Bailey was shaking slightly as Charlie paced angrily around the room. "Look, I'm sorry, man. I know it was stupid."

"Stupid? Stupid doesn't begin to cover it, Bay," roared Charlie. They were waiting for Officer Thurmond to return with information about whether management would be prosecuting Bailey.

"Okay, so I screwed up. What do you think they will do?"

"Well, they could arrest you. In fact, that's probably what they are doing right now. Calling the police. Getting ready to haul you off. And you better believe I am going to let you sit on your ass in jail overnight." After a moment, Charlie added, "Was this her idea?"

Bailey saw red. He hated when Charlie, who had been a chronic troublemaker in school, acted like Jill was a bad influence. Really? Did Charlie forget that he knew about the record-setting-nine-days-in-a-row that his big brother had spent in the principal's office! "No. It wasn't Jill's idea," Bailey spat out.

"You're just into ladies' sunglasses, is that it? Is there something you want to tell me, Bay?" Charlie leaned in menacingly close to his little brother's face.

But before the boy could answer, Officer Thurmond opened the door and said, "Well, you're lucky, son. Management's decided not to press charges."

Bailey stood up and said, "Thank you, sir. Thanks."

"We really appreciate that, Officer Thurmond," Charlie added. "And it won't happen again. I promise. Isn't that right, Bay?"

"Yes. I mean, no, it won't happen again, sir," stated Bailey.

"And we won't see you in Nordstrom again for two years, Bailey. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said both boys.

With that, Charlie took Bailey by the arm and led him to the exit. Charlie half-led, half-dragged his brother to the car. Bailey objected several times, especially after seeing three of his baseball teammates snickering. However, these complaints fell on deaf ears.

Once they were in the truck, Charlie said, "SHOPLIFTING, Bailey? What were you thinking?"

The teenager looked at his feet, but said nothing.

"You're in major trouble, here, Bailey. You better talk to me."

"Why should I explain it to you?" the boy suddenly shouted. "It's nothing you haven't done before… probably! I remember how much trouble you used to get into, Charlie. Where do you get off acting like you're a saint? I heard about those nine days you spent in the principal's office."

"Oh yeah," whispered Charlie dangerously as he grabbed the front of Bailey's jacket and pulled him so that they were nearly touching noses. "So… you remember how Dad reacted to those nine days then?"

Bailey looked blank. He'd only been nine years-old at the time, and no one at home ever talked about Charlie's troublemaking. Bailey had heard those stories through his classmates, especially the ones with older siblings. His brother's feats were something of legend at his high school.

Charlie stared at him, furiously. "Well, when we get home, I'll remind you."