Boy,
you're gonna carry that weight,
Carry
that weight a long time
Boy
you're gonna carry that weight,
Carry
that weight a long time
I never
give you my pillow
I only
give you my invitations
And the
middle of the celebrations
I break
down
Boy,
you're gonna carry that weight,
Carry
that weight a long time
-The
Beatles, Carry That Weight
Chapter 25: Love The One You're With
It was late, and the practice was coming to a reluctant end. Itey and Dutchy had a bag full of the stashed goodies from the garage and Dutchy was well halfway through the bag of marshmellows as they waved goodbye and walked out of the garage.
Spot didn't say much as he held his hand on the small of Race's back while Race huddled close to him for comfort. Blink and Mush were saying goodbye in the front yard.
Jack and David weren't saying a word to the other.
Spot rolled his eyes at them and commented without legging go of Race, "Stop being drama queens. We've got more important things going on. Jackass."
"I am not a queen! Stop picking on me!"
Spot led Racetrack back into Blink's house for some privacy. He tossed back, "Yeah, queens is right!" and shut the door.
The silence was very awkward.
Marco hesitated, and gave Jack and David weird looks, then commented, "Uh... Are you two gay? 'Cause people keep calling me stupid, so I figure I can ask stupid questions..."
"No!" Jack yelled, and Marco winced.
"Jack, behave," David snapped.
Jack glared. David glared at Jack.
Marco ran away to wait in the car for Race and Spot, knowing what they were likely doing and not wanting to interrupt. Also not wanting to think about it too much, because when he did he got all freaked out again. And he really needed to be a solid, calm base for Race to lean on for support.
Oddly, Blink walked up to Marco's car as soon as Mush took off, and Marco rolled down the window to talk to him. "Yeah?"
"So, I just want to say that I did see a few huge bruises on Spot when he was changing for gym, and that if I ever, ever, ever have reason to think you had anything to do with them, yeah, that story you told us today? Will be changed a little bit when I tell it in court."
Marco nodded. "Understood."
Blink looked a little surprised that that had worked. "Oh. Okay."
"But Ryan? ...It is Ryan, right?"
"Yeah."
"Ryan, don't threaten my family right now. I'll be watching out for Sean, but keep in mind that we're not in a place where we can take threats lightly. And we respond badly to being threatened."
Blink kind of stared, then shrugged. "I just wanted to make a point."
"I know. Point taken. And I will be watching out for Sean, I like him, and I like him and Tony together. Sort of. So don't worry about it, okay?"
Blink shrugged.
"And your band rocks."
Blink smiled, and waved, and walked back into his house. Spot and Race strolled past him, on their way to the car. They were hand in hand and looking... Well. Race looked kind of dazed and certainly far more happy and calm than he had in days, and Spot looked smug, but quite satisfied.
Finally, they were off, and Blink was in a much better mood now that his band had been praised by a creepy, but hot and kind of generally nice mobster guy. He walked back into his garage, hands shoved in his pockets, and saw that the tension in the air was so thick he could freaking cut it with his tongue.
Jack and David were glowering at each other from opposite ends of the couch, Jack looking childish, David looking frustrated.
"Uh," Blink cleared his throat. "You two alright?"
"No!" Jack snapped.
"We're fine!" David said afterward. "Don't bug people!"
"Oh, look who's talking!"
"I am, Mr. 'Oh look at me, the only action I can get is my best friend's slightly desperate older sister.'"
Jack's face turned red. "Asshole."
"It's true!"
"Wow," Blink said, shaking his head. "You know, I'd love to stay and watch this, but uh, it's my garage, and--"
"Shut up, Blink!"
"Don't tell him to shut up!"
Blink kind of stared, then said, "Ooookay. Well. I'm not getting involved, I'm gonna go inside and... ignore you two... uh... Yeah, take as long as you like in there. Bye."
And he dashed for the safety of anywhere that wasn't near the fight.
Jack and David had been best friends since they were ten. In that whole time, they had only ever had three fights, only one of which had been serious. And now they didn't even remember what those fights were about, just that the few days they couldn't talk to each other were the most agonizing times of their lives.
Not that it mattered.
David glared at Jack, and crossed his arms; Jack glared right back.
"I have homework to do," David finally said coldly, and started to pick up his bag.
"Yeah? Must be hard, considering you're also doing Tony's, since you're too much of a pushover to ever tell him no."
David's head shot up and he stared at Jack. "You're right, Cowboy. I'm a pushover. It's why I didn't tell you to go to hell years ago." He grabbed his bag and stomped past Jack, out of the garage. Which left Jack with the choice of going after him, since they lived in the same direction, or sitting alone.
And despite the fact that he felt like he'd just been hit with a truck, Jack followed David quickly.
