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On the ride to Brockton, Tommy did his best to
fill Pierre in on what he was needed to do. What Tommy needed Pierre to do
was basically, nothing. Don’t say a
word, don’t make a move. Act like you’re watching everything and
everybody. I need you to look like you don’t trust anyone in the room.
They drove in silence after the instructions were given.
Tommy was now officially concerned for his friends, well being. He had
never known Pierre to be this quiet. There were periods that any person went
through when they were very not talkative, pensive or down right shy, but he
had never known Pierre to be completely absorbed in his thoughts. He was
truly oblivious to the outside world.
Tommy turned the volume of the radio higher, letting the bass from
the song and his almost obnoxiously loud system, shake his car and clear his
thoughts. The scenery passed by quickly in the slightly illuminated darkness
of seven fifteen in November. Snow had fallen briefly on the road, and it
lay on the yards and sidewalks in front of the houses, white and
unblemished. In the morning, it would have either melted away, or been
dirtied by footprints, but now, it was the most beautiful thing in the
world.
The fresh snow reminded Tommy of when he was a young boy, innocent
and precocious. He remembered the first day of Christmas break. It was
always a Friday that the schools let their students loose on the world to
celebrate the holidays with their families, and it always seemed that the
world was on the verge of a great snowstorm on those Fridays. It was ironic that they even tried to conduct classes on those
Friday’s, considering that each and every student was thoroughly engulfed
in what they were going to get for Christmas or the teams for the snowball
fight on Monday morning. The game could have been on Saturday, but there was
more fun being together on a Monday, and knowing that there was no school
for the entire week. The bell rang and the students exploded into the
hallway and then out into the air that seemed a little fresher now that the
school lost its spell on the students, momentarily. A thousand little feet
destroyed the white snow that covered the ground lightly. Footprints going
in every direction, straight, left, right and sometimes in circles. The
students would meet outside, as far away from the school as possible, and
plot that following Monday’s activity. Even though the students all
gathered together outside the school, they still felt it was appropriate to
run as fast as they could away from the school, before they made their
plans. It was a matter of the school reaching out and grabbing the slowest
or laziest students, and pulling them back inside for more dreaded
education. It was mandatory that each and every student run as fast as they
could out of the building, never looking back and never slowing down, until
they were far away from the school, and safe.
When they reached a safe distance, the popular kids would gather and
make the plans for the Monday snowball fight. Even at a young age, Tommy had
already exhibited undeniable charisma that had drawn the other students to
him. He stood in the middle of the circle and started to set the times for
the snowball fight. He was thirteen, and as precocious and wild as any of
the boys that gathered, but he was already a born leader that was always
fair and level headed. He stood with his running mates, John and Casper.
Caspers real name was Chris, but nobody ever called him that. He was the
whitest person that had ever lived, in the minds of the boys of St. Mary’s
Elementary School. He was a blonde haired, blue eyed boy whose skin was very
fair. The boys used to rag on him constantly, saying that he got sunburned
at night, under the moon. He was a “good shit”, though and never let on
that it bothered him.
What time can you meet us, Casper?” said John in his
pre-pubescent voice that had just begun to crack and show signs of manhood.
“I dunno, like, fuckin’, eight , eight thirty. My Mom’s been a
bitch lately.”
Tommy stepped back and then stepped forward into his footprint that
he left in the fresh snow.
“Tommy said, “Can you get there at eight?”
Casper looked at Tommy and then shot a quick glance at Johnny. He
looked nervous, like he always did. With a complexion that led to a name
like Casper, it was a constant struggle to look cool, and he was used to
having to disobey and annoy his parents at the expense of his ass, in order
to earn points with the boys of St. Mary’s.
“I can be there”, he said timidly, he added, “ What’s going
on with you and Steve ‘Shithead” Walsh?”
Casper was referring to the well-talked about and already overblown
shoving match that had ensued between Steve and Tommy during recess. As the
truth went, Tommy had tagged Steve in kickball at second base. Apparently,
Steve thought the only reason that the tag was made, was because his foot
was blocking the base. Tommy disagreed, and was shoved hard for his
disagreement. Tommy shoved back and the teachers broke it up. As the story
went, Tommy shoved Steve of the base and then started to punch him in the
face. The fact that neither boy was suspended, nor Steve had no bruises,
didn’t make a difference to the boys of St. Mary’s as they eagerly set
the stage for a big confrontation Monday morning during the snowball fight.
