I was going to try to get this up earlier today, but here it is :) Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!
Still don't own, still make no money.
Chapter 5: Giving Up?
Jack jabbed the cigarette into his mouth and drew a heavy lungful of smoke from it. "You ain't callin' Green." Bobby spoke with finality to his voice as he turned to face Jerry straight on. Jeremiah was determined he was going to call Green. Bobby was determined he was going to tell Jeremiah what the hell he could and couldn't do. Hell, this could get interesting.
Jerry was right, as far as Jack could see. Hell, he wanted to know what Green had to say about his future, no matter what the hell Bobby thought. His ass was on the block here, not Bobby's. He was the one who shot Macks. Shit, he could see it now, sitting in prison for the rest of his life. He was always the one who ended up screwed over. Nothing ever worked out the way it was supposed to. It was the story of his life.
Prison, he couldn't do that. He couldn't handle being in prison. County lock up was bad enough, he would never make it one day in prison, and he knew that. He would run if he had to, but he damn sure wasn't going to prison.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he shifted his gaze towards it. Craig pulled back from peeking around the skid full of bricks still sitting in the front yard. The snow was mostly melted off the red clay, but there enough still splotching the pile that the contrast of Craig's brown hair was easy to make out. The kid had been listening in on them.
Jack cleared his throat loudly and stepped quickly through the snow that still covered most of the front yard. He glanced back to find all three of his brothers giving him confused looks. He reached the bricks and looked at the icy walkway between the two houses just in time to see the back of Craig's sweatshirt rounding the corner at the other end. He turned to look back, and was surprised to find Bobby right behind him, his gaze stuck on the form disappearing around the opposite corner.
"That sneaky little shit." Bobby muttered under his breath and turned to walk to the front door. "I will beat his ass." Puffs of steam escaped his lips with each word.
Jack reached out and grabbed Bobby's arm. "You need to calm down." He spoke quickly. "You can't talk to him if you're that pissed." He was surprised Bobby pulled to a halt so easily.
"What the fuck does he think he's doin'?" Bobby jerked his arm free of Jack's hold easily. He turned and walked back towards the sidewalk.
"What? Craig?" Angel had pulled himself off the car, apparently alarmed by the sudden activity from Jack and Bobby.
"Yeah, Craig," Bobby stepped past Angel and slammed both hands down on the hood of Jeremiah's Volvo.
Jack followed in Bobby's direction. "He's just curious, that's all." He pulled the cigarette up for another draw, but it had been smoked down to the butt. He gave the filter a flip into the yard and pulled his pack out of his coat pocket so that he could get another one. "He wants to know what's going on, man, give him a break." He could understand how it might be difficult for the kid, always being left out. "You need to let him listen. He needs to know what you decide." He came to a stop next to Jeremiah, his cigarette hanging from his lips while he dug for his lighter. Where the hell did he put it?
"Bullshit." Bobby turned and looked at Jack. "He ain't gotta know shit. He'll start thinking the worst is gonna happen, and I don't want him to worry about it, not right now. He's been doin' okay the past couple a days. I don't want to ruin that by letting him fill his head with stupid shit that ain't happened yet."
Jack finally found his lighter in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out and flicked it a few times before getting the flame. He lit the cigarette and sucked hard on it, wanting, no, needing to feel the burn of the smoke in the back of his throat. "That's a line of bull. He ain't been okay. He's hiding from the whole fucking thing, just like he always does, and you're letting him because it's easier." He finally choked out the words as he exhaled the smoke.
"He already knows what's going on Bobby, hell; it would have been hard for him to not hear shit the entire drive home." Angel laughed, but it sounded forced. "Jackie's right. Aren't you the least bit worried about him? Because you need to be, and you need to deal with him, we've all been letting it go and that ain't right." He turned to look at Bobby. "The kid ain't doin' shit right now and you ain't been paying attention to that."
