could imagine just that, she looked at him apologetically. She uttered a soft, "Oh ..."
Ryan shrugged and busied himself with the coffee carafe, avoiding Kirsten's sympathetic looks. After an uncomfortable pause, he turned and looked directly at Kirsten and said thickly, "Hailey is lucky to have you guys." Ducking his head down he added, "I remember some names from her New Year's party I broke up if you want me to ask around ..."
"No. Absolutely not! Ryan, we are not going to do this again. You are sixteen and my sister is an adult no matter how irresponsible. I can't save her, you can't save her, only she can." More evenly she said, "Ryan, I didn't mean to make it your problem when I told you my worries. I'm sorry I dumped all this on you."
"No, of course. I was just offering to help. I wouldn't do anything without your okay." Kirsten forced Ryan to return her stern gaze until she was satisfied he knew how serious she was. Ryan tried to reassure Kirsten. "I ran away once, you learn to make do. Hailey is tough – she'll learn and be all right."
"I hope you're right. Hailey is like a kid." Kirsten paused as she spread cream cheese over part of a bagel, an amused expression crossed her face. "At least Seth was eight when he ran away. He made it down to the pier and the manager called me. But for three hours we were out of our minds."
"I lasted 3 days. I was ten, I think. Somebody noticed nobody was bringing in the mail, and made Mom get Trey to track me down." Ryan added sarcastically, "Well, at least I can say I tried to ditch her before she ditched me, huh?"
Kirsten looked at Ryan for a long moment as if considering carefully what to say. "Your mom ... when she and I talked that morning ... She loves you very much but thought she was doing the right thing. Sometimes loves means letting go, too." Kirsten paused again, and then said haltingly but adamantly, "Just know we love you here. You have a family - but we're your family now, too. We're in your corner." She gently admonished, "Only I don't ever want to be your cut man again."
Ryan's body was taut as he listened carefully to Kirsten, but only acknowledged the boxing reference with the slightest nod and faint smile. Kirsten continued, "I've always thought that if you knew with absolute certainty that someone supported you no matter what, you would be okay whatever the world throws your way. Mom was in our corner. I still feel her strength. She and Hailey look so much alike... I think Mom wasn't finished with Hailey yet. She died when Hailey was so young, still in high school."
"Do you really think if a kid knows someone is in his corner he'll be okay even if other parts of life are shit? There's some magical balance you can put situations on to decide whether he's okay or not? On one side his dad's an ass but on the other side his mom is Carol Brady, even trade-off? It's hard to ask somebody to choose between family and a few knocks..." Ryan stopped abruptly, surprised to be thinking aloud. "I'm sorry about – the language, the ..."
Kirsten looked confused, and she asked, "Ryan, what is this about?"
Ryan shrugged casually. "It's nothing, really."
Kirsten waited to encourage Ryan to elaborate. He didn't so she continued, "Well, what I meant was even though we knew Seth wasn't getting along in school, he knew we loved him. He told us what was going on, and we trusted that if it got to be too much he'd tell us. Or so we thought – talking never was a problem for him." She grimaced reconsidering, "But maybe we didn't have the right 'magical balance' and didn't see what he didn't want us to see. I didn't realize how unhappy he was until I saw how different he has been recently - since you've come."
"Seth's cool." Ryan was uncomfortable now and exaggerated his interest in the newspaper he already read.
Relenting to Ryan's desire to change the subject, Kirsten said, "Well, I hate to leave you boys alone two nights in a row, but we have a business dinner tonight. I would skip it except we have a big 'draw' coming up and all the principals will be at the dinner to be smoozed. I'll cook a special dinner soon."
"Is this the draw for completing the model home? Now a higher line of credit will be available for completing the other houses in the development, right?"
"Yes. Hey, you do know your stuff! I'll have to remember to take advantage of you, ask you to help out."
"Sure. Anything I can do to make up for - well, burning it down." Ryan looked sick with guilt. He decided it was his turn to change the subject. "They still haven't forgotten Thanksgiving dinner. So maybe I can help you with dinner?"
"Sandy was the one in charge of the turkey!" Kirsten replied hotly. Crossly she gathered up her papers and stood up. Then she sighed and said, "But it is nice being in the kitchen with you. Sometimes, it's impossible to get a word in with those two around."
Seth entered the kitchen in time to overhear their last remarks. "Mom, Ryan, mutes no longer! And what great voices. C'mon you guys, gimme a B flat to tune to. Beeee flaaaaat," he sang purposefully off key.
