Rock and A Hard Place 4

Angel pulls me into the living room, followed by Jack, moving me to the couch to shove me down into it. I let myself sink into the cushions as the blanket on the back starts to fall on my shoulders. Honestly, it's kinda comforting being enveloped by this couch. It also feels like I'm being eaten, so I shrug off the blanket.

Angel isn't rough with me, but even as he stands back I can tell he is still pissed. Jack stops to stand by the chair and the fireplace, and the two exchange a glance.

"Alex." Angel starts firmly. I look up into his dark eyes. "Look around you, kid. Everyone here loves you and that ain't gonna change at the drop of a hat. But you can't do this shit. You can't lie and deal drugs. You're gonna get your ass killed."

Jack nods slowly, his crazy hair bobbing in agreement and I lower my head uncomfortably. Unlike Bobby though, Angel doesn't look for my verbal answer. He just shifts on his feet as our oldest two brothers walk in.

Jerry whispers something to Bobby, who stops near the doorframe, eyeing us. Jerry clears his throat. "We goin' to talk to Cray about this and pay him back." He glances at Jack. "You watch him." He nods at me.

Jack nods. "Don't worry, he's not moving."

I go to protest, rising slightly in my seat. "Aw Jerry…"

"No." Bobby says, straightening up. "You fucked around with this too long. We're ending it and you're not coming. You don't get a say."

I close my mouth, avoiding his cold gaze. I don't really want to go. Cray scares the shit out of me and probably everyone else. I mostly just don't want to feel like a little kid getting babysat by his older brother. I'm not two, Bobby. But I don't say it out loud, that shit could get a man killed.

Bobby nods. Angel turns back, walking to meet up with Jerry and the three of them file out of sight. Jack and I stay in silence as we listen to them leave the house and start up the car. It takes three times to get the engine working, but then they head out.

It feels too quiet and I realize I haven't been alone at the house or with only one other person since Mom died.

It's crazy to think about. Kinda weird too.

Jack looks me over, the shadows on his face dark from the light filtering through the front window. "You okay?" he asks.

Honestly, I don't know what to say, so I just sit there. I royally fucked up. In the history of Mercer failures and shenanigans, this probably takes the cake. My eyes burn when I think about how Ma would've reacted. The disappointment in her eyes and the soft way she would talk, unless I wouldn't answer her or lied, then she'd raise her voice. I just shrug. "Bobby's going to kill me." I say.

It isn't a question and Jack knows it. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet before turning around to find the chair and sit down. He meets my gaze. "Maybe."

I snort. "Thanks, Jack. You're a real help." I purse my lips.

Jack's face hints at a smile as he leans forward in his chair. "I don't know what to tell you. I never did anything like this."

"Really?"

Jack nods. "Really. I'm not saying I haven't done anything wrong, just never this."

I exhale slowly, switching my gaze to the opposite wall and we sit in silence again.

Jack slowly clears his throat. "So, why did you do it?"

I want to roll my eyes, groan, and leave the room. I don't know. Not you too, Jack. Everyone already grilled me, now you too. "I already said."

"No, you didn't. He says simply. "You gave some lame excuses. I know you better than that." He voice is kind, but serious. He's right, but it almost scares me. I'm not planning on telling him. I can't.

I keep looking away, not able to bring myself to talk.

"Why the hell do you do this?" He asks, not for the first time this week.

I look back at my brother. "What?"

"This." He gestures to me. "You clam up and don't talk. I just want to help. To talk. C'mon, man."

I shake my head. "I said it all already, Jack."

He shakes his head in annoyance. "So you said."

"I meant it." I fire back, glaring at him.

He watches me closely, slowly opening his mouth, squaring himself to me. "I know. I also know you're lying." Then he turns back to look at the adjacent wall, he eyes leaving mine, and letting himself sink into the chair with his arms firmly on the rests.

Something about his words cut into me. Bobby and Angel yell and storm around when they're angry or they know I'm lying, but there's something about the quiet confidence, knowledge, and frustration of Jerry and Jack that affects me. I want to tell Jack, because he does know I'm lying, but he isn't flipping a damn table about it. He is quietly confronting me like and equal. Not some little punk ass kid.

I watch him some more before answering. "I thought it'd be cool." I say. Jack turns in surprise, not so much at my answer but that I answered at all. "I wanted some cash and I wanted to try it. I like the idea of it. The kids— the one's at my school who do it— they get everything they want." I admit.

"That's it?" He seems to believe me, taking in my words slowly.

I shrug. "Yeah. Like I said, I already told you guys everything."

Jack scratches his nose. "What about your friend—?"

"D'shawn?"

"Yeah, him. Did he get into it?"

I shake my head.

Jack cracks a small smile. "You know, you could answer with words, it works too."

Again, I'm struck by how different the youngest of my older brothers is. Kind of like me, I think.

