Chapter 3

Ryan looked at the slip of paper again to make sure he had the right place. This house had seen better days; it had weeds for a lawn, and only the faintest coat of paint on its stucco facade. And yet he hoped it was the right house because it was a lovely1930s California bungalow. The gable that hung over the wide front porch was supported by distinctive heavy posts, each easily two feet wide at their bases and tapered at their tops. Since he had read about them in an architecture book, he had wanted to see one up close.

The ten miles from the Crab Shack were long, but the route wasn't as steep as the ride to the old Cohen house. The house, about three blocks from a main commercial road, was in a working class part of town. After a year of living in a home with a maid, an ocean view, and a pool house, Ryan saw things differently. At Theresa's last summer, he noticed the trashy yards, the noisy kids, and the people drinking and hanging out in the front of the house. Things he never thought twice about because he they were always there. This neighborhood wasn't the worst he had lived in, yet he couldn't imagine the Cohens here. The Cohens, especially Kirsten and Seth, had never lived somewhere like this, and he worried about how the place seemed to them.

Ryan wheeled his bike through the weedy lawn and up onto the porch. He locked his chain through the bike wheel and frame but knew he needed a better system for the night.

He knocked, but the door was unlocked. He opened it to enter directly into the living room. Seth was lying on the sofa that seemed too large for the small room. His body moved to music only he heard on headphones.

Ryan slammed the door.

Seth sat up quickly and bent to the nearest box. "No luck in this box either, Mom." He turned his head. "Oh, hey, Ryan. Just in time for the heavy lifting." He looked at the stacks of boxes lined against the fireplace.

"Sorry. I got here as quickly as I could but it was a madhouse at the Crab Shack. I guess you couldn't get away to pick me up?"

"Oh, yeah… It's mad here." Seth's hands pawed the air and he sniffed the air. "We're like rats in a small cage. I think Mom is crying over a closet upstairs."

Ryan stretched his back. It had been a busy shift followed by a long bike ride. "Give me the grand tour."

"You can see most of it from where you stand. A microscopic kitchen is behind this dingy dining alcove – I use the word 'alcove' loosely." Seth stepped through an archway to the dining area.

Ryan inspected everything eagerly, craning his neck to see the simple wooden trim and crouching down to touch the furniture. He explained as he went along. "These bungalows have most of the living spaces on one floor. We're lucky this has an upstairs. And see how there are built-in features like this bookshelf?" Ryan scratched the shelf with the edge of a quarter. "Wow, I think it's maple under this paint. They thought to make the most of small spaces - no hallways, one room opens into the next."

Seth looked bored as Ryan walked into the kitchen. Boxes were partly unpacked, and there were some plates sitting in an open cabinet. The old Formica laminate countertop was worn through in a number of spots. The oven was one of the worst he'd seen, and the walls were filthy. But the wooden floors were remarkably well preserved, and a coat of paint would be easy. He turned on the stovetop and lights. They worked. "Too bad the fixtures aren't originals, and some of the trim is missing. But it's cozy," he said.

Seth complained, "Cozy? How many euphemisms are there for tiny?"

"I've been in much, much worse."

"Merit badge for you," Seth murmured. He walked back to the living room and pointed to two doors to the left of the front door. "There are two bedrooms on this floor, shrimp and amoeba sized." They walked past the bedroom doors toward the back of the house. "Mom made me wait for you before moving in."

"Take the bigger. I don't mind."

"Mighty big of you, bro. Most of my stuff is already there. Thanks," Seth said happily.

Kirsten came down the staircase, smiling. She wore jeans and a faded sweatshirt, but still looked too nice to be standing in this shabby home.

"Seth, you're not bullying Ryan into getting the bigger bedroom. I'll think of a number and you guys can guess it," Kirsten said.

"Better idea." Ryan took a quarter from his pocket and tossed it in the air. He caught the quarter, held it covered on the back of his hand, and looked at Seth.

"Primo geniture should be the ruling law here. I am older biologically and have seniority in his family."

