“Huh?” I say.
“How fast do you think you can get into your suit?”
“Pretty fast, why?”
“Do it. Tony and Vince are already in the car. He’s vulnerable, but we need to act fast.”
Vince.
“Do you need me? I have school tomorrow, and…”
“Dude,” says Luke. “Do you really think Dad will be okay with you sitting this out? He’s the guy responsible. We need to make him pay. Key word: we.”
He’s right.
Dad would never let me sit this out.
I close my door and lightly slap my face a few times to try to totally wake up.
Come on, dude, get back here.
As quickly as I can, I get dressed in my suit. I haven’t done my tie up yet, but I figure I can do that in the car. I push my feet into my dress shoes. Last, I retrieve my mask. I look at it for a second, then I shove it in my pocket and step outside.
Luke is still out in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
“Have you got your mask?”
I nod and show him.
He stares at me for a second, and I think he’s going to say something. But then he just turns, and we go through the house. Dad is waiting for us. He’s leaning against the kitchen island.
“Make him pay,” he says. “I would, if I was strong enough.”
“We will,” says Luke.
I just nod.
Then we go out the front door to a burner car that’s waiting for us in our driveway.
Inside, classical music is playing. Tony is in the driver’s seat, and Vince is beside him.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” asks Tony.
I nod and put my seat belt on.
Tony starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.
* * *
I feel queasy for the entire drive.
This is so wrong.
Someone is going to die tonight, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
They tried to kill my dad. I should want this. I should need this, like everyone else in the car needs it.
I don’t, though.
I stare out the window. It’s pitch-black outside, and the road is empty.
I’m too scared to even cry. Mostly I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I hate this.
I hate it so much.
All I want is to be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have to do stuff like this.
We end up driving for about half an hour. I only just manage to keep myself from freaking out and telling Luke that I want to leave.
Tony parks in front of a single-story, slate-gray house.
There’s a flower garden out the front. It’s nice.
Vince hands each of us a pair of black earmuffs. Military-grade.
“Masks on,” he says. He sounds just like Dad.
I pull mine on.
It feels tight and scratchy against my face. Then, copying Vince, I put my earmuffs on, and the world falls into fuzzy silence. Luke is wearing a mask now, and with his new, bulky frame, and dressed in a black suit, he looks like a true criminal, just like Vince and Tony.
Tony glances at me, and then at Luke.
We both nod.
We open the car doors at the same time.
I get out of the car on the side that isn’t facing the house and duck down so I’m shielded. Just in case they’re expecting us.
Vince and Tony open the trunk of the car.
There are four black guns. One for each of us.
Vince grabs one. Then Tony does, followed by Luke.
I grab the last of the guns. It’s cold and heavy in my hands. We walk out to the middle of the road and stand in a line.
I can’t do this. I can’t be this person. I can’t shoot at someone.
Vince raises his gun. Luke and Tony do the same thing.
I do as well.
And then Luke pulls the trigger.
The gunfire is so loud. Deafening, even. The glass front window of the house shatters as bullets shred the house. Bits of plaster explode off the walls. The peppering of bullets is relentless.
I join in, aiming low. I know how to shoot; Dad made me take lessons when I was younger. I started with a handgun and then moved up until I learned how to shoot one of these. I hated it even then, I guess because I knew I wouldn’t be aiming at paper targets forever.
I aim at the garden out the front. I hope our shots will all blend together so nobody will notice what I’m doing.
There’s a gunshot, higher pitched than the others, and then I see a spark on the ground to my left.
They returned fire.
I crouch and run back to the car. There are more sparks on the ground.
My heart pounds so hard. Luke, Tony, and Vince join me behind the car.
Bullets speak against the front of the car. Luke is staring at the ground. I think he’s concentrating. Counting, maybe.
There’s a lull. Luke stands up, and aims his gun over the roof of the car.
He fires. I hear a single shout.
I know I’m never going to get that sound out of my head. For the rest of my life, it’ll be etched in.
The night stills.
I think he hit him. Luke has finally done it.
He’s killed someone.
“It’s done,” says Luke. “Let’s go.”
We all climb into the car, and I catch a glimpse of the house. It’s totally shredded. Through the shattered windows, I can see a body on the ground. He’s barefoot. We might’ve woken him.
I look down.
The once pretty flower garden has now been totally eviscerated. I was a part of this. A man is dead, and I was a part of it.
That’s undeniable.
I stare out the window again.
Tony plants his foot on the gas, and we speed away, into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jason is leaning against the pink wall of the Sunshine Diner.
It was his idea for our first date.
It’s the same chain as the one we went to on the night we met, but it’s not the same location. That one is too close to the bar where my family hangs out, which meant I wouldn’t be able to relax. If it’s even possible to relax on my first-ever date. Or at all, given everything.