"So your friend didn't want you to do it, he didn't do it." He pauses, almost waiting for me to affirm what he said. "Do you think Ma wanted you to get involved in drugs?"

That hurts. It's like a knife jabbed just below my jugular and I feel a lump rise in my throat like tears waiting to push out. It hurts a lot. No! I want to yell. Of course Ma didn't want me too. She would have been ashamed because she worked so hard for so long to keep us all on the straight path and doing the right thing. This would have hurt her.

Then I can't help it and the tears come to my eyes. Damn conviction. Damn Jack. Damn Cray and his money and his words. Damn my own stupidity. I let my head drop in shame. And from the top of my head, I can see a blurry Jack nod his own head. Yeah, he knows what he said.

"I'm sorry." I choke out from the tears and built up saliva, as gross and pitiful as it is. "Ma would've, would've been so—"

Jack nods, understandingly, but cuts me off. "Ma would've forgiven you."

I look up quickly, the action causing a tear to run down my cheek. I swipe at my face quickly, eyeing my brother. He looks at me sadly. "Jerry and Angel, hell, even Bobby will too. It'll take some time. Yeah, you fucked up, and you got caught, but you're alive and you're done with that now, right?"

I nod slowly, letting my head drop to look at my worn out jeans, not wanting to answer. Even though Jack asked a question, there's just something that tells me he doesn't need an answer. He needs me to know my answer, but I don't need to say it.

So we sit again in silence and I pick at the hem of my jeans, slowly rubbing my fingers together and working a lose thread out from its hole.

"Bobby's still gonna beat my ass though." I say slowly, again, it isn't a question, just the facts.

Jack shrugs. "Probably."

I look up again. "Thanks for the support." I say sarcastically, but not unkindly.

He grins. "I said you fucked up, didn't I? And Bobby's still pissed; he'll want to make sure it doesn't happen again."

I shake my head. "It doesn't have to be like that." I mumble, but Jack must hear it because I notice his smile widen and he shakes his head. Because we both know it does, because Bobby is Bobby and he just works that way. It's almost worse hearing it from Jack in a slow and tempered way, but I did fuck up. So yeah, Bobby will nail me for it, and I deserve it, but we'll move on.

Jack shifts faster this time, pulling up from the slouch and looking around the room. "We still have any games?" He asks.

I give him a look.

What are we, the Brady bunch?

Good grief. But I still shrug. "I guess. We never dumped any of the stuff. Ma used to have some cards and like a board game or something in the hall closet." I nod towards the main room beyond the living room wall.

Jack nods, standing, and turns to disappear into the dinning room. I hear him open the door and something fall to the ground loudly, then a corresponding string of curses from my brother. I allow myself a small smile. The boxes were always kind of precarious; I guess he found that out the hard way. Soon enough though, Jack walks back in with two bent, old decks of cards in his hands.

He holds them up, looking at me. "Wanna play?"

I shrug.

He nods again, sitting down in the chair he recently vacated and shoving the coffee table between him and myself. He places the deck down on the hard wood. "Know how to play solitaire?" He doesn't look up at me as he sorts the cards.

I swipe at my nose casually. "That's for one person."

He gives frustrated snort. "Not shit, really?" He looks over at me. "No. We go head to head, see who can finish their stack first." He holds his cards, indicating the other worn deck closer to me.

I shrug and slap a hand down on it, slowly dragging it across the table. I pick the cards up and break the deck in half. I start to shuffle, or try, I don't get very far and Jack grabs my deck and starts shuffling them like he's a regular croupier. It's weird too, seeing my punk rocker brother preparing a game of cards in this living room. Compared to all the other crazy shit that's happened lately, this feels too normal, but at the same time, so weird. Too weird. I shiver.

Jack tosses me my cards and starts in on his own, laying them out in piles. I do the same, glancing at his to see the set up. I'm shit at this. Twenty-eight cards, seven piles, all spread out from one card to seven in a pile. Honestly, I've only played this game once and I gave up pretty quickly; it just didn't make sense to me.

Jack checks the card in the pile of one, flipping it over. He raises his eyebrows.

"I have a seven." Jack says, looking at me. "You?"

I give him a blank look. What the hell…?

Jack leans forward, flipping over the card in my one card stack. He holds it up for me to see. "Four. Your move." He sets it back down, eyes still fixed on me. I look down at my cards again.

Jack sighs. "You need to flip 'em over, kid. You can't play with the back of the cards."

I mumble a quick apology and start flipping the cards over so I can see their numbers and suites. Apparently this is more complicated than it looks.

XXXX

Jack wins the first game easily. And the second and thirds games too. We don't talk much, mostly we focus on playing. Or at least Jack does, I fumble around and stare blankly at the cards until he tells me what I should do for my turn. We did turn-based play, so it wasn't even about speed, but I suck at Solitaire and noticing the numbers and solutions and patterns.