Bobby frowned and stared at Angel for a long moment, looking confused. "What the hell does that mean?" He asked. "He's been doin' okay, hell, he's doin' his schoolwork without me having to say shit to him about it. He's not having nightmares, he's not arguin' about eating, and he sure as hell didn't freak out on us when he found out about havin' to go to the police station." He flashed an irritated glare in Jeremiah's direction. "Since that sick fucker died, the kid's been great."
"Great?" Angel cried out. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? You think he's doin' his ABC's and 123's? Bobby, have you seen him writing shit down? Cause, the only thing I've seen is him staring at a book for three straight days. He might change the book every once in a while, but I ain't seen him doing shit with it."
"You ain't been doin' all that great yourself Bobby." Jack muttered. He looked down at the lighter still his hand and flicked at it a few times while his mind replayed almost every conversation he'd had with Bobby over the past few days, all of them in fast forward. They all had been focused on the cops and the scheduled 'talks' they all had with them. His oldest brother had insisted on them all going over their statements together, to make sure they all matched. He'd seemed paranoid about any discrepancies. "You've been scared about the cops the whole time, haven't you?" He felt his own frown deepen. "Shit, Bobby, you've been looking for a reason not to trust the cops, haven't you?" He finally shoved the lighter back into his pocket and looked at Bobby.
Bobby let out a heavy laugh; it didn't sound the least bit cheerful. "Well Jack, we were all involved in a lot of shit over the weekend. You think the cops are just gonna wash their hands of the whole mess and let us walk away free and clear? They want their asses covered. If they have to use us to get that, then they are gonna use us. That means starting with you. You are the one who fired the fucking gun." Bobby's voice went quiet. "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna see you end up behind bars because of me, Jack. You ain't gonna end up there because you saved my ass, I ain't gonna let it happen." He closed his eyes and let his head tilt back, as if he were looking up at the sky. "Nothing has been right since Saturday, since all that shit played out. Nothing has felt right, or looked right, or sounded right."
Silence fell around them. "I'm calling Green, Bobby. Hell, I might just stop by the hospital. It's better to look him in the eyes when I ask him the hard questions, ain't it? At least that's what you always say." Jeremiah finally spoke, his voice calm and quiet. "I still don't think Green would have set us up for shit, man, I just don't see it from him. He ain't like that. He'd be opening himself up for all the shit he's done to help us out. Think about it."
Bobby's head dropped back down and he focused on Jeremiah. Jack recognized the tired look behind his brother's eyes, and he wanted to kick himself for not realizing sooner just how worried his brother had been the past few days. He'd been stupid enough to think the shit was over, and now it was becoming obvious that it was just hitting the fan.
"Okay, Jerr', you talk to Green. You make sure he knows I'm pissed and if I don't like what the fuck he says, then we're cutting all co-operation with him." Bobby sounded as if he had been drained of all his fight, and that worried Jack more than anything.
If Jack had been worried before, now he was just plain scared. Hell, if Bobby didn't have any fight left in him, where did that leave the rest of them? He'd never seen that look on his brother's face. Bobby Mercer looked defeated, and that scared Jack even more. Fear, he was sick of it. He'd lived with it most of his life, and to see it etched so deep into Bobby's features right now was just plain wrong. He sucked on the cigarette again and felt his teeth grind together. "Well, shit Bobby, why don't you just give up?" He heard himself say it before he realized he was thinking it. "Just give up on all of us."
Bobby's head slowly turned until he was looking at Jack. "What the fuck did you just say?" The tired look seemed to give way to the familiar 'pissed' face Bobby was so well known for. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you've already given up on Craig, you ain't doin' shit about him. Why the hell you even bothering to waste your time on worrying about any of us?" Jack couldn't stop the fear twisting in his gut. It wasn't that he wanted to piss Bobby off, but his mind was picturing his future wardrobe; bright orange jumpsuit. What the hell was he going to do if he was arrested for killing Adam Macks? How was it possible that God could let him live through being shot in front of his own home, only to end up going to prison for killing a sick fucker like Macks?