"Hey, you can't walk away from me!" Jack said, knowing full well how pathetic he looked running after David like this, telling him off. "I'm not done talking!"
"I don't care!" David stopped walking and turned around to face him. "You know, I put up with a lot of your shit!"
"I put up with yours!"
"I don't do anything!" David cut him off before Jack could respond. "Listen, yeah, I know, the whole gay thing is annoying, but back there you were trying to ignore me and I've never pulled that."
"So, what, you're mad because I did one thing wrong, like, twenty minutes ago?"
David ignored him. "For years you ditch me for your dates--"
"I always ask you first," Jack snapped. "And if it isn't okay, I don't go. You know that, ass."
"I'm not an ass."
"Yeah, more like arrogant, know-it-all woman."
"Whatever, Jack. At least I'm not a jealous, conceited asshole."
"What?" Jack demanded, again matching his pace to David's.
"You heard me. You're so fucking jealous, Jack! Tony's been my friend for two years; I'd die at school without him but you can't stand to know that I'm almost as close to someone else as I am to you. And then he dares to help Dutchy and you freak out because it means someone other than you is important in Dutchy's life, and then he and Spot get together and you totally freak out because, god forbid, Spot found someone who makes him happy who ISN'T YOU. And I'm sick of it. Tony's a good guy and he's seriously getting screwed over right now and he needs support from his friends, and I'm going to give it to him, damn it, whether you like it or not. So you just take your goddamn jealousy and shove it up your ass."
They were at David's house now, but David didn't move to walk inside, and Jack didn't move to walk away. They just kind of stared at each other.
David could tell he really hit home. Jack was biting his bottom lip, and looked angry and tearful at the same time.
Which David didn't want, but he wasn't about to take the words back.
He was hurt. The idea of Jack and him fighting, the idea of Jack acting so fucking impossible... David could hardly stand it.
"I'm not..." Jack's voice cracked. "I'm not jealous."
"Yeah, you are..." But David's voice was softer now, and he quickly stood up straighter, frowning. "And you ruined my day more than those guys that came and beat up Marco did."
"That's not true!"
"Yes, it is!"
"Goddamnit, Davey, stop it!" Jack ran his hands through his hair. "I'm fucking...I'm sorry, okay? Fine, I'll cave, because if you..." He paused and took a breath. "If you back out and leave me behind and stop being my friend, I fucking lose anyway, apology or not."
Which seriously caught David off guard. He set his bag down in the soggy spring grass and turned to face Jack, his face... well, startled. "Jack?"
"What?"
"I'll never stop being your friend, okay? No matter how pissed I am at you. Which I am. But you never have to worry about me leaving you behind because I need you, too."
"You do?" Jack hated how desperately clingy he sounded, but David had grown up so much since they'd stopped going to the same school, and no matter how much time they spent together anyway, Jack couldn't help but feel left behind. Like he wasn't sophisticated enough or smart enough for David's 'new' life.
"Of course I do." David bit his lip a little, then continued quietly, "You remember when we broke the coffee table in the living room? And I was, like... crying so hard, my parents were going to be so pissed, and you..."
Jack smiled a little. "I told them I did it."
David nodded. "Right. No one else would have done that for me... I love Blink and Itey and everyone but you're the only one who would have done that for me and you still are and…You'd do it again in a heartbeat, I know that, and I'd never stop being your friend. God... no wonder people think we're gay."
"Hetero life partners," Jack mused, then, "Yeah, yeah, it doesn't help that sometimes I think I'm in love with you."
There was a very long pause after that.
David was staring, his mouth a little wide. "What did you say?"
Jack blinked, not even realizing what he'd done. "What?"
"Did you just say...?" David shook his head. "Jack, what are you telling me?"
"I..." Then Jack's eyes widened. "No! No, I mean, I'm so straight. I like girls, and sex and breasts, a whole bunch and I..." He stopped ranting, staring at David.
And then, like a huge balloon that suddenly popped, Jack came to a conclusion.
"Holy God, I'm in love with you!"
And David kind of eeped and cowered back slightly. "Jack, you're straight, stop being a drama...king."
"No, I am straight but I... Aaaaugh, shut me up!"
"I can't! I don't know what to say."
"I know, I know, I'm an idiot, I'm going," Jack turned on his heel and started off down the sidewalk. David hurried after Jack, grabbed his wrist, and whirled him around.
"Jack, you have to level with me. If what you just said is the truth you... just level with me."
"I can't do anything until I know what the hell you're thinking," Jack shot back, avoiding all eye contact.
Finally, David mumbled, "Jack... You're my best friend and all, but... I actually am straight."
"So am I!"
David raised an eyebrow. Jack blushed. "Uh huh."