‘He started a fight with me. He’s a dick”.
“He’s a super-dick”, said John with a smile.
The boys all laughed for a moment, but stopped when Steve and his
group of friends walked over to their circle and started to push and shove.
Tommy stood with his fists clenched and prepared himself for a fight.
That year, Christmas was on a Sunday. Tommy awoke to find the
presents all accounted for under the tree, the dinner in the oven, but the
fight was on his mind. All day, while he should have been playing with his
knew toys, riding his new bike, around the living room at least, or trying
on his new clothes, he was agonizing over the outcome of the fight. It
wasn’t Steve “The Shithead” he was worried about, not at all. He knew
he could beat Steve in the fight. It was his “boys” he was worried
about. Tommy knew that Steve would have his friend’s jump in to the fight
when it was undeniable who would win, but he wasn’t sure if they would
wait that long before getting involved. He expected that they would get into
the fight almost immediately, but he needed to be positive that if and when
they did, his “boys” would be there to help him. He knew John was a
tough talker, but by thirteen, he had already learned that tough talk
didn’t amount to much more than talk. He knew for certain that Casper
would get involved, and would fight until it was over. That was just the
kind of person that Casper was, he was a fighter. He had been fighting the
cancer that destroyed his immune system, he had been fighting the sun that
attempted, on a daily basis, to ruin his skin, and he had been fighting the
teasing boys of St. Mary’s that tried to destroy his ego and good humor.
As Tommy would later find out, none of the attempts worked, because Casper
never stopped fighting.
The morning of the fight, Tommy was up at six a.m.. He ate a quick
breakfast of Kellogs Wheaties, he needed the strength, and four pieces of
toast. he walked out his front door at seven thirty and felt the cold air
smash against his warm cheeks. Immediately, the harsh and bitterly cold
wind, froze his cheeks, making them red and puffy. They also made them numb.
Win or lose, I am not going to feel a
thing until much later.
He walked to the field alone and waited for more students to show
up. A few minutes later, the first of the students trickled to the field,
dressed in the best “play” clothes they had received the day before.
They were girls, so they were neither helpful, nor harmful in the potential
fight. The girls stood far away from Tommy, because they had heard of the
fight, and they didn’t want to pick sides, until the fight was over. Each
girl took turns stealing peeks at Tommy as he rubbed his hands against the
cold and waited for either John or Casper to show. Ironically, the boys
showed up a moment later and neither looked intimidated.
“What did you get yesterday?, Tommy asked the boys as the stamped
their feet against the biting cold.
Casper smiled and said, “I got a bike and Nintendo, with Mario
Kart, and a bunch of dress-up clothes. What did you get?”
Tommy smiled for the first time all day and said, “I got a bike,
too, and lots of clothes.”
John interrupted the pair by saying that Steve was coming down the
hill and towards the field. Three or four other kids who included his older
brother and his older brother’s friend surrounded him. That wasn’t fair
to involve a bigger kid, a fifteen-year old, in the fight, but it was
nonetheless happening.
The snow had begun to fall in large flakes, and
the wind made the temperature fell sub arctic.
Tommy, John and Casper stood in the middle of the field, watching the
large group approach. Steve was a normal sized boy for his age, with a dark
complexion and brown hair. He had brown eyes that always seemed to squint,
later in life he indeed needed corrective surgery to repair his bad vision.
He as a little on the heavy side, but not fat. His brother, on the other
hand, was the biggest fifteen-year old in the ninth grade. He was also the
meanest kid in the ninth grade. It was the schools most popular rumor that
he beat up every student that gave him a bad look. Even more, he spit on the
kids after he beat them up. Tommy had even heard, that he used to pee in
some kids mouth instead of spitting, but quickly dismissed that as pure
bullshit.
The large group squared off against Tommy and his comprades. A cold
breeze blew and all the boys shivered in unison and a few teeth chattering
was heard.
“Ready to get you ass kicked?”, Steve said to Tommy, his brother
instilling in him a new confidence.
“Why is he here?”, Tommy answered, extending a frigid finger
towards Steve “the Shithead’s” larger brother.
