Dare Me (23 page)

“Nine, and Jesse’s the closer. All by himself,” Ricky answers. His voice is scratchy, like he’s been at a concert screaming his head off. I wonder how things are at home. I should ask, but when and how am I going to do that?

The lights start popping off at the front of the lot. A car with a tree strapped to the roof drives off. It’s 9:05, time to roll.

“Masks, boys,” Ricky says and pulls out his own.

We each retrieve the plastic elf faces that he picked up for us. Mine is super tight and in an instant condensation builds on my lip. Ricky turns and looks at us. “You know the plan. Simple grab and tackle. No one says a fucking word from here on out.”

I wish I possessed the ability to plan this, but I was either too scared or too smart to run the reconnaissance. Ricky didn’t mind. Trevor helped, and now here we are about to move ahead with a plan that is all about vengeance.

My heart races. I’ve been in a couple of fights, but nothing serious, nothing like this. But I’m worried. Not about my fighting skills—it’s four on one—but the aftermath. We may put him in the hospital, and I don’t know how I feel about that. But then I think of Alexia. And of Trevor. Still, if we do this, are we any better than him?

And I have to wonder, would I have ever considered this possible before I started these dares?

The rest of the lights blink off, and the only illumination that remains comes from the little booth where Jesse has a register and a small heater. He’s counting the cash as our boots crunch over the snow. He looks up when Ricky taps on the window, and for a second, he stares. That second is all it takes for Ricky and John to pull him out of the booth and send him sprawling into the snow.

John tugs my arm and points at Jesse. This is my fight, but I’m stuck, can’t move. Ricky’s not. He takes two steps like he’s kicking a field goal and then splits the uprights with Jesse’s head. Jesse falls onto his back, and I turn away. I’m sure the point we’re trying to prove has been made with that one blow, but the sound of fists on flesh rises behind me.

I stand apart from the guys, cloaked in darkness and surrounded by Christmas trees. My family comes here, but we haven’t yet this year. There’s no way I’m coming back after this.

Someone grabs my shoulder and spins me, then punches me square in the nose. I fall to the ground, blood pouring out. I brace for more, but my attacker moves on, drops John, who is standing back while Ricky and Trevor are wailing away on Jesse.

Blood fills my throat and I hack to clear it. I rip the broken mask from my face and see Trevor kicking Jesse. He and Ricky don’t know what’s coming at them. I scream, “Ricky!” but it’s drowned in my throat. John sits up and his mask is gone. His eye is swollen shut. What the fuck happened?

I get to my knees in time to see the bat. It flashes under the lights before it is swung, taking out Ricky’s and then Trevor’s legs in one swoop. They cry out and fall to the ground next to Jesse.

Ricky and Trevor hold their knees and scream, while Jesse hoists himself up. He’s blood-soaked and disheveled, but looks outraged.

“John, let’s go. Get help.”

“You aren’t going anywhere, bitches. Stand up.”

I don’t need to turn around to know who is at my back. Danny Blackman’s voice is distinct, deeper than any teacher’s. Which means the one with the bat must be Chris Carsdale.

I look over at John and he’s got his hands raised like a gun’s to him. Carsdale has a bat to his chin. I scramble up and move toward my friends, but am forced right back down by a boot to the ass.

I stand, sure that a bat’s going to crack my skull, but none does. John appears at my side, and he helps me up. We move to Ricky and Trevor. They’re still holding their knees but are crying out less. Jesse is on his feet, wiping off his face. He looks at us, and I’d rather risk running through Carsdale’s swing than face him.

“You all must have a death wish.” Jesse looks at the guys on the ground. “Stand the fuck up!”

They don’t move, so Danny and Chris hoist them up and pin them against a wall of Christmas trees. “Stand with them,” Jesse barks to John and me. We move.

The guys’ eyes are wide with fear and none can stand straight. They lean on one another, and this feels like an execution line. Danny hands Jesse a bat. He paces before us and smacks it into his palm.

“So the four of you asstards thought you could take me out?” He laughs. It’s beyond disturbing because he’s covered in blood and seems not the least bit bothered by this fact.

“What I want to know is why.” He stills and looks at each of us. “Sure, fudge-packer, Trev may have some beef, but I haven’t done shit to him in a while. Or are you three really so tight that you’d help him out, anyway?”

