Chapter 2

Making the wrong decision was easy. In the moment, with adrenaline pumping, you only had seconds to choose your path; any outside force at all could affect the outcome. Outside forces like best friends who didn't know what was best for them.

Ryan dug his thumbs into his eyes and tried to erase the memory of Seth pleading for help; the memory of his brown eyes staring up at Ryan in confusion, like he couldn't imagine getting hurt on Ryan's watch.

He knew he should have left Seth in Newport. Stolen the BMW if he'd had to; Sandy and Kirsten would've forgiven him eventually. He should have done whatever it took to prevent their son from walking into a war zone. A visit to Chino was destined to end badly, even if he had lied to Seth and said it was no big deal. Instead he'd let the hurricane force that was Seth-on-a-mission cloud his judgment and now all that was left to do was clean up the carnage.

Opening his eyes, he ignored the wetness blurring his vision and dropped his head. He thought back to that afternoon—he never should have gotten out of the car.

/-/

"This is it, right here." Ryan pointed out the passenger window at a small house set back from the road. "Pull up in front." He stared at the house as Seth slowed to a stop. A large bay window and a door took up the front of the house. That was it. It couldn't have been more than 15 feet wide.

"Hmm, it's…quaint," Seth observed.

Ryan kept his eyes trained on the house—memories of the last house he'd lived in with his mother assaulting his mind. Sure this one was on a different street, and the paint was a different color, but the overwhelming sense that it was exactly the same was choking. Shaking his head abruptly, he sprang from the seat, opened the door, and exited the car. Turning back to Seth, he warned, "Stay here and don't move."

Slamming the door, Ryan looked at the house warily. Then he changed his mind and opened the car door again. "And lock the doors, and don't put down the windows. And if anyone comes up to you, call me on my cell. And don't, like, blow the horn if you hear a great tune or something. We're going for no attention here, got it?"

Seth raised his hands in submission. "Fine, got it. But I can't promise I won't draw a crowd when I turn on my rockin' tunes." He bobbed his head as he fiddled with the CD player, stopping only when Ryan didn't move. "What?" he asked, eyes widening in innocence.

Ryan kept his annoyed look firmly planted on his face.

"Fine, fine, no attention, got it. But you know, it's a BMW in Chino, it's got attention painted all over it."

"I know; that's why I'll only be five minutes. Stay."

Seth raised his hands up under his chin and panted like a dog. "Yes master."

Giving him one last stern look before he slammed the door, Ryan thought again about how out of place Seth was here. As he walked up the concrete path leading to the front door, he glanced down at the brand new CAT boots Kirsten had bought for him yesterday. They were still shining like they sat on a store shelf. He groaned; Seth wasn't the only one out of place in this neighborhood.

As he knocked on the door, he subconsciously rubbed his heel across the toe of his boot. Kirsten would not be impressed.

He turned to glance back at Seth while he waited for someone to answer the door. The driver's seat was reclined all the way back and Seth was invisible through the sun hitting off the side window. The sun roof was open, and Ryan could only imagine that he was taking this opportunity to work on his tan; Summer was starting to rub off on him.

Ryan shook his head and turned back to the house, noticing for the first time that the curtains were drawn across the window. He knocked again and tried to peer in through the blinds covering the window in the door.

When the door opened suddenly, Ryan jerked back, tugging his jacket down over his month-old watch.

"Ry!"

He was smothered in a hug before he could react, overwhelmed by the scent of bourbon and nicotine.

She held him a little too long, then pulled back and dragged him inside the house. Ryan reeled from the sudden absence of light and blinked as his eyes adjusted. The new house was nothing like the old house. The first was white, this was yellow. The first had a covered porch, this had a concrete step. The first had two bedrooms and separate kitchen. This…this had a stained futon in the corner and a card table that passed as a dining room.

They were complete opposites, and yet, as he took a seat on one of the cheap plastic chairs in the corner that served as the kitchen, Ryan felt like he'd lived there his whole life.

"Baby, I'm so glad you came."