“Just to make sure it’s a fair fight. Got a problem with
that?”, interrupted Steve’s brother, spitting after he spoke.
The snow began to fall harder onto the frozen field, and the boys
began to grow impatient with each other and the weather as the other
students began to emerge from everywhere to witness the fight that now
looked as if it would be a slaughter. A cold breeze blew the beautiful
flakes of assorted sizes about the air between the groups of boys. The crowd
had gathered and an electrical charge had filled the air, the way it always
does before a fight.
Tommy’s snow covered shoulders shrugged up and
down towards the fifteen-year old, in a weak answer to his question. Steve
began to walk forward and Tommy followed suit. The stood within arms
distance of each other, Steve overconfident because of his brother, and
Tommy feeling the confidence drain from his body, being replaced by
nervousness, also because of Steve’s brother. Tommy had heard his
grandmother talk about her stomach before she had her gall bladder removed,
and the intense pain it caused her to go to the bathroom for Number Two (as
she liked to say). Tommy thought how awful that must be, but now, he would
have gladly changed places with her at this very minute. Better
to have a painful shit, then to have someone beat the shit out of you!.
Steve pushed Tommy weakly, and Tommy immediately,
to the dismay of Steve’s older brother, pushed Steve’s brother back.
Tommy was a lot stronger, and Steve fell backwards, causing the crowd to
laugh and snicker. Steve shot a pained look at his brother, who looked away.
Steve stood and charged at Tommy. They collided hard and both fell over.
They erupted into a flurry of rights, lefts, kicks and head butts, that all
were wild. Even with the intense barrage from both boys, neither was harmed
during the exchange, because neither connected solidly.
The boys stood and squared off from each other.
Steve backed up and stood in front of his brother. He ran at Tommy, who
quickly punched Steve in the face and knocked him down. Steve fell to the
hard ground, blood flowing from his mouth in a little drip. He turned and
gave a pained look to his brother who stepped forward and started to crack
his knuckles. Tommy’s stomach began to churn hot iron towards his bowels.
Tommy heard the heavy scampering of feet behind
him, and turned to watch his two best friends, Casper and John, run away.
Tommy stood alone, prepared for the worst beating he was ever going to
receive, and watched the snowfall to the ground. With the snow falling
prettily from the sky, Tommy promised himself, that he would never count on
anyone again.
Tommy returned to reality at the moment, and took
a long look at Pierre as he sat in the passenger seat of the car. After
almost ten years, he was actually counting on someone, except this time, the
stakes were deadly serious if this friend tried to run away. Yesterday, he
wouldn’t have been concerned about how Pierre was going to act inside the
house, but yesterday seemed to be one day too late. Today was important, and
today, Pierre was acting very strangely. He hadn’t said a word after the
shower, and barely had more than a bite of the pizza.
They arrived at the house and Tommy killed the
engine. He turned to Pierre, ready to give him some more last minute
instructions, but noticed that he was sleeping. I
can’t fucking believe this guy. The one time I really need him to b e on
point and he is fuckin’ sleeping! He better not screw the pooch inside
this house, or we are both gonna get smoked! He leaned over and gave
Pierre a firm shake, waking him immediately. Pierre looked at Tommy with
eyes so glossy they could have been used for skating on.
“Are you ready?, Pierre said to Tommy, with a
look of incredible calm on his face.
“Yeah, are you?”
“You bet. I’m ready to go. Let’s do it.”
They got out of the car and walked up to the house
by way of the long front walkway. Tommy shook his head and smiled at how
prepared and alert Pierre seemed, considering he had been asleep two seconds
before. They arrived at the front door and Tommy knocked. The wind blew
harshly and Tommy shivered. Pierre seemed not to notice the biting cold,
instead looking alert and full of vigor at the darkness of night.
The front door opened and a tall and fantastically
slim Mexican man stood before them, dressed in a pair of baggy light-blue
jeans and a white wife-beater. He was obviously not armed and looked
extremely friendly. Tommy smiled when he saw the man, and the man smiled
back, his dark brown eyes lighting up at the sight of Tommy.
“Que pasa, holmes? How are you, Tommy?”, the
Mexican man said through a drunken voice.
Tommy extended a hand and smiled at the Mexican
man with the dark brown eyes.
