Chapter 8

For the second time that night Ryan drove as fast as he dared. He watched the speedometer carefully - too much was at stake to be stopped for speeding. If all went as planned he'd be back in two hours with the Cohens none the wiser and Caleb all the sorrier. Most importantly, questions would be answered. Like how much of Caleb's shit would splatter on Kirsten? It was hard to believe Caleb would let Kirsten do jail time for him. Then again his dad had smacked the shit out of him and then said he loved him in the next breath; rationalizations were a dime a dozen.

He drummed his thumb against the gearshift impatiently. The image of Kirsten, devastated after talking to her dad, wouldn't leave his head. She reminded him too much of the morning his last illusions about Dawn were shattered. Whatever Caleb's excuses, Ryan would inflict enough pain that he'd never think to do it again. And Ryan would enjoy every moment of it. He cranked up Journey to block any second thoughts he might have.

Minutes later he sat in the Range Rover staring at the monster mansion. He took a deep breath, got out of the car, up the walk, and pounded on the door. He clenched his jaw and held his breath as he waited for someone to answer. Fuck probation and Child Services, something had to be done and he'd be the one to do it.

Caleb opened the door and looked behind Ryan as if there had to be others. Then he sneered, "Well, well, if it isn't little Pip. Come to give a convict a loaf of bread and a shiv? You know I should get something back for supporting you all last year." He walked away but continued to talk. "Marissa forgot some school things when she moved out. Take them to her at school."

Ryan chased after him through the entryway. "Why drag Kirsten into it?"

Caleb glanced over his shoulder and gestured impatiently with a wave for him to catch up but said at the same time, "It's an absurd world where entrepreneurs like me are arrested and delinquents can come and harass me in my home. You're lucky Julie's not home or she'd call the cops."

Ryan grabbed him by the shoulder. "How bad is it going to get? You owe it to your family to let them know what they are up against."

"I begged Kirsten to come and now it's almost too late. Don't lecture me about family," Caleb said scornfully, shrugging off Ryan. He stopped at a hallway table and opened its drawer.

"What are you doing? Damn it, answer me." Ryan slammed the palm of his hand against the wall angrily.

"Umm… Marissa's stuff." Caleb held his palms out, gesturing to stop and keep quiet. He pointed to the phone on the table, then to his ear, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Ryan shook his head confused. "What? Are you calling the cops on me?"

Caleb snorted. "I should. Do you remember how you ended up with my daughter's family? I'll remind you - your drunken mom wanted nothing to do with you, and your father and brother had confinement issues," Caleb said sarcastically. "Blood tells; you were on the way down when my family took pity on you. That was my poolhouse you lived in this last year and a half. Remember that."

Enough empty words Ryan thought - his fist shot out and hit Caleb squarely on the jaw, snapping his head back. Caleb back-pedaled a few steps but regained his balance. His nose started bleeding, and his eyes narrowed with hate.

"You pissant thug. This is what I get for trying to help you get back to the poolhouse?" Caleb sprang in a surprisingly swift tackle for an old man. Ryan braced for the attack but Caleb had a few pounds on him and inertia, as he learned in physics, wouldn't be denied. He fell backwards tripping over a table leg. He reached back to break his fall and a sharp pain shot through his wrist as it landed hard on the marble floor.

"Okay we can do this the hard way if that's what you want," Caleb said as he hovered over Ryan. A knee came down to press against Ryan's chest.

"Kirsten doesn't deserve you," Ryan struggled to spit out as he gasped for air.

Caleb's face tightened. "No, she doesn't and worse yet you are the only chance." With a low growling menace he added, "First, we settle this because it's been a long time coming." Caleb smiled as he put more and more weight on Ryan with his knee. Two fast blows added a burning throb to the right side of Ryan's face. He rolled, pushing away from Caleb. He scrambled to his feet and wiped his lip with the back of his hand. He saw the blood on it and lunged quickly. He stopped just short of Caleb throwing the man off balance. Taking advantage of the moment Ryan punched Caleb in the stomach and followed with a quick jab to his jaw. Caleb grunted, raised his arms protectively, and retreated a few steps until his back came up against the wall.

Age and conditioning won out as Ryan found a nice rhythm. When Caleb protected his face Ryan punched his middle. "You ready to talk? If not, it's okay because I can do this all night for what you did to Kirsten." When Caleb's hands covered his injured stomach, Ryan hit him across the face. "This is for Seth"- smack. "And Sandy"- jab, punch. Pain shot through his wrist each time he led with his right, but the satisfaction outweighed the pain.

Ryan was mid punch when he realized Caleb was no longer putting up a resistance; his arms were by his side, his face was slack and he moaned incoherently.

Ryan crawled away and leaned against the opposite wall. His face was flush and he breathed heavily. "Do they have enough evidence to convict?" Ryan asked pronouncing each word carefully and slowly.

Caleb panted trying to catch his breath.

"Answer me!" Ryan moved as if to get up and strike again.

Caleb sat up, waved his hands in surrender, and nodded. "She never knew anything. They have one check to the permit clerk because my stupid secretary forgot to get me to sign before I left for Europe. She asked Kirsten to sign instead. They won't find anything else because I wouldn't do that to her."

Ryan closed his eyes and cried out in relief. Tears threatened to spill, and he felt like the weight of the world was lifted. So they were in for some bad courthouse antics, but no jail. "Yes," he said quietly to himself. He could deal with this. Sandy would ensure a trivial sentence if the evidence was that scant.

Ryan got up, anxious to leave. He couldn't wait to tell the good news to Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth. He paused and asked, "Why didn't you just tell them? They are going through hell because your pride wouldn't let you pick up the phone?"