Kirsten looked faintly amused. "I thought you had a sailing lesson this morning. And you forgot the take out the trash last night."
"Mom, that's sharp. Chester cancelled." Seth was speaking to his mother but looked at Ryan who stared back intently.
Kirsten was oblivious to the tension. "Oh, little Chester. We're going to his house tonight. Dad and I are going to the Newport Better Business Bureau's annual dinner hosted by Chester's dad. I'll remember to ask about him."
XXXXXXXXXX
Kirsten, Seth and Ryan stood at the entrance to an imposing stone mansion.
Kirsten eyed them skeptically. "Something is up. Why are you boys coming to this banquet full of old people again?"
Seth said in a condescending tone, "Mother, Ryan is eager to learn the intricacies of better business bureau-ing. And of course he hopes to converse with Grandpa; both go-getters from modest means, they have a lot in common. Personally, I'm here for the crab and brie phyllo."
"Hmmm. I'm going to find out what is up. And I better like it. I hope Sandy gets here soon – maybe he can worm it out of you guys."
The door opened, and Kirsten was led away by an elegant woman.
Seth grabbed Ryan's jacket to stop him from following. "Okay, Ryan. I need your baby blues on me. Lock on, buddy."
Ryan narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Seth who continued, "We are here to check up on The Chester. You will not attack Mr. Moore or any other guest. Seriously, man, control is the key. Let's do this right for Chester ... and for you. The Oliver mess will not be repeated. I've got your six, okay?"
"I thought B flat was the key." Ryan deadpanned. Seth stared at him, pissed. "Yeah, yeah, okay, man. I am not going fight anybody or make a scene at another fancy party. I promise. I just need to see Chester, talk to your dad, and we'll leave. Go have Balboa bars at the pier."
Seth nodded and gestured for Ryan to step ahead of him into the house.
They entered and surveyed more than fifty or so members of the Newport Business Bureau and their spouses in a large living room. The room opened on one side to an even larger formal dining room. The décor was traditional: dark mahogany furniture, floral upholstered sofas, and morose landscape paintings. As Kirsten predicted, the demographic was skewed toward the Viagra and Talbot set. Groups of older men with a sprinkling of women milled about with drinks in their hands.
Seth and Ryan scanned the crowd for Chester and his dad without luck. "My best guess, Ryan, is that Chester's hanging outside. The folks will make him do the dog and pony show at some point so he's nearby. He's going to want to be near the food and abandoned cocktails." Seth walked toward the back of the room, weaving his way through the people. Ryan followed close behind.
A man reached out and clamped Seth's shoulders. "Hi, Seth! This is a surprise; Kiki never tells me anything." Turning to the others he said, "Fellows meet my grandson. He's rearing to take over the commercial sector." Caleb and two distinguished men chuckled appropriately.
The men shook Seth's hand and asked him questions. "Are you considering Berkeley, son? You know you can learn a lot from you grandfather, don't you?"
"Yes thank you, kind robber barons. Please excuse us. Ryan and I are needed to help set up the, umm, thing in the backyard. They have this big – thing – planned for after the ceremonies. You'll really love it."
"Hey, hey, not so fast." Caleb held Seth firmly by the elbow. He looked at Ryan with mild disdain, "You can go around back and help. Seth's needed to talk shop." Seth was trapped and looked at Ryan helplessly.
Ryan nodded politely to group, grinned at Seth's pained expression, and walked away.
He stood quietly just outside the doorway and scanned the backyard. No other guest was tempted by the outdoors. The back patio was similar to the Cohens' but looked down onto the bright lights of the city below instead of the ocean. An organic free-formed shaped pool and an impressive barbeque area were lit by strings of multi-colored lights and lanterned candles
Chester was sitting quietly by the table near the grill. He was in a dark suit. As Ryan walked slowly toward Chester, he cleared his throat in warning.
Chester surreptitiously dropped a cigarette on the ground and covered it with his shoe. Chester hunched deeper into his jacket but did not otherwise acknowledge Ryan.
"Hey. Okay if I hang out here?" Without waiting for a reply, Ryan sat down next to Chester. Neither spoke nor moved for long moments. But Chester's eyes darted around considering escape routes.
Ryan openly looked over Chester for injuries. There were no bruises on his face, but Chester's breathing was shallow and quick and there was a light film of sweat on his brow. Ryan wasn't sure if there was anything physically the matter with Chester, but Chester was definitely jumpy. "I'm ... a friend, a good friend of Seth's. He said you missed sailing today so he asked me to see if you were all right. You okay?"
