Same disclaimers as always. Ratticus foisted off legal duties on Jeremiah
and his partner Tad.
Chapter Four
Summer listened to the messages Seth left the day before. It was now 7am. Too early to decide if she should call back. All the messages said the same thing. He needed to talk to her. She fumed as she replayed all 6 of Seth's frantic pleas. His voice was desperate. This whole thing was crazy. Cohen was crazy. Ryan? She had doubts about his sanity after living with the Cohens for the last year.
She had barely spoken with another guy since Seth stood on the coffee cart in the student union at Harbour and declared his affection for her. Well, there was Chino, but he was like, Seth's brother. When they drove to the comic book stores for Seth's present, Ryan didn't string more than 4 or 5 words together at a time. She'd had more in-depth conversations with stroke patients when she candy-striped at the hospital.
The only one in her fantasies was a tall, skinny, curly haired, ½ gentile, needs to go to "jewschool" for conversion classes, adorable schmuck that was going to fulfill her dreams of becoming a Shiksa goddess. Seth Cohen was the first boy she had sex with and she was going to make damn sure he was her last. No ass-hat fuckwit was going to ruin her good thing. She would make sure Cohen groveled before she let him off the hook and tell him things were still okay between them and she'd forgive his sudden loss of brain cells. First things first, though. She needed to talk to Ryan. Then she'd talk to Seth... Maybe.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan made his bed and folded his dirty clothes, placing them in the bottom of the locker. Closing the door, he snapped the lock shut and deposited the key in his pocket. He thought about skipping breakfast, but knew he needed something to keep him going while he looked for work.
Don't think.... You can get through the next hour. One hour.... 60 minutes.... 3600 seconds... Don't think... Don't think...
The dining room was surprisingly full, considering there were maybe 12 people staying during the night. Ryan lined up for breakfast, avoiding eye contact. The line moved quickly and soon Ryan found an empty table in the far corner
Captain Matthews spotted Ryan. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair opposite the youth.
"Good morning, Marty..."
"'Morning..." Ryan mumbled, barely glancing at the Captain before he went back to moving the food around his plate.
"Roger told me you had a restless night. Is your head bothering you? We have a nurse on staff that can take a look at your eye..."
Ryan looked up again. Roger? Who the hell was Roger?
"'s okay." He pointed to the left side of his face. "Doesn't bother me..."
Ryan played with the day old muffin, no doubt donated by a local bakery. The way Ryan had said "Doesn't bother me," told the Captain that this probably wasn't the first time the young man had a bruise like that.
"What brings you to Carmichael?"
Ryan shrugged.
"Seems as good a place as any to look for work..."
"What kind of work are you looking for?
Ryan gave up all pretense of eating and pushed the plate away.
"Construction... Anything, really..."
"Any experience?"
Ryan finally made eye contact with the man.
"Framing mostly. I've done some roofing, did a lot of digging, hauled a lot of mortar for the brickies..."
Neither spoke for a few moments. Captain Matthews rose from the chair.
"I can make a couple of phone calls. I've got some friends in the trades. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah... That would be great... Thanks..."
Ryan looked back down at the table.
"You'd better finish your breakfast. Cory can't stand to see food wasted. If she finds out you didn't eat she'll pick a book out of the Old Testament and beat you with it. She's quite fond of Judges..."
Okay, it wasn't his best attempt at humour, but he hoped for some sort of reaction from Marty.
Ryan pulled the plate towards him and broke off a piece of muffin.
"21? If that boy is 21, then I sold tickets to The Last Supper" the Captain thought to himself.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Restructuring The Newport Group was time consuming, tedious, more complicated than it should have been and the last thing on Kirsten's mind. Ryan had been missing four days now and even John Rueben now believed Ryan wasn't in Newport anymore. He hadn't used his cell phone, he hadn't withdrawn anymore money. $300. He couldn't have gotten far on $300. How was he living? Where was he living? She was going to make his life a living hell when he got back home; after she gave him a long hug or two... or three. She briefly entertained the thought of ripping off his arm and beating him with it for scaring her so badly...