“Good, really good. Sonny, this is my boy
Pierre”, answered Tommy as he nudged towards Pierre. Pierre shook the
man’s hand and immediately looked into his eyes. For an instant, he saw a
flash of what the man was thinking. Sonny was thinking about Pierre, naked
and kissing Sonny’s neck. Sonny was gay and Pierre knew it, even though it
was probably his darkest secret.
“Hey, it’s good to meet you”, Pierre said to
the secretly gay, Sonny.
“You too. Come in, come in. fuckin’ freezin’
outside, ain’t it? Kind of night that you snuggle up real close with your
lady for some warmth.”
Pierre laughed. He tried to hold it in, but the
image he received from Sonny didn’t match up at all with what he was
thinking about, and it was damn hilarious. Tommy looked at Pierre with a
glance of total astonishment. Pierre found that he could read Tommy’s
thoughts as well, but not as clearly. What
the fuck? Did you just laugh? Jesus Christ, don’t fuckin’ laugh at these
guys!
Pierre shrugged and walked further into the house.
Tommy looked at his friend and then around the house. He saw the occupants,
one at a time, as they sat around the living room, smoking marijuana. He saw
each man. The first, sitting on the love seat comfortably, was a very young
looking white boy, with a bald head, and eyes so narrow from smoking, that
it was impossible to tell the color. He looked too high to be any type of
threat. On the sofa across from the young white-boy, was his twin,
literally.. He appeared to be the total identical match of his brother, but
he looked somewhat less stoned.
Last, but certainly not least, was Pedro. Pedro
was the epitome of “a little
shit”. He was no taller than 5’3, and couldn’t have weighted more than
one hundred and fifty lbs. He walked into the living room from the kitchen
as if he owned the world and immediately stared down Tommy and Pierre,
before walking to the other end of the sofa and seizing the joint the men
were in the process of smoking. He clutched the “cigarette” hard enough
to break it between his thumb and forefinger, and took a long pull, his eyes
never leaving Tommy or Pierre. His light brown eyes burning a hole through
Tommy as a mouth full of crooked teeth expelled smoke in a great cloud.
Finally, Tommy thought it was time to get down to business.
“What’s the deal? Are we all set?”
Sonny looked at Tommy and then extended a long
arm, patting him on the back.
“We are right as the rain, my friend. Let me get
the stash, you grab the money.”
Tommy reached into his pocket a removed a wad of
hundreds. He began to thumb through the wad, counting softly, out loud. When
he finished, Sonny had walked back to the room, holding a backpack that was
obviously filled with something. Tommy extended the money to Sonny and took
the backpack. Sonny winked, and then called for Pedro.
“Hey, count this”, he said, holding up the wad
of money, preparing to throw it across the room.
Tommy’s eyes lit up when he heard and saw the
whole transaction. He put his hand up to block the throw, catching Sonny’s
arm in mid-toss, but in plenty of time to stop the throw.
“No. I’d prefer if you counted it, Sonny”,
he said quickly and quietly to Sonny.
Pedro, looking as mad and volatile as his little
body would allow, jumped off the couch and approached Tommy, a look of
distrust in his eyes. He walked like he was in a movie and he was the main
character, emerging from some desolate place, prepared to right whatever
wrongs the ‘bad guys” had caused to the innocent. He thought he was a
drug dealing justice keeper.
He swayed a little when he walked, the drugs and
alcohol of the day finally beginning to get the best of him. Try as hard as
he may, he could not look tough or the least bit imposing. But, he came
nonetheless.
Pedro stood in front of Tommy and Sonny and
immediately had to look up to make eye contact with either of the men.
Sonny, who was at best a shade under six feet, was still a great deal taller
than Pedro was.
“What, you don’t trust me to count the
money?”
Tommy shook his head in annoyance and said, “No,
it’s fine. Go ahead.”
Pedro snatched the money from Sonny’s hand, and
said, “Damn right it’s okay”.