Chester ventured a quick, worried glance at Ryan.
Ryan tried again with forced boisterousness, "Seth says you are a pretty good sailor; maybe the three of us can take the big scow out. I'm pretty awful but I can be the rail meat, huh?" Ryan self-consciously laughed at his own expense. "But you guys will help me out, right? 'Cause that's what friends do."
There was no reaction from Chester.
Ryan sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned forward in his chair. Chester flinched and drew back slightly at Ryan's movement, then his worry was masked again by suspicion. "Chester, throw me a bone. I'm not good with words or kids. How are you, man?"
Without looking up Chester offered in a small nervous voice, "They needed help setting up the, umm, thing, so I had to miss sailing. Tell Seth I'm fine. You can go now."
"Setting up the thing, huh? I can see why you and Seth get along."
"Kaitlyn says you're Seth's foster brother." With a mix of awe and fear Chester stammered, "Sh-she said you stole a car and burned down a house." Chester warily watched out of the corner of his eye to see what Ryan's reaction would be.
Happy for any dialogue with Chester, Ryan conceded, "Kaitlyn's kind of right. You're friends with Kaitlyn huh?"
Sadly, he said, "She doesn't like me much. But I heard them talking. She doesn't sail because she might get wet. I bet the scow is big enough not to list and take on water ..."
"Yeah, maybe we can all go. I've babysaa - I mean - hung out with Marissa and her sister before. I could ask Kaitlyn to come."
"No Kaitlyn hates you, but she might go if Marissa goes." Then Chester shook his head pessimistically and added, "but I doubt it."
Ryan hated to interrupt Chester's daydreaming but he could see that the living room was thinning out. In a short time, Chester would have to go join the other diners. Ryan spoke forcefully, "I want to talk to you about what I saw by the field. I grew up with a dad like yours." Ryan gathered his thoughts and said carefully, "He yelled a lot and ... hit sometimes."
Ryan waited for a reaction. Ryan hoped he was wrong, that he read too much into what he'd seen by the field. That this kid didn't have scars or scars too deep to heal, ones like he had. Ryan's hands gestured in the air, trying to shape his feelings into words to convince Chester that he understood and cared.
"Maybe you think you deserved it? He was tired from work? Had too much to drink? But he's wrong about you; you're a great kid. If you need someone, I'm here. Just to talk maybe?"
With each question and comment Chester shook his head more violently. He whispered urgently, "You didn't see anything. Dad's.... You don't understand! There's my Mom and..." Chester's face was flush, and he pleaded, "You have to leave now."
Ryan opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying words out in his mind first. Nothing seemed right but he said emotionally, "Are you afraid you'll get your dad in trouble? I swear we'll work it out." It was a promise to Chester and his younger self, and he didn't know how but he knew he would keep it.
Chester jumped out of his chair, his sixty-some pounds belligerently faced Ryan who startled and put his hands up in surrender but remained seated. Chester shouted, "What do you know? Everyone says you're just Chino trash. You don't know anything about us." Chester shoved Ryan deeper into his chair. The motion made Chester gasp for air. He tried to take a deep breath and doubled over in pain, clutching his side. He moaned.
Ryan gently guided Chester, still doubled over, back into a chair. Ryan was furious, a vein bulged on his forehead. He paced angrily, his hands clenching and unclenching. Berating himself he mumbled, "Damn it. Damn it. I should have come yesterday. I knew it!" He paused, rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily and looked at Chester.
Chester hung his head low and was whimpering quietly, an arm wrapped protectively against his side. Ryan took a slow, deep breath, exhaled, and calmly kneeled in front of Chester. Hoarsely he said, "Hey, I'm sorry Chester." Ryan closed his eyes and bowed his head near Chester's. They stayed that way until Chester regained some composure, enough to have a controlled shallow breath.
"That's right, breathe slowly. I think it's your ribs. They can't put a cast on it but some painkillers will help. If you don't move around it won't hurt as much. In a few weeks you'll be fine. I'm going to get Seth's dad now. Just to talk. We won't make you do anything you don't want."
Chester looked up, scared, but seemed to be in too much pain to argue. "I'll be right back," Ryan said and placed a hand on Chester's shoulder reassuringly.
As Ryan stood up, he came face-to-face with Mr. Moore.