I can’t stop thinking about Ryan. And about the unknown man Luke killed a few nights ago.
Yet we keep pretending we’re just ordinary guys, not involved in the underworld at all. I know we both want that so badly. But still. How long can we keep pretending?
Jason has his earbuds in. He’s nodding his head along to whatever he’s listening to. He’s so damn cute. Even with everything going on, I can’t help but notice that. He’s wearing a casual green button-down, skinny jeans, and sneakers.
I love that he’s wearing a button-down. It nails home that this is a date.
The lot is dimly lit, with most of the light coming from the neon sign on the front of the diner. I weirdly love the mix of neon and nighttime. Something about it is kind of cinematic.
Jason notices me and raises a hand.
Everything feels so surreal.
I’m on a date. Not only with a boy, but with Jason. The sweet, gay gamer, who gets me in a way nobody ever has. A freaking star baseball player, who is smart and funny and so damn hot.
But he’s Jason Donovan.
How can I keep ignoring that part of him?
But I needed to see him. Even though he’s a Donovan, he’s the one person who gets it. Nobody else I know understands how I feel about this world. Everyone else expects me to be fine with the fact that Luke killed someone a few nights ago. I’m supposed to be happy about it, even.
Not Jason, though.
I feel like he gets it. Gets me.
It’s hypnotic.
I climb out of the car.
“You’re early,” I say as I close my car door.
I’m also early, as it’s ten to seven, when we planned on meeting at seven. It’s only just
dark out.
“What can I say,” he says, shrugging. “I was excited.”
I get that.
“Me too.”
He walks over and hugs me, which sends a buzz straight to my head. We step away from each other, and through my daze I realize he’s had a haircut since I last saw him. The sides are buzzed to his scalp, and the top is perfectly sculpted, swept over to the side and pressed down with product.
It’s very militaristic.
It makes me think of him as a soldier. That’s what he is, I guess.
“What?” he asks.
“You got a haircut.”
He chuckles, and touches it. “Yeah. Do you like it?”
“It looks so good, dude.”
“Aw, shucks. You’re too kind.”
Inside is similar to the other Sunshine Diner. Complete with the palm tree painting on the wall.
There’s an old jukebox at the far right. It’s playing some old-ass song.
We both sit down at a booth near the back.
“I’ve got to confess something,” he says.
Oh God.
“What?”
He raises a shaking hand. “I’m so nervous. So if I say something weird, let me off the hook, ’kay?”
I laugh. “What are you nervous about?”
“It’s a date, you know? And I want it to be good.”
“Oh, right. I’m nervous about that, too, by the way. So don’t stress.”
I glance around. The place is almost empty. Our company is just the fry cook and the server, plus two customers. One is a balding man who is slouched over a newspaper, drinking a coffee, and the other is a blond girl. She has a half-drunk vanilla milkshake in front of her, and her cheeks are wet with tears. I guess she’s been stood up, given how nice her clothes and makeup are.
She catches me looking and gives me a pretty killer death stare.
Rightfully so, I was totally being a snoop.
I have a reason to be, though.
I just want to make sure nobody at the diner knows me. Through the window beside us, I can see the main road, and beyond that, the city skyline. Palm trees line the road, their fronds swaying in the breeze.
“I like this place,” he says. “It’s cooler than the other one.”
“Right? I was thinking the same thing.”
The server refills the guy at the bar’s coffee, and the cook slaps a burger down onto the grill. It starts sizzling.
So here we are.
On a date.
Earlier today I read a few guides online to find out good questions to ask.
“So,” I say. “I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you pick?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes and smiles. “Did you study for this?”
The way his eyes have lit up tells me that I can tell him the truth.
“Er, yeah. How’d you know?”
“That’s adorable. I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I think I read that same guide. Third one down if you google ‘good first date questions,’ right? My next question for you is ‘What band or musician do you never get tired of?’ which is from that article.”
I laugh. “Well, apparently first dates are about finding common ground, so I’m going to mark this as a win.”
“For sure.”
“But just answer my question, I actually want to know.”
“All right,” he says. “Hmm. I think it’d be fun to live in London. I’ve never been, but I feel like it’d be really cool.”
“I can totally see you in London!” I sigh wistfully. “Just think of the coats.”
“Dude, yes! The coats are a huge part of the reason I want to go there. I’d get a really preppy one and basically live in it. Plus, I’ve always wanted to do all the Harry Potter stuff you can do over there. But anyway, I’m super curious now. Same question, back at you.”
“LA, hands down. But I want to be there for more than a year. I want to live there. I don’t know if I ever will, but I want to. I’ve never told anyone that, but yeah, it’s gotta be LA.”
“Because you like movies, right?”