Ryan nodded, unable to meet her eyes. They were bloodshot from something—pot, hash, plain old lack of sleep. She'd held a cigarette in her hand when she opened the door, and quickly finished it now, lighting a new one off the first. She was offering him a cup of what looked like day-old coffee when he finally interrupted.

"Why did you call?"

It wasn't supposed to sound as pleading as it did. He was tough, resolved, impervious to her faults. Except he wasn't; and no matter how many times she lied about being clean, each new occurrence was like a sharp backhand to the face.

"I just wanted to see you. I thought we could talk."

"Mom…"

"What?" Dawn said icily.

There it was—the edge. He'd been waiting for it. He stiffened in his chair, eyeing her cautiously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean," she stumbled.

Words. Empty. She could've told him she'd won a Nobel Prize for all he believed her.

"I just wanted to see you." She sighed, dropping her hand to the table, the tip of her cigarette an angry red. "I just needed to talk to you, okay? Is that so terrible?"

Ryan shifted, focusing on a fly buzzing over the food-crusted dishes piled on the counter. There were enough plates for eight people. He looked back at her warily. "You playing host again? Letting everyone and his dog crash here?"

"No, not everyone, it's just Rick."

Ryan scraped his chair sharply on the floor, hearing and not caring when it tipped over to clatter against the linoleum. "Rick? Rick Trana? Jesus Mom. What are you doing with him?"

Dawn was up and in his face just as fast. "Don't you speak to me like that, you hear me? Rick took care of this family for five years. Who do you think bailed Trey out of jail the first time he stole a car? Who do you think paid for your hospital bills when you fell down the stairs?"

"Mom!" Ryan was incredulous. "Rick showed Trey how to hotwire a car. He took me upstairs and told me to stop crying or I was flying. You were here! You know what he did!"

Dawn sucked hard on her cigarette. "Rick might have his faults." Her breath rushed out in a cloud of blue smoke. "But he has always looked out for us. We never got evicted once when he was around. It wasn't until you had to blab to that teacher…"

"I had two black eyes in a week. She called the cops." Ryan remembered that day—sitting in the principal's office like he was the one in trouble. Listening to the cops tell him that he'd cooperate or they'd take him away from his mother. Pissing his pants when Dawn marched into the school to rip him away by the arm.

"I spent a week in the hospital." Ryan's voice was soft. "He was a drug dealer, and that was one of his better qualities."

"Yeah?" A gravelly voice erupted from the shadows behind him. "And his most profitable."

Ryan closed his eyes at the sound of the new voice in the house. All those years and it could still take him back to the steeled-toed boot connecting with his stomach.

/-/

He should have just said he'd do it. It didn't matter what Sandy and Kirsten said, they never would have left him in Chino. Not with Seth there.

Ryan stretched his arms up over his head, wincing when a sliver of pain lanced through his side. Standing slowly, he cupped his right hand to his ribs and walked around the chair.

How long would they make him wait? Were they just going to leave him here? Sandy and Kirsten had to be here by now. They had to know something.

A sudden burst of frustration surged in him and he lashed out at the metal chair. Kicking it over on the floor, he continued his attack until the leg caught him square in the shin and he limped away.

Fists clenched and eyes tight, he swore that if they both got out of this okay, he was never going to ignore his gut feeling again. Even if his mother called and said she was bleeding, he'd call an ambulance first, then Sandy. He didn't trust himself to make the right decisions. He'd messed up enough for two lifetimes today.

He could still remember the moment it all changed. It was a simple question; a yes or no answer. All he had to do was say yes. Instead he tried to stall.

/-/

"Sit down, Ryan, Rick just wants to talk."

Ryan stared at his mother, half swaying on her feet. What could Rick possibly have to say to him that he'd want to hear? His mother reached out for Rick, her hand trembling just slightly. Ryan shook his head—suddenly he knew exactly what was going on. He sat down with a defeated thud.

"You know, son," Rick started.

Ryan winced when Rick used the familial term.

Rick grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat at the table. "I always knew you'd make something of yourself. I just figured it'd be selling drugs, or running cars like your brother."