She shook her head, trying to focus on settlement offers and new contracts but her mind kept going back to a sandy-haired, blue eyed boy who'd stolen her heart.
"Please Lord, bring Ryan home to us..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy spent every spare moment looking for Ryan. He had driven to Chino, but that turned out to be a dead end. Theresa hadn't heard from Ryan since she and Eddie were married. Sandy looked for him at the places Theresa said he used to hang out, but there was no sign of him. Ryan had never spoken of any friends he had other than Arturo, Theresa and Eddie. Sandy was positive that she was telling the truth when she told him that she hadn't seen him. Theresa promised that she would call if Ryan showed up.
Sandy pulled off onto a side street and stopped the car. He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Guilt reared its ugly head again. He looked at Ryan's backpack, sitting on the seat beside him. He didn't know why he brought it with him, only that he felt he needed too. It was his hairshirt.
What the fuck had he been thinking attacking Ryan like that?
He saw Seth charge at Ryan.
He saw Ryan step back.
He saw Ryan put his hands up in self defense.
He saw himself grabbing Ryan.
Hitting him.
Not pulling his punch.
Hitting a boy who had been hit his entire life.
Hitting a boy he promised to protect.
Hitting a boy who didn't hit back.
Hitting a boy and hearing the sickening sound of flesh and bone impacting on flesh and bone.
Hitting a boy and then watching his very essence crumble.
After everything Ryan had lived through and survived, he was the one who succeeded in breaking Ryan's spirit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seth lay face down on his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He hardly left his room during the last 96 hours. Summer had yet to call back. He had tried calling Ryan, but it was obvious he'd either turned the cell phone off or dumped it somewhere. He desperately wanted to drive around with his dad and look for Ryan, but the fear of possibly having to face him kept Seth holed up in his room.
He knew he was being stupid.
This whole thing was stupid.
His own stupidity was at the root of all of this.
He believed that Ryan could have done this to him.
Stupid.
He believed Summer could have done this to him.
Stupid.
He believed Marissa's story of seeing Ryan and Summer together.
Stupid... Stupid... Stupid.
Seth rolled over and pushed himself up to a seated position. He picked up the phone, contemplating calling Summer. He nearly dropped it when it let out a shrill ring.
Caller ID.
Summer.
It rang three times before he had the courage to answer it.
"S-Summer.... I'm really..."
"Can it Cohen. I want to speak to Ryan."
"He's not... I, uh...
Summer turned up the snark factor.
"I'm not speaking to you Cohen. Get Chino on the phone..."
"He's not here... We don't know where he is..."
There was a moment of dead air.
"What do you mean you don't know where he is? He lives with you. You guys pretty much adopted him..."
Summer could hear Seth lose his composure.
"I don't ... We... I... we had a fight... before you got here the other night and..."
"He's been gone for 4 days?" Summer questioned softly. Not waiting for an answer she finished. "I'll be over in a few minutes. When this is over and everything is normal again Cohen, I'm going to kick your ass..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Marissa stared blankly at the tv screen, aimlessly changing channels. She reached forward and brought her glass of Stoli and cranberry juice to her lips. For the last 3 nights she had been partying at Holly's beach house. She was trapped in her vodka fueled "ennui". That's what her mother called it. Ennui. What a fucking idiotic word. It was Julie's new expression. Two weeks in France and Julie Cooper Nichol thought she could buy class and status. She thought she could marry into it, not once but twice. Just like a boy from Chino thought he'd stop being white trash because he was living in his lawyer's rich wife's house. Marissa giggled to herself.
He's not living there now.
She turned the tv off and got up from the couch. Holly had another "thing" happening tonight.
No sense in sobering up now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy threw his keys on the counter and put Ryan's backpack in the dining room. Returning to the kitchen he reached into a cabinet, pulled out his bottle of Glenfidditch and poured 2 fingers into a glass filled with ice.
He stared at the amber liquid.
A fine single malt scotch.
Better than fine.
The way he felt at that moment was that he needed this first-rate example of grain distillery.
A need, an ache, a craving, a desire, a hunger, a longing, lusting, yearning.