"Seth Ezekiel." Kirsten said admonishingly.

"Okay, okay." He glared at them. "Tails." He paused. "No, wait. Heads."

Ryan lifted his hand. "Heads," he read and quickly pocketed the quarter.

Kirsten looked at him suspiciously but didn't say anything. Seth raised his fists in victory.

Ryan and Kirsten ignored him. "Great house. How did you guys get this?"

"The Newport Group gets properties by default sometimes. This is all they have right now. I wish there were more storage space." Kirsten opened the door under the staircase.

"Hey, Ryan." Seth nodded significantly after peeking in the door.

Ryan gave him a questioning look.

"The ultimate, magical Harry Potter experience …"

Ryan glared at Seth. "I'm not sleeping there."

"Kidding. Are we too broke to joke?"

Kirsten added, "If it's a closet, it is magical so it's mine."

"Mom made a not-so-funny."

Kirsten gave him a look and said, "Mom is going to magic wand our elfin kitchen – you're helping me to clean it tomorrow."

"And another not-so-funny. Plus a bonus point for the small euphemism," Seth said as he walked to his new bedroom.

An hour later Ryan had his essentials unpacked. His bed took up most of the space in his room, but it was made. Enough clothes for the next few days were sorted into the small bureau under the window. A wall of unopened boxes still stood in his room. The boxes had Ryan's name on them but they held Seth's things.

He walked beyond the staircase closet to the only full bath in the house. He took a quick shower. The water pressure was good but the temperature was tepid as he finished.

He tiptoed toward to his room, holding a towel wrapped around his waist and his dirty clothes in his other hand.

"Oh!" Kirsten exclaimed on her way to the stairs.

Ryan turned red, ducked his head, and flattened his back to the wall. "Sorry, I ..."

"Right. Get Ryan a robe. This wasn't a problem in the old house," Kirsten said as she scurried past him and up the stairs.

As he put on fresh clothes, he heard particularly mournful music coming out of Seth's room. The walls in this house were thin. He went to Seth's room. It was bigger by a third than his room with windows facing the front and side of the house. Seth's bed was bare, but his stereo system and computer were hooked up. He was in the middle of sorting books.

Ryan leaned against the doorframe. "Seth, you want to do something?"

"Yes. I'd like to sail away in the Summer's Breeze. But hey, I did that already. I want to swim in my pool. But wait, strangers are in it." He shook his head glumly. "How about we wake up from this nightmare?"

Ryan sat on the floor and leaned his back against a wall. "I was thinking more like checking out the neighborhood."

"Don't bother, I already did while you were at work."

"Yeah? And?"

"Ryan, it feels weird here. No gates, people can just walk right up to our house," Seth said as if the idea surprised him. He looked away sheepishly. "I don't really remember Berkeley as much as I say."

"It seems like an okay place. I noticed a park nearby. We could play hoops."

"Ryan, white men, especially short and Jewish white men, can't jump. Besides I've reverted to form; another seventeen years as a shut-in begin now."

Ryan looked at him skeptically. "Even if there's a party with crazy honeys?"

Seth sneered. "I'd probably get the Rover trashed again."

Ryan continued, "People here can be cool. Unlike the polo crowd, they fight over money and some fucked-up ideas about honor. But everyone will leave you alone if you leave them alone."

"That's not exactly true."

Ryan raised his eyebrows.

"I was minding my own business in the park… Waxing a bench in the park counts as that, right?" Seth looked up guiltily and continued before Ryan could answer. "What kinda place is this where I can't wax up to practice some board tricks? Two guys came by. I stopped when they told me to." Seth chewed his lip.

Ryan leaned forward attentively. "What did they say exactly? Do you know their names?"

Seth didn't reply to any of the questions. He raised his tee-shirt. A small bruise to his side was green and yellow.

"Damn it, Seth." Ryan closed his eyes for a second to try to stay calm. They were here less than a day and already someone was hurt.