"Seriously straight! I have sex with your sister! A lot!" He frowned, perhaps realizing that that was a little bit sick if he was really in love with David.
"Do you love her?" David asked.
Which caught Jack by surprise a little, and finally he mumbled, "I... I, uh, care about her."
"But you're not in love with her."
"Not... Not really."
David nodded. "I figured."
"So..."
There was a pause.
"This bites. You know how much easier this would be if, like, I could just say, 'Davey, I'm gay, I've been in love with you since middle school!'?"
David snorted. "Yeah, I know. It's not like we've never heard that confession before..."
"Except no one is in love with us."
David shrugged a little. "We're in love with us."
"What?"
"Well... I don't know. I just... I'm definitely attracted to girls. But I've never wanted to spend time with one the way I do with you... I've never wanted to spend time with anyone the way I do with you."
Jack mumbled, "Does that mean you love me too?"
David took a very deep breath, and rubbed his hands together. Jack recognized that gesture; it meant he was nervous.
But he looked Jack in the eye, which meant he was serious too.
"Yes," he said, nodding, as if telling himself. "I uh... I love you... too."
And they stared at each other, neither one having a clue of an idea what to do.
Had it been anyone else, there would have been kissing and holding and over all a lot of 'I love you' revelation action and sweet nothings.
But Jack and David didn't want each other like that. They were straight. They just loved each other more than anything in the entire known universe. And they were standing on a public sidewalk, which didn't help anything, either.
They walked a few more paces together, silently, back to Blink's garage; and once there they sat on the couch, neither saying anything. Because they didn't know what to say.
David cleared his throat.
Jack coughed.
David clapped his hands together slightly, awkwardly.
Jack cracked his knuckles.
"...Jack, uh--"
Then Blink burst through the door. "Are you freaking done yet, because I need to... whoa, intense," Blink saw the serious looks on David and Jack's faces. "What's going on?"
Stares.
"What?"
"Go away," Jack snapped.
Blink stared at him, then nodded. "Going. No one kill anyone." He disappeared back into the house.
Jack and David weren't touching; they were sitting on opposite sides of the couch. But David looked over and caught Jack's eye, and Jack shrugged a little, and David scooted over to sit closer to him, leaned into Jack a little bit. He wondered, should things like Jack's scent or the strength of Jack's arm as it wrapped around him turn him on?
Because they didn't.
Not even a little bit.
But it felt right.
"So now what?" David asked.
"I dunno. Are you still pissed?"
"Are you going to keep acting like a jerk?"
Jack shrugged. "I'll work on it."
"Then I'm not pissed."
"Good. I hate it when you're pissed at me."
"I hate it, too."
"So... now what?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"You know everything!"
"Well, I've never had to do anything like this before. Now... uh... I guess we decide... Like, what we are to each other."
"What we... are?" Jack repeated.
"Oh, I don't know. You figure out what we should do."
"I think we should go order pizza for dinner and rent a movie and watch it while you do your homework."
David looked over at him. "So... Avoid the problem, then?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Sounds fun. What movie?" He shoved himself up off the couch, and Jack laughed and followed suit. Because he'd really have followed David anywhere.
It was kind of strange to think about how much he really did love his best friend. In a completely non sexual, but totally romantic way. Very, very odd, indeed.
Spot hopped out of the car, stretching slightly, and behaving too well for Spot. (He hadn't said a word to Marco for the whole ride; granted, it'd only been a few short minutes).
Race shrugged and followed Spot out of the car, shoving his hands in his pockets, and taking him up to the door.
"Hey," Race poked him. "Don't mope."
"That's your job right now."
"I don't wanna mope."
"Yes you do," Spot grinned. "Though, if I'D just fucked me, I wouldn't be moping either."
Race rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're a delight."
"I try."
They nodded their heads, both kind of overwhelmed that this course of events was ending somewhat normally, albeit Race's father being in jail. Still, neither knew what to say to the other, for once.
Denise was watching TV and reading something for work in a manila folder. She glanced up. "Sean, you're home."
"Yep."
She glanced at him, then at Race, and sighed a little. "You two need some sort of hormone reduction therapy."
"Denise!" Spot yelped, but was grinning, and the reached out to grab Race's ass. Race squawked as well and squirmed away. Marco pretended very hard that he hadn't seen anything.
"So are you staying?" she asked.
"Uh..." Spot glanced at Marco. "Am I staying?"
"Up to you." Marco shrugged.
"Well, uh..."
"Stay," Race told him. "It'll probably be easier for everyone."
Spot shrugged. "If you want me there--"
"It's not that I don't want you, just that... I can handle things now."
"Says the guy who had to spend four hours talking to a therapist to deal with his nervous breakdown this morning."
