Ryan jumped at the pounding on the door. Jumping up from the couch he approached it quietly, trying to catch his breath before he opened it.
"Uh…I think I'm at the wrong place."
Ryan looked up at the guy standing there, almost six feet, stick thin, long brown hair covered with a baseball hat. "You looking for T.J.?" he asked the guy as he took a step backward.
The guy paused at the steps, his face wrapped in the shadow of the night. "Yeah. You know where he's at?"
Ryan jerked his head towards the living room and stepped back.
"I didn't know T.J. and Gary had another brother man, sorry."
"They don't." Ryan replied, not offering an explanation. "How much you need?"
"Half quarter."
Ryan flipped up a couch cushion and grabbed a bag, holding out his hand for payment and staring the guy down. Daring him to say something, daring him to try something.
In the past two weeks Ryan had dealt with his share of morons and people who thought they could rip off a kid – himself – with no repercussions. They'd been wrong. The moment T.J. found out his customers had been giving Ryan problems he'd jumped in his shitbox of a car with his bat to make an example. Ryan hardly believed it was anything to do with the fact they'd actually hurt Ryan, but more to do with the fact they'd ripped T.J. off.
The guy in front of Ryan palmed him the money without hesitation. He'd obviously heard. Ryan tossed the baggie at the guy and locked up behind him as he left. Threw himself onto the couch.
The smelling, putrid couch. His bed. Ryan lay his head against the back, breathing in the smell of smoke – cigarette and otherwise – and something that smelled like rotting milk. He found it hard to believe that two weeks ago he'd been sleeping on silky soft sheets and feather pillows. So had Trey.
Trey. Damn him. He was the reason they were here, stuck in this shithole. You'd think that with the money T.J. brought in – and Ryan had seen him bring in wads of cash – that he could afford a better place, but no. Ryan hadn't even seen Trey at all today. Usually he was in and out of T.J.'s place with Arturo, T.J. and Gary but not today.
Probably on a bender at some girl's place.
Ryan closed his eyes, wanting sleep but knowing he couldn't. Not until someone else got home to keep an eye on the door. Or an ear. Whatever.
Loud voices standing outside the front door was what stirred Ryan from his nap. Then pounding. Loud, house-rattling pounding. His eyes flew to the window, searching for any indication of flashing lights, of police. Nothing.
"Open the fucking door Ryan."
Ryan jumped from the couch, fumbling with the stiff deadbolt. The door swung open as soon as the tumbler clicked out of place, almost shoving Ryan into the wall. Arturo stumbled in, hard-pressed for walking under Trey's barely-conscious weight.
"What…"
"He's fucked up." Arturo replied, dumping Trey onto the couch. "Grab some ice, some water."
Ryan didn't hesitate.
"What's he on?" Ryan asked, re-entering the room and tossing supplies onto the table.
"Fuck. I dunno. Coke probably. Stupid fucker, I told him not to try any of the shit Gattas was forking out, but you know your brother man. Fucking stubborn as hell and looking for a hit. Couldn't wait for fucking T.J. That son of a bitch probably laced it with a load of home-cooked shit. Gonna fucking kill someone one of these days." Arturo grabbed the wet towels, shoving them around Trey's head and body. He groaned.
"Wake up, you fucker." Arturo slapped Trey on the cheek. Trey didn't move again. "Help me get him to the shower, Ry."
Ryan grabbed his brother under the left armpit, slinging Trey's arm around his own neck. This was great.
Just. Fucking. Great.
0o0o0o0o
Sandy entered the kitchen to find Kirsten slumped at the counter with her robe still on, glass of wine in front of her and head buried in her arms. He inhaled sharply, putting his hands on her shoulders. She brought her head up, wiping at her eyes.
"Hey honey."
Kirsten attempted to smiled, but failed.
"I know how you feel." Sandy said, kissing her on the forehead. "But we'll find him. We will."
"It's been too long, Sandy." Kirsten's voice cracked.
"No. No, it hasn't. Ryan's been taking care of himself for years now. There's no reason to think he isn't doing the same now."
Kirsten shook her head. "On the street Sandy? He's eleven, there's no way…I just know something's happened."
"Nothing's happened. We have the best people working on this."
"If they're the best, why haven't we heard anything about him?" she snapped.
"Them. Trey and Ryan. They're probably trying to stay off the radar. Probably scared, lost. Don't know what to do…" He glanced at his wife, heart breaking. Right now, Sandy would give anything to find Trey and Ryan. To just know they were safe, for Kirsten. Kirsten, who'd been freaking out for the last two weeks. Kirsten who'd cried upon her discovery that the boys were nowhere to be found. Kirsten who hadn't been to work in the past four days, which sadly was the strongest indication there was something very wrong.
He would give anything.