"Starksy and Hutch. No, no names. A tall black guy and a younger white kid. One of them hit me as a way of introduction. Actually, it was more of a punching shove away from the bench than an actual punch. I apologized and explained to him I didn't mean any harm, and they seemed okay. Do you think that's the end of it? Those guys have better things to think about, right?" Seth asked anxiously.

"Yeah," Ryan said with more confidence than he had. "Tell me more about them." Maybe if he got a better description he could tell where those guys were coming from – local guys protecting their turf or if they were affiliated with a known gang.

"I'm not talking about it anymore. I am in denial. I can only handle so much trauma at once. Leaving my crib is enough." Seth poked at this side gingerly. "I thought I could get a fresh start here. Just like I thought middle school would be different from elementary. And high school from middle. Damn, I'm dumb. There are always new sets of rules to learn and I never figured out the first set."

Ryan frowned but he could tell by Seth's posture he was serious about not talking about it. Maybe Seth was right; the guys just wanted Seth to keep off their stuff. "You sailed away on a catamaran last summer. You lived in Portland. You can grill," Ryan pointed out.

"From fancy marina to marina, to my equally upper-middle class friend's house, with Mommy and Daddy's plastic in my pocket. Not that I was a poseur..." Seth stood up and went over to change the music. Another band's song came on that Ryan didn't recognize.

"I confess I kind of liked being upper middle class. I know, you're thinking: but Seth, you've memorized the Communist Manifesto. Seth you have street cred! You're down with the people," Seth said in a sarcastic, comic voice as if he were tired of the adulations.

Seth drew himself up and pointed a finger into the air. "Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Workers of the world, unite!"

"I always knew you were a capitalist pig. The speech would be more authentic with a German accent."

"Ryan, I'm like Nemo in the open ocean, E.T. on a strange planet, Alice down the hole. I like me - a lot. I don't know if you know that about me or not. But say goodbye to the old charming Seth. Animals adapt to survive; I'll have to change to make it here. Get the eye of the tiger."

Privately Ryan thought it might be best if he hung around with Seth, showed him a few things, and made sure there weren't any more misunderstandings. "We'll watch out for each other, dude. No worries. Let's just lay low with the skateboard for a while. Besides, I'm still my wonderful, charming self after being in Newport a year, aren't I?" Ryan smiled his most charming smile.

"And now you with a funny? I'm definitely in Wonderland. Wait, here's a perfect song that fits this feeling of not fitting in your this world. If I could only find my Bright Eyes." Seth stopped the music, and flipped through a stack of CDs.

Sandy and Kirsten's voices could be heard upstairs. Sandy must have returned while Ryan was in the shower.

"I don't want to get into it again!" Kirsten's voice was angry. "I'm tired and filthy after cleaning all day."

"Let's trade then. I'll stay home, put away the teacups and sheets while you work a soul-sapping job. I saved a zillionaire a few million today, probably so he can go on to pollute Mother Earth some more."

There was a pause before Sandy continued. "There's no guarantee on what will happen with the D.A.'s case; it's an informal understanding and the judge hasn't blessed anything yet. I have dipped into my well of influence with the D.A too many times for your family. It's dried up. If The Newport Group doesn't hand the records over, there will be a court order demanding them. But it will look better if we cooperate." His voice was pleading.

"Cooperate? We rented out our house. We're living in a shoebox on a shoestring budget. What more do they want?"

"The newspapers are having a field day about government corruption. The D.A. has to make sure he's got all the bad guys or the newspapers will tear them up. And if your dad pisses them off by not cooperating in a timely fashion, they'll smell more blood. Yours."

"Dad will do the right thing, Sandy. I have to believe that." Kirsten's voice was sad now. "We've had this same conversation many times. And now this one is over."

Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

Sandy called after her. "It could take time to straighten things out even after they hand over the accounting records. They can make it harder for us until then!"

Seth and Ryan looked at each other, worried, as Kirsten passed by their door.

Seth stood up and called to his mom. "Hey, Mom?" He paused and looked to Ryan for something to say.

Ryan shrugged.