"Shut up." Race shoved him a little. "I'm... Okay, not fine, but I'm coping all right now, so it should really be okay. I'll call you if I freak out."
"You'd better."
"I will," Race promised.
"Okay, then. I guess."
"I'll bring your stuff back tomorrow."
Spot nodded.
"So... goodnight, then?"
"'Night."
There was a pause. Then they started kissing, and Denise rolled her eyes and went back to the TV, and Marco discovered a sudden fascination with the pattern on the rug. Particularly when they didn't stop kissing for almost a minute. But he did resist the urge to drag them apart, which was a step in the right direction.
He and Race had barely been in his car for a minute when he sighed. "Okay, cuz, we need to talk."
"What? Spot and I--"
"Not about that. About your dad and... All of this."
Race blinked. "Oh," he said. "Okay."
"Listen, uh..." Marco cleared his throat. "The Families are real pissed off, okay? They've been wanting to get your dad out of the run for years, and now that he's been arrested, we're slightly screwed."
Race snorted. "I'm so sorry your business isn't going well for you."
"That isn't what this is about."
"Than what is it about?"
Marco shot him a look. "Listen, Tony, Uncle Paulo did a lot for you. The least you owe him is... Well, at least listen to what he's gone through and--"
"This isn't my business!"
"It is," Marco snapped. "The only way for you to be out of this safe is for all of us, like me and my dad and... and us to get out of the Families. And that's not easy to do."
Race didn't respond.
"So," Marco sighed, "we might be scarce a little while."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Marco groaned. "I'm just trying to tell you that I'm looking out for you, all right? Even if you can't see."
Race shrugged. "If you say so."
"Serious, Tony. We're looking out for you, and your sisters, and Angie."
"Okay. Is that all?"
"I don't know. Can you keep a secret?"
"What?"
"Simple question, cuz."
"Why would you need to know if--"
"Yes or no?"
Right. It was one of those things he shouldn't question. So Race said, "Yeah, I've been keeping my mouth shut since I learned to talk, remember?"
"That's what I figured. So here's the thing. Your dad wasn't quite honest with you when he told you about... uh, about our Family, I guess."
"What do you mean?"
"We're small time."
"I gathered that."
"No, listen. We are. Uncle Paulo is not. Uncle Paulo is like... A legend. The big guys listen to him, but he didn't want you to know that because he's kind of ashamed of it."
"What?"
"Jesus, Tony, don't you know him at all?"
"Guess not. If he's not ashamed to be involved with, with you all to begin with, then why--"
"Listen carefully, even though you won't believe it. It's not that he's ashamed, exactly; he just knows that you think he's scum. And he hates that, it's why he's always wanted you to get involved. He wants you to approve of him."
"He what!"
"Don't yell in my ear! Christ, what could be worse for a father than knowing your kid looks down on you?"
"Your kid being a gay and addicted to cocaine?" Race suggested.
"This was way before either of those things. You were his pride and joy, you know, the only boy and the heir to the family and all, and you totally rejected everything he did. Which was like a slap in the face, it seriously hurt him. He figured if he could get you involved you'd have to approve. But you didn't, you wouldn't budge, and so when he finally had a chance to get you involved he didn't want you to know how important he really is in everything because he knew you'd be... disgusted by him."
Race shook his head. "That's a load of bullshit."
"I said you wouldn't believe it. But it's up to you. So you want to hear about why your dad is so important or not?"
"...Yeah," Race said finally, curious despite himself.
"He...stands his ground," Marco said, looking confused as to how to tell the story. "Which surprised everybody because he wasn't born into this, he married. He started small, and then suddenly he's this small guy that took over things when no one was looking, and soon all the other small guys like Little Vin and Micki Two-Top--"
"Who?"
Marco ignored him. "--only listened to him. Finally, some of the big guys saw your dad more as potential than a threat, then. So he was brought into the big meetings and he finally got his own thing going. And it was...big. He was fearless and..." Marco shook his head, as if speaking about a God. "And he wouldn't ever back down...then Izzy was in trouble."
Race's face fell. "Izzy?"
"Yeah. Izzy was kidnapped, when she was just a kid, so he changed his name, took his business, and moved off somewhere else to keep her out of it. Anyway, when you were born, he was excited as hell, because I just didn't have it like he did, and that's what he wanted. Someone from our real family to take over."
Race bit his lip. "I don't see how this makes him important, Marco."
"Yeah, I'm getting there. So anyway... Izzy was ten when it happened and you were just a kid and he was so worried about you and her and Sophie, and Angie was pregnant again. So he just said in a meeting one day, he was going to find the people who'd tried to hurt Izzy and make an example of them. And the thing is, no one expected him to do it.