He'd never had a deep, soul driven belief in God. He'd never had much faith in a god that let little kids suffer, and gave sick, demented assholes free run over defenseless children who couldn't defend themselves. He'd prayed to God when he was very little, and it had never gotten him anywhere. But then he found Evelyn Mercer, his mother, and she had told him about a God that was both loving and caring, and answered prayers just at the right time. "Just think about it Jack. He answered your prayers at the perfect time, he brought you to me." Her words echoed in his head now.
He had fallen for it then. He'd let himself dare to hope that he had been saved by God somehow and that Evelyn had been chosen for him. It made him feel special to believe that when he was younger. He wanted to believe in that same God now. But he couldn't help but wonder where that God was, and why he was letting this shit happen to his family.
Bobby's hand came up from his side and smacked the side of Jack's head, hard. "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard come out of those dick lips." His voice was loud. "Damn Jack; get your head out of who's ever ass it's shoved up right now, and use your fucking brain for a change." He gave Jack a second smack before letting his hand drop. "I ain't givin' up on anything, and neither are you, okay? You ain't goin' to jail; none of us are."
Jack reached up and rubbed at the side of his head. "That hurt."
"Good." Bobby snapped back at him.
Jack could see the glare behind Bobby's eyes soften slightly before the fight seemed to gleam back into them. "Okay." He muttered and gave him a quick nod.
Bobby turned to Jeremiah. "Okay, you talk to Green, and you let me know what the fuck he has to say about all of this. Let's see if he can explain what the hell Johnson couldn't."
"Lunch is ready!" Jack called from the confines of the kitchen. He had been chosen for the task of preparing the food, while Bobby and Angel sat at the dining room table talking in quiet voices.
Craig was still seated on the couch. He had grabbed his English book and opened it as soon as the sounds of boots hit the front porch twenty minutes earlier. Jeremiah had left, but from what little bits of conversation that he'd been able to hone in on, Jerry was supposed to call Green, despite Bobby's objections to the idea, and then he was going to call them and share whatever news the Detective had for them.
Craig was able to hear very little of the conversation taking place in the dining room now. It hadn't been too bad at first, when his brothers took up their usual seats at the table, but every so often the hushed whispers gave way to almost normal talking that Craig could hear, and Bobby obviously didn't want that to happen. He stepped into the living room and turned on the television, not caring what channel was on. He turned the volume up and then returned to the dining room without saying a word to the teen on the couch. Craig let out a frustrated huff, but didn't look up from his book. He figured he wasn't missing out on much. The conversation was the same as earlier, it hadn't changed. They were going over the same things over and over again as if something would change miraculously at some point, but it never did. He still strained his ears to hear, but all he could make out were names every once in a while, nothing more.
"Hey, did you hear your brother? Lunch is ready. Get your ass in here." Bobby returned to the doorway a few minutes after Jack's announcement. Craig didn't look up from his book. He had managed to get by with eating his meals in the living room, pretty much unsupervised, and he liked it that way. He had been able to get by with tossing most of his food and no one had noticed. He liked having that control over at least on part of his life, and he didn't want to give it up.
"Can I eat in here?" He asked. Since his brothers were holding their secret conversation he was sure Bobby would give in without so much as an argument, just as he had done every other meal over the past few days. He'd probably find it more to his advantage to allow Craig to eat in the living room, again. He would be out of earshot of the talking they had to do and their conversation could continue uninterrupted.
"No, not today, I want you in here." Bobby moved back into the dining room.
Craig didn't move. He eyed the printed page in front of him, but nothing registered. Irritation burned deep in his gut. Why did Bobby have to pick now of all times to change a routine that had become familiar to him? "Why can't I eat in here?" He called out, not daring to look up.
