Chapter 9

"Mom, Dad, let's not go there for a moment. And by there I mean both a literal place and a subject." Seth shifted from foot to foot in the hallway blocking their entrance to the living room and dining room beyond that. "These past weeks have been really hard on me, and that has manifested itself in strange ways. We can only be glad that nothing happened that an ace bandage, ice packs, a few weeks can't fix."

Kirsten and Sandy stood in their bathrobes, bleary eyed and staring at Seth. "Seth, it's a big day for your mom so whatever your talking about can it wait until after I get coffee?" Kirsten put her hand on Seth's shoulder to pass him by.

Seth followed after them saying, "I'm abjectly sorry down to the soles of my high tops. Just know that I love you both and will try hard to make it up to you."

The dining room table was filled with bagels, spreads, a pitcher of juice, and a carafe of coffee. Ryan entered with a frying pan full of scrambled eggs. "So who wants egg?" he asked.

"Pile it on, Ryan. Ahh, that smells great," Sandy said inhaling deeply. Sandy had already seated himself at the table and had begun to tuck a napkin into his shirt front.

"Oh, my God. Ryan, what happened? Sandy!" Kirsten shouted to get his attention. "Are you alright?" Kirsten took the pan from Ryan and put it on the table. She pushed him into the closest chair and tilted his face to the light.

"Ryan, who did that to you?" Sandy's voice was as much upset as shocked.

"Why are you making breakfast in your condition?"

Ryan smiled ruefully. "Old family habit; we cook instead of saying things like umm, … thanks for taking me in, or I'm sorry for getting into a fight."

"Is this broken?" Kirsten asked touching his cheekbone lightly.

"I'm fine, Kirsten, really. It looks worse than it is. I was only trying to -"

Seth interrupted, "I did it. That's what I was trying to say when you guys wouldn't listen." Seth lowered his head in contrition. "I'll accept whatever punishment you think I deserve."

Sandy jerked the napkin out from his shirt. "Seth?" asked Sandy in dismay.

"I went to Ryan's room last night to talk but he wasn't there. I found him on the porch. We fought on the front lawn that's probably why we didn't wake you. Ryan suffers in silence, and you had your windows closed because it was cool, remember?"

Kirsten frowned in exasperation. "Get to the point, Seth."

"Getting there," Seth nodded. "I didn't want to invade his brooding time; he needs that so he doesn't get all meschuge. But he didn't have a jacket on - just a wifebeater and pajama bottoms. Gawd, did I just say pajama bottoms?" Seth took a breath and waved to Sandy. "Well, you know Dad - we're desert people, attuned to these temperature conditions."

"Seth!" Sandy shouted. "Why did you hit Ryan?"

"Oh … yeah." Seth's words slowed considerably. "We started out just hanging… and I thought he was talking down to me, treating me like a kid and telling me how everything was going to be alright. Well, I lost it – went nuts. I realize how wrong I was now." Seth's hound dog face looked up at Kirsten and Sandy.

"And you don't have a scratch on you Seth?" Kirsten trained her eyes over Seth appraisingly.

"No, he wouldn't fight back and that made me all the madder. So I gave him a little bit of this and a little bit of that." He threw fists out in shadow punches, but withdrew them under the table when everyone stared at him strangely. "They're a little swollen still."

"Ryan, is this true?" Kirsten asked.

Ryan's face tightened uncomfortably. He blinked from Kirsten to Sandy and back. "Well, no, not exactly."

Sandy broke in. "What exactly? Did you talk to Seth condescendingly? Did he hit you? And you didn't do anything back?"

Ryan shook his head vigorously. "I would never, never hit Seth. After what you guys and Seth have done for me, I wouldn't do that - not for real anyways. Maybe a corrective smack that a brother needs now and again ..." The briefest smile passed Ryan's lips before he frowned again. "I did try to tell him everything would be all right when I don't really know. Even though everything will be all right, of course." He grimaced apologetically at the contradiction. "I said I was sorry to Seth about, well, what he said, you know, me patronizing him and stuff. But we're cool now. As for hitting me, …" Ryan let his sentence trail off.

"Sandy, is he starting to sound like Seth?"

"Yes, but he still can't lie worth a damn. He's wearing a conveniently concealing sweatshirt to cook breakfast on a warm day, and I'd bet he's not favoring his left hand today because he became a switch hitter overnight; he hit somebody."

"Damn, he's good," Seth muttered under his breath.

Sandy stood up and paced the small room, a few step this way and then back. "I can't believe you don't trust us to tell us what's really going on. We have enough to deal with right now so we're tabling this for now. But know this: you guys will be sorry when we get to the truth."

Nobody said anything for a while and a gloom hung over the room. It was interrupted by the doorbell. Sandy didn't break his pacing stride as he went to the door.