I breathe through my mouth, feeling very much like an animal—scared, stupid, and utterly at this asshole’s mercy. The only safe connection is Trevor, but we can’t do that to him, make this about his history, even if that’s what Jesse thinks. But the only other card is Alexia, and we sure as hell can’t play that one either. We’re screwed.

“Pretty much,” Ricky says, and his voice is strong and makes me feel slightly better.

Jesse stops before him and leans the bat into his chest. “So you’re a little fag, too?” He spits. “Never would have expected that.” He pushes the bat in deeper and steps back. “That the same for you two?”

Jesse’s looking at John and me. We don’t move. “That’s right.” Jesse removes the bat from Ricky’s chest and moves toward us. “Big boy here’s been too busted up for any action, so who knows? But you,” he points the end of the bat at me, “you’re into that sweet, sweet Chantel.”

Jesse looks over his shoulder. “She is a good time, isn’t she, boys?”

Danny and Chris nod and grin like the ghouls they are.

“Yeah, we partied over the summer.
All
of us. You get me, Ben?” He steps directly before me.

I feel sickened and am ashamed because I feel this way. I don’t know if he’s lying or telling the truth, but the fact is, I can imagine Chantel doing that. She used me for one night and then kicked me to the curb. Or did she? Didn’t this asshole get in the way of everything because of what he did to Alexia? Shit, what about Alexia?

“I get you,” I say. “I know all about you, you spineless asshole.”

Everyone stills and Jesse tilts his head. “What did you say to me?”

“You heard me, but I’ll repeat it if you’d like.” I’ve lost my mind. It’s that simple. The adrenaline rush is so similar to that of the dares that I’m not thinking straight. Jesse has a bat pointed at my head and I’m calling him out. Dad may have been right to get me away from Ricky all those years ago.

Jesse smiles. “Now I understand. Little Benny wanted to hurt me because I hurt Alexia.”

“Fuck you, Jesse. Either put us all in the hospital or let us go, because listening to you is a worse punishment than death.” Trevor does not lisp once.

Jesse rushes to him, gets right in his face. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“You’re Jesse Holmes, and I’m Trevor Culin. Seems like you’ve forgotten.”

I may be losing it, but Trevor is completely gone.

Jesse raises the bat. “Exactly. And soon, when I split your head open with this bat, you won’t remember anything.”

I cringe at what I know is coming, but John bolts. The bat is midswing when he gets there and blocks just like he’s done so many times on the court. The bat flies out of Jesse’s hands and skips across the ground. I dive for it, and see Ricky do the same. I get to it first and stand.

Everyone is frantic, crouched, waiting for the next move. John’s holding his bad arm, probably messed up again from what he did. Ricky’s watching the bat and nodding at Jesse. Blackman and Carsdale have moved to Jesse’s side. Trevor stands tall.

“Guys, go.”

“Ben, what? It’s only a bat. You can’t take all three of them on,” Ricky says.

“Goddamn it, Ricky, shut the fuck up and do what
I
say! Now!” My scream echoes and everyone is still again. But a moment later, John, Ricky, and Trevor walk past me to the car, Ricky whispering, “Don’t try to be a hero.”

Now, it’s only me.

“So what’s your move here, Ben?” Jesse asks, not as brave as before, but not entirely scared either.

I’m shaking inside, but I know I can’t let him see it. “There’s no move, Jesse. I’m not like you. But I will say this, if you touch Alexia or Trevor again, I’ll find a way to take you out.”

“I’ve seen who you know. I’m not so fucking scared, but thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to, uh, pass it along to Alexia.”

I grip the bat and step forward. I could reach him from here, could get his leg or his temple, somehow mess up all his athletic plans. But I might not connect. Danny or Chris might jump in the way, like John. Shit, poor John.

“Believe me, don’t believe me, that’s your call. But I dare you to try me. You have no idea of what I’m willing to do.”

Jesse looks at me and a spark of something new alters his face. He sees me, but it’s not me. Holding the bat, realizing what I’ve said, I see it, too. I’m not the same person anymore.

I turn away, not afraid, and join my friends.

I climb in shotgun and Ricky looks at me. “Everything cool?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “But let’s go before they get any ideas.”

Ricky takes off and Trevor leans over the seat. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Any time, Trev.” I mean this.