"Because, you've been getting crumbs all over the floor when you eat in there and I ain't cleaning that shit up any more." Angel called out the answer. "Come on; eat in here with your family for a change? We need to start acting normal again. That means we eat together."
"I'll be careful." He did not want to eat. He was not going to force food into his stomach when he knew he'd just get sick on it later. He hadn't been able to eat since Saturday, just barely nibbling on the food enough that his brothers could see it enter his mouth a few times. The rest usually ended up in the trash. No one had paid enough attention to catch it, and he was grateful they all had more important things on their minds.
No one responded to his remark. He turned the page in his book, it helped to give the illusion that he was actually reading.
"Craig! Get your ass in here, I ain't telling you again." Bobby called out.
Craig raised his gaze from the pages in front of him to find Bobby back in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. "Why can't I eat in here?" He questioned again, without moving to empty his hands of the book or to stand.
"Don't make me come over there and drag you to the dining room. No more food in the living room." Bobby's voice was tight; he seemed to be holding in a yell. "We gotta start getting back to normal around here."
"Why? What's wrong with having food in the living room all of a sudden?" Craig couldn't keep his own frustration out of his voice, and he knew as soon as he'd said it that he had made a mistake, but he couldn't give up the one small grasp of control he had on his life.
Bobby moved towards him instantly, his eyes narrow. "Are you arguin' with me? You are going to move your ass to the dining room like I told you to." He reached over the coffee table, smacked the book free from Craig's hands and snatched his wrist with one quick motion.
Craig flinched at the touch while the book hit the couch, bounced and landed on the floor; he started to pull back, but Bobby gave him a jerk upward and he was forced to his feet. "No more arguin', no more sitting there with your nose stuck in a book like you're doin' something that you ain't doin'. No more eating in the living room, and no more pullin' back from me when I touch you." Bobby pulled him around the coffee table and across the floor to the dining room. He pushed him down into the chair that he'd assigned as the teen's seat weeks earlier.
Craig was surprised by the action, and the emotions inside that were stirring around on him, trying to break free from the dormant state they had been lingering in. Anger that had emptied out when he had focused so much of it on Adam Macks had had the chance to grow roots deeper inside than he'd ever imagined over the past few days of numbness. He could feel the heat building in his face, as embarrassment filled him, melding with the anger of being forced into the dining room. Angel was looking at him with a scowl, as if he wanted to say something.
Bobby grabbed hold of the back of the chair and slid it towards the table until Craig's stomach was snuggly resting against it. Jack walked in with a bowl of salad and plate of sandwiches, looking confused by the tension that seemed to have filled the room. Bobby walked around the table towards the kitchen. "We need bowls?" He asked; ignoring the angry stare Craig was boring into him.
"Yeah," Jack muttered, looking at Craig while he set the food in the middle of the table.
"And paper towels." Angel muttered as he stood and walked to the kitchen ahead of Bobby.
Bobby looked down at the boy. "Don't you dare move," He warned him before following Angel.
Jack turned to head back into the kitchen, but stopped and turned back to Craig. "You want some milk?" He asked.
Craig shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself back from the table.
"You, want some juice?" Jack made a second attempt.
Craig sat back in the chair and stared at the food on the table. His mind was trying to map out some kind of plan for trying to escape the inevitable.
"He'll drink milk." Bobby called from the kitchen. "You stay in there with him Jack. I don't trust him right now."
The statement drew Craig's attention. He looked up at Jack, and didn't like the smirk that played across his face. "I guess you should stay in the house when you know we're having a private conversation, huh?" He stepped to his chair and pulled it away from the table so that he could sit. "Stupid shit like that makes some people wonder what the hell else you might be up to when we ain't watching. You know?" He reached out and grabbed hold of one of the ham sandwiches. He picked a small chunk of the crust away and started rolling it around between his fingers. He looked at Craig and flashed him a wide grin.
Craig felt his throat tighten. They had seen him outside. Shit.