Seth called to her in the kitchen, "Umm, are you cooking Mom? You don't want to do that. We don't want you to do that. How about we order from the Crab Shack tonight?"

Kirsten came back from the kitchen into Seth's room, smiling ruefully at Seth's dig at her cooking. Sandy entered more hesitantly behind her. They nodded to each other neutrally in a semi-truce.

Kirsten turned to Seth and Ryan, and tried to smile reassuringly. But Ryan saw that her jaw was locked and her body tensed. His gaze went to her hands that clutched a wine glass. A knot formed in Ryan's stomach. He stared at Kirsten for the familiar signs but had to look away when she looked at him oddly.

Ryan said, "Actually, I don't think we're in the delivery area to the Shack or any of the other restaurants we normally order from."

Kirsten and Seth looked shocked at the idea. Sandy clapped his hands for their attention. "Fancy, over-sauced food? Egh," he shrugged indifferently. "What do we want that for? No matter where you live, there's always good Chinese."

Ryan nodded. "I saw the Hang Chow Restaurant on my ride in, not too far from here. I could go pick it up. I don't think they deliver either."

"I'll drive," said Sandy.

Everyone seemed to agree unenthusiastically to the plan, and it was quiet again.

Kirsten looked around the room. "A little sprucing up and this will look great," Kirsten said brightly.

"Sprucing? I knew my tainted vocabulary came from somewhere." Seth's words were meant to be funny, but they were said quietly, almost sadly. Like everyone, he seemed to be thinking about his parents' argument without mentioning it.

Kirsten brushed Seth's hair back and kissed him on his cheek. "How about we paint your walls a nice taupe?"

"Chrismukkah is only weeks away. Taupe indicates a dangerously low level of holiday cheer on the color-coded holiday alert system, and honestly Mom, we need all the cheer we can muster this year. I prefer that we buy me a Pelican box to fit our diminutive room."

Sandy frowned. "I don't know what that is, but no."

"Okay, then I'll settle for their newest game, Halo 2."

"Actually, we're going to have to talk about your allowances …"

Seth's mouth hung open, surprised. Ryan glared at him, and he recovered and said, "We're all cutting back, sure."

Ryan cleared his throat. "I'm set with this job at the Crab Shack. I don't need anything."

Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other uncomfortably. Sandy said, "Thanks, Ryan. It's just for a short time." He looked at Seth. "Half rations for a while, kid."

"Yeah. No. That's good. Too bad I don't have a sailboat to sell or bar mitzvah money…" Then he offered unenthusiastically, "Maybe I can get my old job back at the Bait Shop."

Nobody spoke. The idea that Seth might need to work was scary.

Sandy cleared his throat and said, "Look, this year's dreidel winnings are slim, we all know that. But I also know we'll manage with some sacrifices." Seth looked up more frightened after Sandy's words. Ryan sat very still and stared at his hands. "Let's think of this as opportunity to grow, find out what's outside that Newport bubble. We might have moved out even without the D.A.'s case."

There was still no reaction, and Sandy said in a raspy voice, "I quote from Hard to Kill: We're out gunned and under manned, but ya know somethin' - We're gonna win, and I'll tell you why. Superior attitude, superior state of mind."

Kirsten laughed. Seth smirked, "Dad, it's bad enough without the Steven Segal impressions. And we don't have any guns or superior anything."

Ryan couldn't stop a smile, and stole a glance at Kirsten. Her wine glass was empty. His heart stopped and his face tightened. She noticed his hard gaze and looked at him.

"Ryan, you found your old choker? And I haven't seen your leather wrist cuff in a while," she said.

"I thought … yeah, I found them while packing," Ryan said haltingly.

"Jesus and Moses, are we that desperate? The numbered streets call for the big guns, huh? I definitely need the Chino choker and the tough cuff, too." Seth asked.

Kirsten laughed, "One look at this place and I think we'll all need them." Sandy went to her and rubbed her back. She leaned into him.

Ryan glared but they just pulled him up onto his feet and into their hug.