He walked back to the couch, counting the money as
he walked. Tommy opened the bag and peered inside at the product. Tommy
elbowed Pierre in the ribs, trying to show him the open bag, but Pierre was
staring at Pedro. He watched him all the way from the time he entered the
living room, until he grabbed the money, and continued to stare at him as he
counted the cash. A look of concern was etched on his face, and that was
troubling to Tommy. Pierre’s eyes were following Pedros every move,
studying him. Pierre turned and looked directly at Tommy and his eyes were
wide with excitement. He looked at Pedro, and then back at Tommy, then he
rolled his eyes.
“It’s good that I’m here. You were gonna die
tonight.”
Tommy didn’t say a word to Pierre regarding that
comment. Instead, he looked at Pierre for a long time, and then glanced to
Pedro, in time to see him finish counting the money and stand.
Pedro said, “It’s all here. You can go,
now.”
Tommy nodded his head, put the backpack over his
shoulders and looked at Sonny. He extended his hand to Sonny, who shook it
immediately.
Tommy nudged Pierre, who was still staring at
Pedro, and they both walked towards the door. with his back turned to Pedro,
Tommy began to feel the first bit of real nervousness. He didn’t trust
Pedro, and knew that a man of his character would take any advantage that he
obtained, especially if the other man wasn’t looking.
At the door, Tommy extended his hand and thought
about how this night went rather smoothly. No
trouble at all. But, that is when the trouble began.
Pedro said, “Wait, the money isn’t all here.
You’re short a grand.”
Tommy felt the cool door handle in his palm, and
resented the fact that he had even paused. He knew that he had given the
right amount of money, and he knew that Pedro wanted a confrontation. The
world seemed to slow down for Tommy in that instant. He remembered the fight
he had been in with Steve “the Shithead” when he was a kid, and prayed
that he could count on Pierre. He thought of Sonny and how he was a nice
guy, and was probably in the dark about what was really going on. He thought
about the twins, and how they were two stoned to know or understand much of
anything. He thought of Pedro, and how he probably had a gun readily
available, if not already in his hand. and finally, he thought of Pierre,
and how weird he had been acting. He also thought of how Pierre had been
staring at Pedro. It’s good that
I’m here. You were gonna die tonight. Was that exactly what he had
said? What did Pierre know, or think he knew?
Tommy turned around and saw that Pedro was already
walking towards him. Pierre had stepped to the side more, and Tommy had the
brief feeling that he was about to be left alone, again.
“You’re a thousand short. You tryin’ to fuck
us over, white boy?”
Tommy stared at Pedro intently, looking (or
hoping) that Pierre wasn’t going to run away. He was happy to notice,
Pierre was not only still there, he appeared to be glaring at Pedro,
possibly plotting his next move.
Sonny said, “Hey, Pedro. Count the money again,
man. Tommy ain’t like that. If the money ain’t all there, then he has
the rest. No worries.”
“No Sonny”, Tommy said, “The money isn’t
all there, anymore. It was when I gave it over, but it’s gone, now.”
Pedro got close to Tommy, peering up into his face
and said, “You callin’ me a thief?”
Tommy smiled and said, “No. I’m calling you a
piece of shit. Cause that’s what you are. Admit it, you want us to
disagree, you want me to look like I’m ripping you off. So all right,
I’ll call your bluff. I gave you the right amount of money, and you’re
not getting a penny more from me”.
Pedro stepped back and laughed to himself for a
moment. The laughter was out o place in the room. The twins had risen from
the couch and were standing behind Pedro. Sonny, more surprised and confused
than anything, was caught in limbo in between the two groups.
Sonny tried to calm matters by saying, “
Everyone keep it cool. We don’t need any static.”
Pedro interrupted and said, “Fuck that. He’s
stealing our money”.
Pierre hadn’t moved or said a word throughout
the beginning of the disturbance. As the voice grew more agitated and
louder, he seemed to stare harder at Pedro and then at the twins. Finally,
when everyone was shouting and tensions were at the breaking point, Pierre
stepped forward and stood in front of Pedro. His eyes were gleaming and
intense, seeming to burn a hole through Pedro and then the twins.
“The money is in your pocket”, he said calmly
and rather quietly.
Pedro stepped back, obviously frightened by
Pierre. He look shocked for a moment, but then the look disappeared and was
replaced by a look of burning anger. He reached around his back, into his
waistband of his jeans, and removed a gun. He pointed the gun directly at
Pierre’s head, actually pressing the barrel into his forehead. That was
when all hell broke loose.
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