Wanting to crawl inside the bottle and forget the damage he'd caused.
Needing to forget the damage he'd caused.
Sandy didn't notice Kirsten watching him. He didn't notice the worry etched in her face. He took one last look at the drink that was now calling his name.
Inviting him, flirting with him, tempting him.
Sandy picked up the glass and drained the contents into the sink. As he returned the bottle to the top shelf on the cabinet, Kirsten slipped out of the kitchen, relieved at the choice he made and the small victory won.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was nearly 7pm when Ryan returned to the shelter. He spent the day at the employment agency and followed up on a couple of prospects. Lack of a phone or an address would make it difficult for potential employers to get a hold of him. Ryan wouldn't use the Cohen's cell phone and was uneasy letting anyone know he was staying at the Men's Mission. He'd have to check back in person in a couple of days to see if anything panned out.
A large stocky blond haired man with a nose that looked like it had been on the receiving end of a closed fist one too many times was seated behind the front desk. Ryan looked at him nervously.
"I'm uh,.... I'm Marty.... I'm staying here... um... Upstairs.
The man stood up. Large was an understatement.
"I'm Roger Van Der Hylsma. I'll be holding down the fort tonight. Mark will be up in the corridor tonight. You can see him or come to me if you need anything.
"Thanks" Ryan said quietly. Now he knew who Roger was and what the noises and shadows were outside his room. He t ried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since that morning.
The sounds didn't escape Roger.
"Cory left a plate for you in the fridge. Go get cleaned up and I'll heat it for you."
Ryan opened up his locker. It had been searched. At least his things were put back in some semblance of order. The pockets of the dirty jeans in the bottom of the pile had been turned inside out.
He sighed.
He had no expectation of privacy in a shelter.
He took the cell phone out of his front pocket and hid it in the pile of dirty clothes. As much as he would never use it, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Maybe tomorrow.
An envelope on the top shelf caught his eye.
Ryan opened it and read.
Marty, Be nice to Roger. He's your new boss. You start Monday. Captain Jim.
Two days.... 48 hours closer to his new start.
Chapter Four
Summer listened to the messages Seth left the day before. It was now 7am. Too early to decide if she should call back. All the messages said the same thing. He needed to talk to her. She fumed as she replayed all 6 of Seth's frantic pleas. His voice was desperate. This whole thing was crazy. Cohen was crazy. Ryan? She had doubts about his sanity after living with the Cohens for the last year.
She had barely spoken with another guy since Seth stood on the coffee cart in the student union at Harbour and declared his affection for her. Well, there was Chino, but he was like, Seth's brother. When they drove to the comic book stores for Seth's present, Ryan didn't string more than 4 or 5 words together at a time. She'd had more in-depth conversations with stroke patients when she candy-striped at the hospital.
The only one in her fantasies was a tall, skinny, curly haired, ½ gentile, needs to go to "jewschool" for conversion classes, adorable schmuck that was going to fulfill her dreams of becoming a Shiksa goddess. Seth Cohen was the first boy she had sex with and she was going to make damn sure he was her last. No ass-hat fuckwit was going to ruin her good thing. She would make sure Cohen groveled before she let him off the hook and tell him things were still okay between them and she'd forgive his sudden loss of brain cells. First things first, though. She needed to talk to Ryan. Then she'd talk to Seth... Maybe.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan made his bed and folded his dirty clothes, placing them in the bottom of the locker. Closing the door, he snapped the lock shut and deposited the key in his pocket. He thought about skipping breakfast, but knew he needed something to keep him going while he looked for work.
Don't think.... You can get through the next hour. One hour.... 60 minutes.... 3600 seconds... Don't think... Don't think...
The dining room was surprisingly full, considering there were maybe 12 people staying during the night. Ryan lined up for breakfast, avoiding eye contact. The line moved quickly and soon Ryan found an empty table in the far corner
Captain Matthews spotted Ryan. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair opposite the youth.
"Good morning, Marty..."
"'Morning..." Ryan mumbled, barely glancing at the Captain before he went back to moving the food around his plate.