"I mean, he pretty much knew who was responsible, but... like, you don't start wars like that over personal life. Business, sure, but not something personal. But he said that they'd declared war on him by threatening his daughter, and he was determined to make sure that no one ever did it again, so he... Oh, man. From what my dad's told me, it was psycho."
"What did he do?" Race asked.
"Just what he said. He tracked down the guys responsible, and... Well, okay, he killed them. That's what he does, you know that."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, so he didn't stop there. He went to the guy they'd been working for and dealt with him, and then the guy above him, and... Like, he brought a whole Family down. I mean, we were hitting their businesses and operations too, but all the higher ups… It was all Uncle Paulo off on his own with a gun, we didn't even hear from him for days at a time. It took months, but after that, no one fucked with your dad. It was crazy, no one was supposed to be able to do that kind of stuff, but he was… really good at it.
"He had everyone scared after that. But they didn't want to piss him off, either, so when he left Chicago for New York, they expected him to start his own family, to become a Don. But he said no."
"Wait... He... Why?"
"Because he didn't want to be away from his family. He did it for you guys. He was content to be a mid-ranking hit man and not the guy in charge, to run the New York operation for our Godfather in Chicago. But it's not like he was really so mid-ranking anymore, because any time he suggested anything people jumped to do it. Even the Dons."
"Oh."
"Yeah, so... So no one has ever messed with him since then, but he left a let of people really pissed, wanting him out of the way. There have been, like a dozen tries to kill him but he's like a force of nature, no one can bring him down. But people wanted to. And they'd been planning, but Paparelli fucked it up. He grabbed you and Sean, and your dad went psycho again, and even though he dealt with Paparelli, people were afraid he'd start looking higher up again. So they sped up their plans, leaked a lot of information to the FBI on the grounds that they be let off the hook, and set him up."
"The FBI didn't get the other guys, too?"
"No."
"Isn't that illegal?"
"Try 'they couldn't see who they were talking to'."
Race nodded. "So what, they left evidence lying around, and just got a guy to go in for them and spill the beans?"
"Kind of."
"So... Why did Paparelli hate me so much? Dad has way more of a soft spot for Maria and Sophia."
"Yeah, but they didn't stop Uncle Paulo from moving cocaine. So Paparelli and his guys? They were outside our Family, but working in our territory, moving drugs, but your dad wouldn't give them legal protection, so they had to shell out for it themselves. They really hated you because they thought they were being cheated out of loads of cash, which they kind of were..."
Race was looking increasingly more depressed as the conversation went on. "Listen, that's... well... over all, your dad is one tough motherfucker."
"Which is why they got him arrested."
"Well... Okay, yeah. But he'll be okay."
"It's not like it matters. He hates me, anyway." Somehow, the thought of his father hating him was even more depressing now that he'd heard Marco's claim that so much of Paulo's life had centered around protecting his son... And trying to win Race's approval.
When all Race had really wanted was his father's approval.
Sometimes, irony just wasn't funny.
"Uncle Paulo doesn't hate you."
"He threw me out of the house."
"He was angry and shocked... Fuck, scared. It's called homophobia for a reason, Race. You freak us out." Marco snorted. "We're the mafia, we swagger and swear and carry guns, and the thought of two guys caring for each other makes us want to scream like girls."
Race laughed. "Yeah, see, that's funny. I just picture your dad standing on a chair and shrieking like a 1950s housewife who saw a mouse..."
Marco cracked up at the mental image. "Wearing an apron, God."
Race added, "Trying to threaten Spot with a broom and screaming."
Then Marco had to pull over, because he was laughing too hard to drive straight.
Race, despite himself, laughed a little too.
The conversation about Paulo Valentino was over, and Marco and Race were trying desperately hard to be the old Marco and Race. But they found that if they didn't try so hard, it came naturally.
So they drove and Race thought a little, because suddenly his father didn't seem so scary anymore. Just sad and angry and kind of an asshole.
Like him.
When they got back, Maria tackled Race with a hug, and Marco was almost promptly kicked out because Angelina was in a hideous 'Higgins only' mood. Marco finally persuaded her to let him stay when he assured her that Race had indeed laughed in the car, happy.
Race's mother was looking almost ten years older since this had all started. Race blamed himself, Marco, his father...
When had he started hurting this woman so much?
He suddenly couldn't stand the thought of it anymore. So even though he'd been expressly told to relax, do his homework and spend time with his sisters--though he noticed that Sophia was missing, but Izzy and Maria refused to comment on the fact--he walked into the kitchen where his mother was cooking.
She was also, clearly, weeping.
Right. That was why she was cooking in private suddenly; like the rest of the family, Angelina considered herself too strong to break down. And if she was going to do it, she was going to make sure no one else saw.
"Mama?" he asked quietly, and she spun around, startled. "Didn't mean to sneak up, sorry."