I nod. “There might be more to it, though. I feel like there’s something really special about it as a city. I’ve wanted to move there since the first time I saw Mulholland Drive. I’m not sure if that’s weird.”
“No, that’s awesome. See, now I know something new about you. Thank you, internet.”
“Ha, yeah.”
“But, dude…”
“Yeah?”
“LA is about as far away from here as you can go without leaving the country. Should I read anything into that?”
I shrug. I guess I can answer.
“Maybe, I dunno. Like I said, it’s just a pipe dream, it’s never going to happen. I’m going to be here forever, with my family.”
“Do you want to talk more about that?”
“Dude, no.”
“What?”
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about my family.”
“This is a date, though, yeah? How come it’s off-limits?”
I chew my lip.
“Oh,” he says, his face falling. “You don’t fully trust me, do you?”
I try to decide how to answer. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Always.”
“Okay. It’s like … I really like you. And I always have so much fun hanging out with you. But there’s always this part of me that thinks the scheme might still be in place. So if I talk to you about my family…”
“I’ll tell it to my family.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s going to make dating pretty hard if I can’t even ask you about real stuff.”
“Yeah. I guess it will. I just don’t feel comfortable.”
He stares at the table. I think I might’ve hurt his feelings.
Which I get. I’m basically telling him I don’t trust him. Which I don’t, at least not completely. But still. I do really care about him. And maybe I’m just being a coward. He hurt me once, by being a part of the scheme in the first place. He came clean, though. How long do I need to be distrustful of him?
A middle-aged waitress in a white shirt under red suspenders appears by our table. There are huge dark circles under her eyes, like she’s been working nonstop for hours. She lifts her tablet and stares at us blankly.
“You ready?” she asks.
“Yeah, um, I’m going to go for a double cheeseburger with bacon, and a chocolate shake,” says Jason. “I’m bulking. And a plate of waffle fries for both of us. Thanks.”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I say. “I’m not bulking; it just sounds good.”
“Great.”
She takes our menus, then walks off to the register. Jason rests his hands on the table.
“So, my turn,” he says. “Here’s my question: Which musician do you never get sick of? Like who’s your favorite?”
I guess we’re just going to ignore what I said before. That suits me really well.
“The Killers. I like Sam’s Town best.”
“Oh, right, you told me that. Sorry.”
“Oh, no worries. Anyway, um, do you like them?”
“To be honest, I only really know ‘Mr. Brightside,’ and that one about being human or a dancer or something. What do you like about them so much?”
“I dunno. I love them, they just click with me, they have ever since I first listened to them. I think maybe it’s because I have this weird love of small-town Americana, and Sam’s Town kind of sounds like that.”
“Oh, nice.”
Silence falls. I shift in my seat.
“Have you decided what your favorite band is yet?” I ask.
“Maybe? I’ve been thinking about it, and I really like Marshmello. I saw him at a festival Bri dragged me to, and that was fun, and I do work out to him. I listen to him the most, so he’s probably my number one right now.”
I open the notes app on my phone.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Writing a note about him, so I don’t forget. I only know his big songs.”
“Nice. I can message you his best songs, if you want. And you can do the same for me with the Killers.”
“Yes, please!”
“Cool.” He runs his fingers along the edge of his menu.
The silence gets awkward.
Is this going badly? It feels a little like it is. I get the impression he’s still pretty put out that I don’t trust him. It makes talking about music and things seem silly and pointless.
I never thought I’d think that.
We chat for a while, keeping it light, and soon, the server returns and places two delicious-looking cheeseburgers, along with a plate of waffle fries, down in front of us. I lift my burger and take a bite. It’s so good.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
“Okay,” says Jason. “What’s going on?”
I lower my burger. “What do you mean?”
“You seem like you’re in your head, even more than normal. Are you not happy this is a date?”
“What? No, not at all. I mean, I’m very happy this is a date. Are you happy this is a date?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just not what I thought it’d be.”
I wipe my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t trust me; I didn’t realize that. I’ll be honest, that hurts.”
I could lie. But it’s Jason. He’s the one guy I’m supposed to be totally honest with.
“I get that. And I’m really sorry. I just really don’t want to be stupid. My whole family looks down on me. They think I’m stupid and weak. I really don’t want to prove them right by giving up my secrets to a Donovan.”
“Is that all I am now?”
I glance around, and see that nobody is within earshot.
We have privacy.
We can talk.
“No,” I say. “Of course not.”
“I just … I want to get to know you, you know? Like, who you really are.”
He stares at me for a second.
“Is that okay?” he asks.
“I dunno.”
“Oh.”
He won’t look me in the eyes.
“I like you, Jason. And I like this. Our friendship means so much to me. But I don’t feel comfortable talking about my family to you. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you; I really mean that.”
The Friend Scheme Page 19