“I thought you would like to know we have a little security.”

I turn in my seat and look at him. He holds up a voice recorder and presses play:

“You’re Jesse Holmes, and I’m Trevor Culin. Seems like you’ve forgotten.”

“Exactly. And soon, when I split your head open with this bat, you won’t remember anything.”

Trevor turns the recorder off. “We’re safe.” He smiles and I’d love to return it, but he didn’t see what I saw in Jesse’s eyes.

“For now.”

—

We’ve dropped everyone off,
Trevor last, so I’m walking since the condo’s just over from his development. But I wait for Ricky to return. He looks worse than I feel.

“Is he okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, just a bad bruise. Nothing’s broken, I don’t think.”

I nod. “He sure stepped it up tonight, didn’t back down from Jesse at all.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of his stupid ass.”

“You think Jesse’s going to tell the cops?”

Ricky sighs. “No, not his style. Besides, we’ve got Trevor’s recording. Slip that to him in an email. Guarantee he stays away.”

I feel like saying something about what I saw in Jesse. But how do I describe that? “That’s a good plan, and since we’re already conferencing with O. P. we should probably let him know, in case.”

“True, but I doubt Jesse will pull another copycat.”

He’s right. “Yeah, but just to be safe.”

“I guess so.”

“When we talking to him?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t gotten back to me.” Ricky looks away, and I don’t like the move.

“So
you
tell
him
.”

Ricky looks at me now. “He calls the shots, not us.”

“Bullshit!
We
call the shots. You realize we signed and none of us are eighteen. He’s got no power. I’m out unless we talk.” I say this, but after what happened with Jesse, I don’t even know if I believe it.

Ricky grabs my shoulder and spins me. “One, quit using that line, it’s an empty threat. And two, you can’t be out. Not after all this.”

“I can’t? Watch me.” I turn again, expecting him to get me in a headlock this time. That was a dick move on my part. Instead, I hear him plead behind me.

“Please don’t do this, Ben.” For possibly the first time in my life, I realize that Ricky is on the verge of tears.

I step back to him. “Rick, I’m sorry. This is too much. I know getting back at Jesse was my idea, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see the writing on the wall. Tonight did not go as planned. And more than that, big picture, I’m worried about O. P. Have you ever been to his site? We’re never mentioned or linked. I’m not even sure he works there.”

“Yeah, yeah, you figured all this out because you’re so fucking smart. You see everything. You understand everything.” He shoots me such a dirty look, he either ignored what I said or it hurt that much. “How’s everything with Chantel working out? Huh?” His eyes are brimming and his face is flushed. “We all heard what Jesse said.”

I look away. “I don’t know. I think she used me, but I have no idea why.”

“I’m sorry about that. Shit, I know the feeling. But don’t use this as an excuse. Don’t go running because you’re scared, Ben. That’s what you always do.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not scared; I want answers.”

“No, you don’t. You want shit to go the way you want it to, because you’re scared of everything. Like with Chantel. You’re with her because she’s the second best option to Alexia. And now you’re talking shit about O. P. because all the pieces aren’t neatly in place. Because you believe that we—or you—should be running the show. Guess what, we’re not.”

Ricky takes a deep breath and moves closer to me, dropping his voice. “You would know that if you ever read the contract you begged me for. You think it won’t hold up because we’re not eighteen? There’s a clause in there around that point. Yeah, that’s his money if we walk. He can ask for
all of it
back.” He lets that point settle before moving on.

“There, that’s your life. It’s a fucking mess and you can’t run from it because you’re a scared little boy, too afraid to recognize who you are and what you want.” Ricky’s voice is hoarse, but his words are sharp.

“Ricky, I . . .”

“Don’t, Ben. I can’t handle another excuse. Tonight was way fucked up and it’s because we did something to help you and to help Alexia. Don’t confuse that in all the little excuses you’re creating.”

“And to get back at that asshole for Trev.” Now I cut him off. “Don’t forget that.”

Ricky steps closer to me, and he looks so drained I don’t know how he’s standing. “I know, Ben. I do. You and me, we’re not that different. We were boys in middle school. You, me, and John. Shit changed and we went our separate ways. But you can’t dismiss that we’re back together for some reason bigger than us. I know I blew smoke with the legacy shit. But maybe this is it. Not the way we planned, but so what?”