0o0o0o0o0o
Kirsten barely felt Sandy's arms around her shoulder. She knew he cared, but right now all she was worried about was Ryan. Ryan, the eleven year old who'd somehow brought her family together in the few days he was here. Ryan, who'd somehow brought Seth out of his shell and done the impossible of re-connecting Seth's faith in his father, in himself. Ryan, who'd also shattered her family when he left. Ryan who was lost and hurt and who had no place to go, with only his brother to watch out for him.
Trey. Trey wouldn't watch out for Ryan. She knew that, anyone could see it. They were brothers, but Ryan cared more than Trey. That was shown with the mess in the poolhouse. She didn't trust Trey. Hadn't trusted Trey. Maybe it was his constant silence, his unforgiving glares. Maybe it was simply his attitude, the fact he'd stolen a bottle of Crown the first night here. She knew he'd been through bad times, like Ryan, but somehow he'd come out bitter whereas Ryan had just come out hurt and alone.
She stared at the glass of wine in front of her. The bottle beside it. Half empty. She knew her family needed Ryan back. To be a family again, they needed Ryan. He was the other part of the puzzle. Without him, they were falling apart. Without him, the only way she could face the day was in her bathrobe.
The realization hit her then. She was dependent on an eleven year old. She was putting this on a child the same age as Seth.
She grabbed the glass of red wine, emptying it in one long gulp. Kirsten didn't like being dependent on anyone.
0o0o0o0o0o
Seth slammed the door behind him. His new announcement of arrival. The glass in the door panes shook, and he wished they would break. Maybe it would dispel some of his anger.
He kicked his shoes off, leaving them where they landed, and dropped his backpack in the front hall.
"Seth? That you?"
Seth ignored his father's call, and ran up the stairs. Life in Orange County sucked. He couldn't remember it ever being so bad. It wasn't even that Luke and Nordstrom had taken to peeing in his shoes again. It wasn't that every day after school he was locked in his own locker. It wasn't even that he still couldn't get Summer to say anything except 'ew' to him. It was the fact that his best friend, his only friend, still hadn't been heard from. Had run off into the night without a goodbye, without warning, and left Seth here all alone to face everything.
After finally making a friend, Seth found it was impossible to go back to being friendless, to being a nobody.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Do you need anything else Trey?" Ryan asked his brother.
Trey shook his head from underneath the bed covers.
"You sure?"
"Just fuck off already!"
Ryan, shocked for a moment, stood there until Trey pulled down the covers and glared at him.
"Unless you're gonna give me a fucking fix Ry, you'd better get the fuck outtah here."
Ryan backed from the room, closing the door behind him.
"How's he doin'?" Arturo clapped Ryan on the back.
Ryan shrugged, sat on the couch. Exhausted. Ready to sleep.
"He'll probably be pissed that he can't have a fix for awhile. Best to keep your distance."
Keep my distance.
Arturo didn't know how right he was. How in the past two weeks he'd thought of calling the Cohens. Somehow, from somewhere. To say what? He didn't know. Maybe to say he was okay, maybe to beg them to come get him. But Ryan couldn't do it. Especially not right now. Trey was his brother. He had to make sure he pulled through this. Had to stay strong. "T.J. back yet?"
"No. Still haven't heard nothin'."
Ryan nodded, stared out the window.
"Why don't you take a nap kid? I'll keep an eye out."
"No. S'okay. I'm fine."
"Kid, you're beat. Theresa will kill me if she found out what state you were in. So would Ma."
Ryan glared. "I don't need them to watch out for me 'Turo. And you'd better not tell them where I am."
"Yeah yeah."
Ryan slumped back into the couch.
"Well, listen. I gotta work in the morning, so if you ain't gonna sleep I'm gonna head home and hit the hay."
"See you."
"Yeah. See you. Stay strong kid. He'll pull through this. We'll pull through this." He clapped Ryan once more on the shoulder and left. Ryan followed him to the door, locking up behind him.
He didn't know if he wanted to pull through this anymore. A part of him just wanted to give up. Walk out, leave everyone. Trey wouldn't stop the drugs. He wouldn't stop the drinking. They certainly wouldn't ever find another place to stay – no matter what Trey had told T.J. They were stuck here, in this whole, with no place to go. No future.
0o0o0o0o0o
Once again, Ryan was lulled out of sleep from pounding on the door. His eyes sought the time, which the VCR informed him was ten after two in the morning. Fucking assholes, Ryan thought.
"Do you guys have no fucking respect? I'm trynna fucking sleep here and you –"
The lights were bright. Bright enough to reflect on the guns aimed in his direction. Ryan's breath hitched.
"Don't move kid."
Ryan froze, squinting into the lights.
"Back up, slowly, and put your hands against the wall."
Ryan didn't move. Couldn't.
The cop reached out and pushed him against the wall, holding him there with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. "Spread your legs."
"What –"
"Spread your legs!" the officer barked again. His partner had moved inside now, and Ryan could see there were more cops outside.
He pressed his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes. They were all fucked.