From the dining room they could hear angry voices, then the door slamming shut.

Sandy returned with a red face and eyes whirling in anger. He raised his hand to stop Seth's question that was about to come out of his open mouth. Sandy picked up his cell phone, and placed a call from a number in the phone's memory.

"Mick. Sandy Cohen here. There's a reporter from Riviera magazine who's harassing us at our house." Sandy nodded into the phone. "Thanks for taking care of this – number 414 on 189th Street." He paused. "Yeah, the numbered streets. Thanks, again."

The doorbell rang just as Seth opened his mouth again.

"Who could possibly want a magazine about and for the slimy people in Newport? Thank God we don't know anyone involved in such evil enterprise." Sandy looked at them in all seriousness.

The doorbell continued to ring insistently. Sandy pounded the table and roared out in anger while Kirsten pressed her fingers against her temple.

"Sometimes I feel so frustrated I just want to beat the crap out of a guy like that." Kirsten blinked at her own words. "I didn't mean that. I'm -"

Sandy went to Kirsten's side. He said reassuringly, "Mike, a policeman buddy from my poker days, is sending a squad over for a drive by. That will scare him off."

Sandy reached for the frying pan and made a plate of eggs for Kirsten and offered another one to either of the boys. "Let's eat. It's going to be a long day."

Seth flopped his hands on the table and said, "No, I'm not hungry." Ryan shook his head to the offered plate.

"Eat," Sandy commanded setting down the plate in front of Seth. "Or I'll send you to do to the reporter what you did to Ryan," he threatened.

"I could do it … probably … depending on his size. I don't know why everyone thinks that's so crazy. I live in the numbered streets, dawg," Seth said in a low grumbling voice.

The house phone rang, and Kirsten went to the kitchen to answer it. The three guys waited for yet another shoe to drop.

"That was Tara. Gossip is spreading and she wanted to assure me she wasn't going to join them," Kirsten explained wryly when she returned.

"Mom, can I stay home today? And Ryan, too? I don't think I can face Harbor today. I don't want someone to find out some news about … you before I do."

Kirsten and Sandy exchanged glances. Kirsten nodded and said, "Okay, I don't want the teachers asking questions about Ryan before we have the answers first. But no going out. Stay in and do homework or read."

The boys nodded eagerly to all the conditions. Breakfast was had in relative calm. Kirsten went to shower and dress first. Then, Sandy rushed off for his turn in the only bathroom in the house.

Kirsten returned dressed nicely in a fashionable pantsuit colored a conservative mauve. "Seth, Ryan, is there anything you want to tell me?" she asked sitting back down at the table.

Seth and Ryan glanced at each other. Seth answered for them both, "Mom, we're more worried about you. Ryan and I worked it out. He promises to punch me back next time."

Ryan frowned but didn't say anything.

"Okay, because there's a small chance the DA might need to talk to me for a while … maybe more than a day," Kirsten added the possibility in a rush. "I want things to be good between us. You're dad's doing his best but things can get complicated." She smiled tremulously but her eyes were wet.

Seth turned white and stared in disbelief that she had made a frank admission that things could go wrong. Ryan could only venture a few worried glances their way.

Sandy clapped his hands breaking their spell when he entered the living room. "Okay, we need to get going. I've confirmed that they know we're coming," he called out.

The three joined him in the living room. Kirsten grabbed the two boys and hugged them fiercely then, she kissed them each on the cheek. "I remember I used to have to stoop down to kiss you."

Ryan and Seth seemed unable to speak; they accepted the gestures passively. Sandy also gave them quick hugs. "I'll call as soon as we know anything."

Kirsten and Sandy gathered their briefcases and things, called out reminders to Ryan and Seth to behave, and paused at the door with encouraging smiles.

When the door slammed, Seth seemed to come to his senses and pulled Ryan out with him to the porch. They caught up to Kirsten and Sandy on the steps. Seth held onto Kirsten tightly and didn't want to let her go. Ryan came up tentatively touching her on the shoulder. Kirsten and Seth opened their arms to him.

"Hey, what about me?" Sandy asked wrapping his arms around them all. They stayed like that for a few moments.

"We're going to be late," Sandy said breaking away gently. No words were said as Kirsten and Sandy slowly walked to the car. Ryan and Seth watched until long after the car could be seen.

Ryan cleared his throat. "We need to get started."

Seth nodded. In a jerky jumpstart, he went to his room and returned to the living room with a folder. Ryan joined him on the sofa. The folder was open on the coffee table before them. A floor plan of the Newport Group offices was laid out on one sheet. Numbered panels of cartoon sketches spelled out each persons' role in the sequenced plan.

"Okay, let's go over this again," Seth said. Ryan nodded.

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Author's note: Sincere Thanks to FredSmith for letting me bounce ideas around and keeping me away from dangling modifiers in the numbered streets.