"It's... It's all right." She wiped at her eyes. "I hate chopping onions, you do it." She handed him the knife.
Yeah, Mom, he thought. Because the onions were what was making you cry.
"Things are going to be all right, Mama," he said, still speaking quietly. "I know it. And... And I can be more responsible around here, help out, you know, until Dad... Until things are settled." Because he wasn't kidding himself and he knew his mother wasn't either, and Paulo Higgins would not be home any time soon.
"Oh, Tony..."
Then she was hugging him tightly and he hugged back and she sniffled and he pretended it was just from the onions. It wasn't going to be easy around their house for awhile, but he was determined not to make it any harder.
Later that night, Angelina was tucked in bed, an empty mug of what had previously been tea on her bedside table. Race, Isabella and Maria were crowded down in the basement, watching television as quietly as they could, assuming that no matter how sad, Angelina was still a light sleeper.
"How're you doing?" Isabella asked.
"How are you doing?" he countered. He slung his arm around Maria, and glanced at Isabella, the questions meant for the both of them.
Izzy shrugged. "I dunno. This whole thing sucks."
Race turned to Maria. "You?"
"I don't feel good."
Race hugged her tighter, knowing full well she didn't have anything like a flu.
"Mama's been cooking like a mad woman," Isabella said, sighing as she didn't even bother to look at the channels she was flipping through. "You know, and none of the food tastes too good. She just makes it and throws it out."
"She cried, too," Maria frowned. "God, why can't I be normal like all of my friends?"
"You don't wanna be normal," Race assured. "Never. It's the worst...where's Rosetta?"
There was a long silence.
"Where is she?" Race sighed.
Neither of his sister's answered.
"Right, well, I'll take your guilty silence to mean she's at Itey's. Gabe's, I mean."
And again, no answer, but Maria was squirming now which meant that he was right. He sighed. "I'm not gonna freak out; they like each other and she needs someone to lean on right now."
"Good. How's Sean?"
"Black and blue. I fucking hate Maurice right now."
Izzy nodded. "You should have been there when Mama threw him out, it was awesome."
"I wish I'd seen it."
"I'm glad you're home, Tony," Maria said in a very quiet voice. "Don't go away again, okay?"
"I'll try not to."
She grabbed his arm. "Don't."
He swallowed. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'm not going anywhere."
Dutchy didn't often slouch around at the movie theatres in his spare time. Usually, he only came when Itey was just getting off work so he could bum a free movie and they'd see it together. But Itey was off on some secret hot date with Sophia, and Dutchy was stuck waiting for some stupid action movie to start.
He hated waiting in his seat, it made him antsy. Plus, all he could think about was this weird shit going on with Race, and Spot, and everyone.
He also had about a twenty minute wait, just for the previews. He sighed and stared at his watch.
With the concert on Sunday, and everyone being in the shape they were in, Dutchy was nervous about practically everything. Including Race. And Marco. And anything else hot with legs (though they didn't necessarily need legs really...).
"Well, well," he heard this soft, kind of saucy voice behind him. "All alone at the movies?"
Dutchy snapped his head around, and there stood Jessica, sporting an A&W uniform.
She still looked hot.
Dutchy didn't reply, he kind of stared. She grinned. "I work in the A&W," she pointed to the small chain of fast food stalls by the popcorn stands. "If you couldn't tell."
Dutchy cleared his throat. "Nice uniform."
"Thanks."
He reached for the soda he'd bought and gulped down about half of it, glad that he had it. His throat always went kind of dry when Jessica was around. Which was weird, because it wasn't like he only had a crush on her or something. Race didn't affect him like that. No one else did. But for some reason, the perky blond cheerleader who he'd never thought would ever lower herself to talk to... well, to him... made him all skittish. He knew how dumb he sounded around her. But for the life of him, he couldn't help it.
"So, uh... Pretty big day on Sunday, huh?"
"Yeaaaaaaaaah."
"I'm gonna be there, of course."
"You are?" He was a little shocked. "That's... that's, uh, cool." Right, Dutch, he told himself. Way to be slick.
"Soooo..." She trailed off. He stared intently at the stain on the floor in front of him. Finally, she sighed. "Look, Dutch, I already know you like me."
He looked up and stared at her in shock. "Oh," he finally said weakly. Because... Well, so he wasn't exactly subtle, but at the same time he'd never, ever have told her that he liked her. Because she was beautiful and popular and funny and smart, and he was a drug addict who could barely manage two words when she was around. And unlike Jack, he didn't deal well with rejection.
"So, just, I was thinking--"
"You don't like me and that's fine, I already figured, don't worry, you don't have to be nice about it or anything."
She kind of stared at him, and rolled her eyes.
"I was thinking, maybe we could go out or something tomorrow."