Ryan kept his mouth shut, lips pressed firmly together.

"Guess you don't need all that when you got someone wiping your ass for ya."

Dawn and Rick broke into a chorus of laughter. Ryan exhaled slowly through his nose and waited for the ball to drop.

"So…" Rick stretched his legs out beneath the table, kicking the side of Ryan's chair. "I was thinking you and me could do a little business. Keep your momma happy. You wanna keep her happy, don't ya?"

Ryan kept his eyes focused firmly on his lap.

"I mean, she's the one who gave you all this. If it wasn't for her, you'd still be living in some Chino shit-hole, right?"

Ryan's eyes flicked up to Rick, quickly over to Dawn, then back to his lap. Yeah, he owed his mother everything. The mansion in Newport, the new clothes on his back, the cell phone in his pocket—all thanks to Dawn. What a joke.

"So it's only fair, Ryan, that you pay your debts when they're called."

Ryan hated the way Rick said his name. Like two separate words—Rye-Anne. He ground his teeth together and chanced another glance up at Rick.

"People get down on their luck all the time. Need a little help to get back on track. You know what that feels like. You've been there."

His bottom lipped flicked under his top teeth and he watched Rick steadily.

"So your Mom just needs a little help. You're not gonna say no to that, are ya?"

Ryan looked quickly at Dawn. She drew shakily on her cigarette and shot him a nervous smile.

Rick prodded him. "Ryan?"

There was that stupid pronunciation again. Ryan shook his head, wishing that he didn't already know what they were going to ask.

Dejectedly, he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing that's gonna hurt. All you gotta do is call up your lawyer friend and tell him you need some money. Not much, just a couple thou'. We'll get the cash and then you can leave. Easy-peasy."

Easy-peasy? Ryan's eyes widened in shock. Ask Sandy for a couple of thousand dollars. Just like that. Simple.

"I…I can't…"

Rick's gaze hardened. "What'd you say?"

Ryan cleared his throat hesitantly. "I mean, I can't just get that kind of money. Not without a reason." He looked at his mother for support. Nothing.

"Well, tell them you want to join the Boy Scouts. I'm sure you'll think of something."

Rick's tone left no doubt that Ryan had better think of something, or else.

"Mom?" Ryan's voice was pleading as he looked at his mother.

She looked like she might give in for a second. Her eyes filled with remorse before a short cough from Rick banished the emotion. "I need this, baby. You owe me."

"I owe you." He repeated it like a statement. He should have known it would come down to this. He could run as far away from Chino as he wanted, he would never truly leave.

"Well I can't do it." He stopped when he saw the fierceness in Rick's glare. "I mean, they're not home, they weren't, when we…when I left."

Ryan stopped and stared down at his lap again. He just had to get out of there. Figure out a way to stall long enough to leave and get back to Newport. Then he could try to sort out what he had to do. He just needed to buy himself some time.

"I can ask them when I get home. I need a reason. They won't just give it to me."

"Oh I think they will," Rick said slowly.

"But I've got to explain. They don't just have cash lying around the house."

"We don't need cash lying around the house, because you aren't leaving here until we get the money."

Not leaving? But how was he supposed to get it? Ryan's heart sunk when he realized Rick was deadly serious.

"Look." He tried to stall. "Why don't you take my watch, pawn it? It's got to bring at couple hundred." Ryan pulled the new watch Kirsten had given him off his wrist and pushed it across the table. He stood up as if to leave; it'd have to be enough.

Rick looked like he was going to agree. He picked up the watch and examined it carefully. "Nice. But you're still not leaving. Now sit down."

"But I have to go and explain it to them."

Rick's arm, which had been resting below the table, slowly moved out to his side. Ryan watched in slow motion as his hand rose into view. He knew what he was going to see before it was visible and closed his eyes to the sight.

A sharp click broke the silence followed by the grainy tone of Rick's voice. "Sit. Down."

Ryan slowly sat back down in his chair, his eyes trained on the silver-plated gun gripped tightly in Rick's hand.