"Roger told me you had a restless night. Is your head bothering you? We have a nurse on staff that can take a look at your eye..."
Ryan looked up again. Roger? Who the hell was Roger?
"'s okay." He pointed to the left side of his face. "Doesn't bother me..."
Ryan played with the day old muffin, no doubt donated by a local bakery. The way Ryan had said "Doesn't bother me," told the Captain that this probably wasn't the first time the young man had a bruise like that.
"What brings you to Carmichael?"
Ryan shrugged.
"Seems as good a place as any to look for work..."
"What kind of work are you looking for?
Ryan gave up all pretense of eating and pushed the plate away.
"Construction... Anything, really..."
"Any experience?"
Ryan finally made eye contact with the man.
"Framing mostly. I've done some roofing, did a lot of digging, hauled a lot of mortar for the brickies..."
Neither spoke for a few moments. Captain Matthews rose from the chair.
"I can make a couple of phone calls. I've got some friends in the trades. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah... That would be great... Thanks..."
Ryan looked back down at the table.
"You'd better finish your breakfast. Cory can't stand to see food wasted. If she finds out you didn't eat she'll pick a book out of the Old Testament and beat you with it. She's quite fond of Judges..."
Okay, it wasn't his best attempt at humour, but he hoped for some sort of reaction from Marty.
Ryan pulled the plate towards him and broke off a piece of muffin.
"21? If that boy is 21, then I sold tickets to The Last Supper" the Captain thought to himself.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Restructuring The Newport Group was time consuming, tedious, more complicated than it should have been and the last thing on Kirsten's mind. Ryan had been missing four days now and even John Rueben now believed Ryan wasn't in Newport anymore. He hadn't used his cell phone, he hadn't withdrawn anymore money. $300. He couldn't have gotten far on $300. How was he living? Where was he living? She was going to make his life a living hell when he got back home; after she gave him a long hug or two... or three. She briefly entertained the thought of ripping off his arm and beating him with it for scaring her so badly...
She shook her head, trying to focus on settlement offers and new contracts but her mind kept going back to a sandy-haired, blue eyed boy who'd stolen her heart.
"Please Lord, bring Ryan home to us..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy spent every spare moment looking for Ryan. He had driven to Chino, but that turned out to be a dead end. Theresa hadn't heard from Ryan since she and Eddie were married. Sandy looked for him at the places Theresa said he used to hang out, but there was no sign of him. Ryan had never spoken of any friends he had other than Arturo, Theresa and Eddie. Sandy was positive that she was telling the truth when she told him that she hadn't seen him. Theresa promised that she would call if Ryan showed up.
Sandy pulled off onto a side street and stopped the car. He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Guilt reared its ugly head again. He looked at Ryan's backpack, sitting on the seat beside him. He didn't know why he brought it with him, only that he felt he needed too. It was his hairshirt.
What the fuck had he been thinking attacking Ryan like that?
He saw Seth charge at Ryan.
He saw Ryan step back.
He saw Ryan put his hands up in self defense.
He saw himself grabbing Ryan.
Hitting him.
Not pulling his punch.
Hitting a boy who had been hit his entire life.
Hitting a boy he promised to protect.
Hitting a boy who didn't hit back.
Hitting a boy and hearing the sickening sound of flesh and bone impacting on flesh and bone.
Hitting a boy and then watching his very essence crumble.
After everything Ryan had lived through and survived, he was the one who succeeded in breaking Ryan's spirit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seth lay face down on his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He hardly left his room during the last 96 hours. Summer had yet to call back. He had tried calling Ryan, but it was obvious he'd either turned the cell phone off or dumped it somewhere. He desperately wanted to drive around with his dad and look for Ryan, but the fear of possibly having to face him kept Seth holed up in his room.
He knew he was being stupid.
This whole thing was stupid.
His own stupidity was at the root of all of this.
He believed that Ryan could have done this to him.
Stupid.
He believed Summer could have done this to him.
Stupid.
He believed Marissa's story of seeing Ryan and Summer together.
Stupid... Stupid... Stupid.