Dutchy squeaked. "Uh?"
She rolled her eyes, but the smile was still on her face, so he assumed he was doing alright. "Well, if you don't want to..."
"No, no!" Dutchy said quickly. "I'd love to."
She looked at him right in the eye then and smiled once more. Only this wasn't much of a flirtatious smile so much as a sweet smile. Kind of like they were in the fifties and he'd just called her 'the keenest girl in school' or something like that.
"Now, we just pretend that never happened," she said. Dutchy's heart sank.
"Oh...okay, I...I uh--" but she cut him off.
"And rewind, and you ask me on a date," she touched his arm. "Go on."
Dutchy cleared his throat. "Uhm...wh...y?"
"Because I want to hear you say a complete sentence."
He noticed she wasn't wearing any make up, probably because she was working so close to a grill and it was bad for her skin or something. She looked a lot prettier without make up on.
"Uh..." He thought for a second. This was so damn hard, he was way better at getting random hookups than at getting dates. And he hadn't even being doing well on that front lately.
She tapped her fingers impatiently.
"Well, uh... Jessica... I've had a crush on you since, like, fifth grade and was just thinking that... Um, I like to eat out sometimes and was thinking that maybe sometime--uh, tomorrow--you maybe would like to go with me? Please?"
"Sure, I'd love to."
He grinned at her. "Great! I'd, uh, pick you up but I don't so much have a car... or my license at the moment..."
"No problem; I'll come by for you, then."
"Cool."
She hesitated. "I should probably get back to work."
"Oh."
But she put a hand on his shoulder. "But I'll see you when your movie gets out and then I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
He nodded.
"Good. And Dutchy? You don't have to freak out around me. I like you, too." He just stared at her, and she sighed a little. "Well, work on it, anyway."
Dutchy continued staring as she walked back to the minimum wage, completely and entirely non-sexy A&W job, and he had never found her hotter.
He smiled.
Yeah.
He'd work on it.
"No way," Race said, rummaging through his room, searching franticly for his 'lucky drumsticks'. He barely ever used them, and he'd declared he was going to save them until he was a famous rockstar. He figured this was close enough.
Isabella sighed. "Okay, I know what you're thinking."
"Then the answer should be simple."
"You should go see him, Tony. He's your father."
"He's yours, too."
"And I am going to go see him."
Race glared at her. "Why? He... I... He doesn't even want to see me, that's the gist of it, so you have a blast, I'm busy tomorrow anyway."
Izzy came and kneeled down next to him. "I know you're perfectly allowed to act this way, but you can't exactly never talk to him again."
"Why the hell not? You're forgetting, I'm not his son anymore."
"Tony, you're still in the family. You're back home now."
"Yeah, and if he walked back in the house tomorrow and told me to get out, you really think Mom's answer would be, 'Oh, Paulo, he's your son! You can't do that!'"
"She told Maurice that."
"So? Dad is the love of her life. Maurice is her little brother."
"And you're her only son."
"So?"
"You're his only son, too."
"Maurice's? News to me."
She smacked the back of his head. "Don't be difficult. I know why you don't want to talk to him, of course you have every right be... upset and pissed and depressed... but he's had time to calm down and think, now."
"Yeah, he's got bigger problems. The only reason anyone thinks I should talk to him is so the fucking media doesn't notice we aren't one big, happy family."
"Tony..."
But he kind of had a point. The reporters had finally appeared on Friday, shoving microphones in their faces, snapping pictures and yelling provocative questions. The family hated it. And it was only going to get worse.
The worst were the reporters who were practically paparazzi. One of them went so far as to make vile, and rude comments at both Sophia and Izzy. Race had wanted to punch him out, of course, but Izzy had taken care of it with a few quick, angry comments. He'd had to usher Sophia inside before she could lose her temper, because unlike Izzy, she didn't think before yelling when she got mad.
And his mother, small woman that she was, did not deal well with media. She kind of shrunk up and backed away.
They wouldn't have to go through this if it wasn't for his dad.
He glared at the ground, and Izzy pushed his shoulder slightly to get his attention.
"Tony, I know it looks bad, but if you'd just talk to him..."
No response, just the creaking sound of Race rotating back and forth on the swirling chair.
"Just once. You don't have to talk to him ever again if you want."
"He's never coming home, Izzy," Race said, for the first time really vocalizing what everyone knew but didn't want to say. "He'll be lucky to get off with a life sentence."
"I know." She tried to sound disaffected but really, it was her father they were talking about, and out of all of the Higgins children, Izzy was the closest to him. "I'm going to miss him, Tony."
"He'll miss you."
"He'll miss you."
"Doubtful."
"You won't even give him a chance? What if he wants to apologize to you, Racetrack?"