My brother sighs. "You ever played Solitaire before?" Jack looks up at me, before collecting his cards in a pile to shuffle and set them up again. "Because you play like shit. You gotta try, Alex."

"Yeah. Sorta."

"What don't you get?" He probs.

I shrug, glancing up at him. "I'm just distracted is all."

Jack snorts. "Sure, kid, that's the problem."

I shrug, slowly picking up the individual cards and collecting them in my hand. "It doesn't even make sense. You already went over the rules; it just doesn't stick for me. We could stop." I say.

Jack shakes his head, shifting in his seat. He splits his deck in half, bending the worn cards slightly. "Well let's make it stick." He begins to shuffle his cards again. I groan, pushing my complete deck back on to the coffee table and falling back into the couch cushions.

"I can't."

Jack sighs, mumbling something like, "Damn kid." To himself.

I don't look back at him though; I just stare up at the discolored, formerly white ceiling. There's some minor water damage turning it yellow and brown in one corner. I never noticed that before.

I hear Jack shove his deck aside, rising, and walking over to the TV to snatch the remote. He starts to walk back, turning briefly over his shoulder to flip it on.

"What's on?" I ask, letting my right arm flop on to the couch. Jack settles back in his chair before turning the volume on. Helpful thing, that volume button. "Mmph."

I pull my neck up to look at him, but Jack's transfixed on the TV screen. It looks like 60 Minutes. Who even watches that crap? I shake my head, letting it fall back down and give a slight bounce when it hits the couch cushion.

It smells like butt. I decide to get up and walk to the kitchen.

"Hey!" Jack calls as I walk through the door into the dinning room. "Where the hell are you going?"

I pop my head back in, meeting his eyes. "Food."

Jack cracks a small smile before looking back at the remote. I head back towards the kitchen, pulling open the fridge.

I hear Jack come in too, walking straight over to open a cabinet and grab two plates. I glance up at him questioningly.

"I forgot we didn't eat." He says as an explanation.

I just shrug. "What can you cook?" I ask.

"Plenty."

I nod slowly. "What do you want to cook?"

Jack grins. "Nothing, little brother. But sandwiches works, right?"

"Yeah, yeah that's good." I lean into the fridge, grabbing some of Bobby's salami, a head of lettuce, and some provolone cheese. Jack snags the bread out of the cabinet too and drops the loaf by the plates, untwisting the tie to open the bag.

Jack set to cutting the bread into slices, putting them on the plates, and getting the mayonnaise out of the fridge. I slap some slices of meat, cheese, and peel off pieces of lettuce to put in our sandwiches. Jack quirks an eyebrow at me, but doesn't call me on it. Hey, when you gotta eat, you gotta eat.

And we do, in silence. It wasn't a proud moment for the two youngest Mercer brothers as we lean up against the cabinets in the small kitchen and inhale our dinner. Ma would've been mortified and chased us out with a wooden spoon. Probably.

We just have bullshit manners.

Jack seems to think so too, because he glances at the door to the dinning room to his left. "We should probably sit." He says, contemplatively.

I shrug, taking another bite, which gets mayo on the side of my mouth. I give him a confirming nod. Again, probably.

Jack shrugs too. But neither of us moves to go sit down like civilized people. We just eat loudly and wait for our brothers to get home.

XXXX

RRIIIING

RRIIIIIIIIINNG

I groan, feeling like I'm being stretched from the darkness of sleep into a loud and rude reality. I crack an eye open, or try to, but it closes shut again, crusty from sleep. I raise my eyebrows too, but that doesn't open my eyes and frankly, I don't want it to.

RRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG

I move my head forward quickly to get to the phone, but it smacks against something hard and my eyes fly open. "Shit!"

Damn mornings.

I realize I'm on the couch, in the living room, and my left leg fell asleep. The pins and needles sting and pinch my calf muscle and the ball of my foot and I rub it.

RRIII—

I'm going to shoot that phone or throw it up against the wall and watch it swing on its cord. But Jack picks it up before it finishes the last blaring screech of its' song. I rub my head, slowly sitting up and stretching my arms.

I slept well, that much I know. But it is too damn early to be awake on a Saturday. I don't know what time it is, but guaranteed, it is too damn early.

Jack appears in the doorway, he hair messier than usual, if that is even possible. He's still in clothes from yesterday, so we probably were both sleeping on the living room furniture. Making Mom proud one moment at a time.

"Who was that?" I mumble groggily.

"Bobby." I perk up, watching him. He comes to sit back on the couch next to me, his weight causing the cushion to pull down towards him and I feel myself slide slightly.

XXXXX

TBC

Wow. Thank y'all again for the continued support. I'm sorry it is taking me so long to update this one. I promise I'll get better at this in the future. Hopefully.