Caleb tried to stand up, leaning against the table to rest a moment. He opened an address book from the drawer and handed Ryan a piece of paper from it. "I need a drink. Follow me."

"No, I gotta get back," Ryan said as he opened the note, curious about what Marissa might have written or what it had to do with school.

"Boy, just do what I say. Kirsten would kill me for sending you home looking like that." Actually, Caleb looked much worse. His shirt was torn and bloody, and his face was swollen red and defeated.

Ryan found himself falling back to his habit of quiet compliance now that the adrenaline rush was over. He had made his point, and the guy just looked old and pitiful. He didn't want to rub it in so he stood up and warily followed him to the wet bar, reading the note as he walked Kiki, must destroy your Charity Events Account Ledger, NG records office, filed under 'Petty Funds-charity'. Ryan froze, inhaled sharply and looked up at Caleb.

Caleb put his finger to his lips for silence, point around the room suspiciously, and shrug his shoulders in a question.

Ryan sat on a stool and watched dumbly as Caleb poured himself a neat Scotch. He lifted his eyebrow, gesturing at the bottle to see if Ryan wanted any. Ryan shook his head no. But he wanted the millions of questions that formed in his head answered but couldn't ask because there might be microphones around.

Caleb opened the ice bucket. "Can't get good help these days. How hard is it to fill an ice bucket? I'll run a towel under cold water for your face." He turned on the bar faucet full blast and leaned over to say into Ryan's ear, "Listen up. This place may be wired. There's an accounting of charity event expenses in the Newport Group's record office. Kirsten trusted me and kept an account and log based on my word… but it's dirty. The charity may look like bribes to certain officials. The DA's not suspicious of it yet, but if they get a hold of it… just get rid of," Caleb whispered. He turned off the faucet and handed him the towel. "Here. Put it on your face."

"Why?" Ryan asked sincerely confused. Caleb was lucky he had already kicked the shit out of him before he learned this truth.

Caleb took another drink and grimaced. "I've said as much as I need to you," Caleb said, "now just get out."

"You can't admit you have to ask the inland thug to help you clean your mess and -"

"Shut up," Caleb interrupted. "You'll help – take Marissa's notes - because you'll be back in the poolhouse faster," he said bitingly. Then added more calmly, "I'll consider your debt to me paid." He tossed down the rest of the drink and poured another. "You know a scotch is good if it burns on the way down. You know all about how to do that, right?" Caleb asked meaningfully.

"You fucking bastard." Ryan's hands fisted without thinking, but he swallowed his fury. Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth would be hurt no matter if Ryan exacted another drop of blood or not. And a plan is what he needed to focus on now. Then again …

Ryan reached across the bar. He jerked Caleb toward him by his shirt front. Caleb's eyes grew wide with fear and he tried to pull away. His scotch glass shook but remained in his hand.

"Kirsten will never trust you again," Ryan said quietly. Caleb's shoulders sagged. "I do love her," he said sadly.

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The drive home was slower than the drive over; he had trouble seeing out of his swollen left eye, and his wrist hurt when he had to shift gears.

He quietly unlocked the front door and crept down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the light and winced as he looked in the mirror. This would generate lots of questions that they especially didn't need. The DA was enough to worry about tomorrow.

He cleaned up as best he could, wrapped his wrist in a tight bandage, and walked back outside to sit on the porch. The air was cool and still but his mind raced. Could he really torch the place like Caleb hinted? What the hell was Caleb thinking? Ryan didn't know how to burn down a building - in the movies the smallest amount of propellant would produce a fireball, but it would be hard to get the fire to reach far enough if he couldn't get in the records room. The model home had had workers' chemicals and drop sheets all around to spread the flames. Maybe, if he had more time, he could google it or talk it over theoretically with his physics teacher.

"Ryan?"

Ryan didn't bother to look up. "Go back to bed, Seth."

"Oh-kaay… just tell me what your doing sitting on the porch at three in the morning," Seth asked coming around to sit next to Ryan, "with the shit beat out of you? Holyfield Jesus and Mighty Moses!"

"Shhh, keep it down."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. What happened?" Seth asked but Ryan remained quietly stoic. "You went on a sortie without your wingman, didn't you?" He barely gave Ryan time to answer before he repeated more forcefully, "Didn't you? Right after that long brothers getting through it together speech?" Seth was whispering but his fury was unmistakable.

"I… sorry… I visited your grandfather."

"Shit. Mom's going to go ape if Dad doesn't beat her to it first."

"Seth, I can help her, but I don't think I should bring you into this; it could get…" Ryan trailed off.

"Either we're really brothers or we aren't. She's my mother."

Ryan seemed to consider Seth's words before he spoke softly, "He told me I've got to torch the Newport Group record office to get rid of some evidence against her. Maybe… I could do it at night so no one would get hurt."

"Whhaaat? No, dude. With your record you'll get caught and go back to juvie or even jail now that you're seventeen. And there's always a night watchman who gets killed in these things, isn't there?" Seth tilted his head with his question. "Besides Mom didn't do anything wrong. It might be messy and slow but the wheels of justice are fair. Aren't they?" he asked more uncertainly.

"Caleb's made a lot of enemies. He got away with a light sentence and people are mad. This is their second chance. She signed things that make her look really guilty. It's got to be destroyed. The records room is locked, and tomorrow it will be taped off by the police." Ryan ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't think of anything else to do… Seth do you trust the courts with your mom's life?"

The question hung in the air as they sat listening to the night. A dog down the street barked angrily, car tires peeled off screeching loudly in the distance.

Seth shook he head back and forth. "No, I don't. And now's the time to put my Camp Tacahoe training to the ultimate test. I've got a fool proof Plan for the dynamic duo, Ryan."