"Don't call me that!" he snapped at her, then, "Yeah, Dad's real big on apologizing to me. He's done it approximately, oh, never in my entire life."
"And when should he have?" she demanded. "He was the best father he could be--"
"He was in the fucking mafia, Izzy!" Race yelled. "And he cared more about his goddamn business than he did about--"
"That's not true and you know it. I know Marco explained to you--"
"So what? He went and killed a bunch of people for our sake? Why the hell did he have to get involved to begin with?"
She sighed. "He was involved, we can't change that now. But he did the best he could, given the circumstances."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Well, it's not like you made it exactly easy for him, Tony!"
Race turned on her, quickly masking the hurt and the anger and just how much he wanted to punch her.
"Oh," he nodded. "Oh, I get it, so, I really shouldn't have tried out this gay thing huh? Should have left it up on the shelf after I tried out crossdressing and prostitution."
"That's not what I meant!" she snapped. "You snorted coke, you asshole!"
"I know that! And I served my time, and I'm working on it, but I don't think pushing me around, pulling a gun on me and my boyfriend, and, you know, sometimes punching me out for kicks is exactly trying his hardest!"
There was a long quiet then, because that was the other thing no one liked to acknowledge. Out of all of the children, Race was the only one who ever had been hit; it was hard for his sisters to watch but significantly harder for him to deal with. And he'd always, always played it down for their sakes; he didn't want to frighten anyone. He figured it went hand in hand with being the son.
But the fact that he hated his father for it was easy to forget when he played it down with so much skill. Because he was good at that. It was like nothing wrong ever happened in the Higgins household.
One big, happy family.
Race felt a little ill and very conflicted. He wanted his dad in jail. His dad deserved to be in jail. But... Still, it was his dad he was talking about and no matter how much he hated the man, family did count for something. Wasn't that what Paulo had said, before kicking him out? When he'd tried to 'save' Race?
Race sat down on his bed and pulled his knees up to his chin. He had a shitty father.
But he wasn't a shitty son. He wasn't. He'd never meant to be...
Izzy knew that her 'pep talk' had not gone at all the way she planned, nor had it come out the way she wanted. She folded her arms, and took a seat next to him, also staring at her knees.
"Tony, I don't know what it was like for you..." she muttered. "I know that he treated you differently because you were the boy, and you got addicted to crack instead of picking up on the family business like he wanted you to. But you have to understand our point of view, we love him. So do you, somewhere. I don't want to think of you as... pretending he's not there when he is. He is and he always has been and that's better than nothing."
Race pulled away from her. "What if he doesn't want to talk to me?"
"What?"
He shrugged a tiny bit. "What if I go and all I find out is that he hates me, still doesn't want me in the family? What if he tells Mom that..."
"Mom won't kick you out again."
"If he told her to--"
"No, Tony. She knows he's not coming home, too, and she wants..." She sighed. "She wants Maria to have some sort of male role model and you're pretty much it now."
"Some role model. I'm a fucking coke head, I shouldn't be anywhere near Maria."
"Don't say things like that," she snapped. "You... You made mistakes, but hey, so did Dad. And I think if you two can both acknowledge that you might be able to... Forgive each other. A little."
"Yeah, right."
"You'll never know unless you try. I mean, Marco changed his whole world view and Mom threw Maurice out for you. So it's not like anything is impossible at this point."
"But it's not likely."
"But you have to try. Come on; you owe him that much just for the fact that he did try for all of us. Just show up once and if you never go see him again... Well, you'll never have to."
He didn't say anything again. But Izzy knew that meant she'd won, so she wasn't going to press it.
"Do you want me to help you look for your drumsticks?"
"No, your touch will contaminate all the good luck."
Obviously, Race was going to be very difficult in the next couple of days.
F:
Well, we're nearing the end.
B:
Really really nearing the end. As in "one more chapter left"
nearing the end. And we're not lying this time, the way we were about
Spot dying.
F:
AHAHAHAHHAAA!
B:
Don't mind her, she just graduated from high school. She's a bit...
jubilant.
F:
I NEVER HAVE TO GO -BACK-!
B:
As opposed to me after college. "They won't let me go back!"
...Anyhoo. Yep. Onnnne more chapter.
F:
I'm getting sad about this.
B:
Me too. But on the other hand it's pretty exciting. This story will
be just about two years old when we finish it, and 500 pages. That's
a lot of time and effort. tear
F:
And love. SHIT loads of love.
B:
And now we're waxing sappy, so anyway. We hope you enjoyed the
penultimate chapter as much as I enjoy using the word penultimate.
And that's a lot.
F:
By gum that's a good word...
B: Celebrated with
Popcorn, because guess who works in a movie theater?
F: Guess who's actually
eating some...