Seth rolled over and pushed himself up to a seated position. He picked up the phone, contemplating calling Summer. He nearly dropped it when it let out a shrill ring.
Caller ID.
Summer.
It rang three times before he had the courage to answer it.
"S-Summer.... I'm really..."
"Can it Cohen. I want to speak to Ryan."
"He's not... I, uh...
Summer turned up the snark factor.
"I'm not speaking to you Cohen. Get Chino on the phone..."
"He's not here... We don't know where he is..."
There was a moment of dead air.
"What do you mean you don't know where he is? He lives with you. You guys pretty much adopted him..."
Summer could hear Seth lose his composure.
"I don't ... We... I... we had a fight... before you got here the other night and..."
"He's been gone for 4 days?" Summer questioned softly. Not waiting for an answer she finished. "I'll be over in a few minutes. When this is over and everything is normal again Cohen, I'm going to kick your ass..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Marissa stared blankly at the tv screen, aimlessly changing channels. She reached forward and brought her glass of Stoli and cranberry juice to her lips. For the last 3 nights she had been partying at Holly's beach house. She was trapped in her vodka fueled "ennui". That's what her mother called it. Ennui. What a fucking idiotic word. It was Julie's new expression. Two weeks in France and Julie Cooper Nichol thought she could buy class and status. She thought she could marry into it, not once but twice. Just like a boy from Chino thought he'd stop being white trash because he was living in his lawyer's rich wife's house. Marissa giggled to herself.
He's not living there now.
She turned the tv off and got up from the couch. Holly had another "thing" happening tonight.
No sense in sobering up now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy threw his keys on the counter and put Ryan's backpack in the dining room. Returning to the kitchen he reached into a cabinet, pulled out his bottle of Glenfidditch and poured 2 fingers into a glass filled with ice.
He stared at the amber liquid.
A fine single malt scotch.
Better than fine.
The way he felt at that moment was that he needed this first-rate example of grain distillery.
A need, an ache, a craving, a desire, a hunger, a longing, lusting, yearning.
Wanting to crawl inside the bottle and forget the damage he'd caused.
Needing to forget the damage he'd caused.
Sandy didn't notice Kirsten watching him. He didn't notice the worry etched in her face. He took one last look at the drink that was now calling his name.
Inviting him, flirting with him, tempting him.
Sandy picked up the glass and drained the contents into the sink. As he returned the bottle to the top shelf on the cabinet, Kirsten slipped out of the kitchen, relieved at the choice he made and the small victory won.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was nearly 7pm when Ryan returned to the shelter. He spent the day at the employment agency and followed up on a couple of prospects. Lack of a phone or an address would make it difficult for potential employers to get a hold of him. Ryan wouldn't use the Cohen's cell phone and was uneasy letting anyone know he was staying at the Men's Mission. He'd have to check back in person in a couple of days to see if anything panned out.
A large stocky blond haired man with a nose that looked like it had been on the receiving end of a closed fist one too many times was seated behind the front desk. Ryan looked at him nervously.
"I'm uh,.... I'm Marty.... I'm staying here... um... Upstairs.
The man stood up. Large was an understatement.
"I'm Roger Van Der Hylsma. I'll be holding down the fort tonight. Mark will be up in the corridor tonight. You can see him or come to me if you need anything.
"Thanks" Ryan said quietly. Now he knew who Roger was and what the noises and shadows were outside his room. He t ried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since that morning.
The sounds didn't escape Roger.
"Cory left a plate for you in the fridge. Go get cleaned up and I'll heat it for you."
Ryan opened up his locker. It had been searched. At least his things were put back in some semblance of order. The pockets of the dirty jeans in the bottom of the pile had been turned inside out.
He sighed.
He had no expectation of privacy in a shelter.
He took the cell phone out of his front pocket and hid it in the pile of dirty clothes. As much as he would never use it, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Maybe tomorrow.
An envelope on the top shelf caught his eye.
Ryan opened it and read.
Marty, Be nice to Roger. He's your new boss. You start Monday. Captain Jim.
Two days.... 48 hours closer to his new start.