by Riley Moreno
“WHERE IS THAT BOY!” he roared before taking his seat; the sigh of relief almost audible in the great, silent hall.
*****
Molly Keegan could see him staring at her from twenty paces away. The nightclub had the loud, damp, rank, and lurid atmosphere of urban night life, and grey wisps of cigarette smoke further clouded her vision in the already dark, kaleidoscopic atmosphere of the club.
Rock music pounded her ears, and assaulted her liquor soaked brain, and the people milling about seemed more like shadows than real entities. He, however, seemed real enough, leaning on a far wall with a bottle in hand, a confident smile upon his face, as unmoving as the eyes that had settled upon her. She sat at the bar, on a stool, and tried her best to ignore him.
Molly was not sure of herself enough to get her phone out to look at the time, but the internal clock in her head placed the time at a little after two in the morning, give or take a century her tipsy brain joked. This was definitely not her scene, and not for the first time that evening, she thought of chickening out and making a dash for her home, which to her might as well have been a million miles away for all it mattered. She had no means of transport, and could very well not call for her driver to pick her up. That would nullify the bet.
“Stupid bet” she murmured under her breath as she took a swig from the bottle she had on the bar in front of her.
“What bet?”
Molly started at the voice behind her, but regained her composure in the same breath.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Molloy snapped as she turned, irritated more at herself than at any other thing, for losing her cool so easily. She was not even sure how he had heard her over the din in the club. She had barely opened her lips, “I’m sorry, I did not mean to scream.”
“It’s the only way to talk in here,” the stranger who had been staring at her answered, “You don’t seem from around here. Excuse me for saying.”
Molly laughed at his remark, “Does anybody seem at home in here? People come from all over.”
“Yeah but they all seem to be having fun, whereas you…” he started then faltered, “You’re you.”
Molly laughed some more, she took a swig from her bottle, emptying it. She called for her tab. To hell with the bet, she was going home.
“You’re leaving?”
“Ain’t that a bitch?” she teased him as she got off her stool.
“A what?” he enquired, seemingly mystified by the expression, “Let me take you and your bitch home.” He offered, quickly stepping in line as she headed for the door.
Molly turned to look at him in the darkness. He was dark-skinned and barely visible in the dancing lights of the nightclub. Up close he looked just as mysterious, and confident as he was from twenty paces away. She guessed he was probably good looking, judging from his general outlook and shape of head “I don’t think so Romeo, you are gonna have to look for some other score tonight”
She was away before he could answer, and her steps were lively as she made her way outside, and hoping she would be able to get transportation as fast as possible. There was a look of danger and cruelty about him which could not be belied by his civil manners and kind offers.
Her shoes clapped rhythmically on the damp pavement outside as she made way for the nearest intersection. She shivered slightly at the cold, her breath coming out in misty puffs that she swerved past as she moved forward in haste, passing under successive light and dark portions of the pavement as she passed lampposts and alleyways.
“C’mon, out with it, now!” A voice spat harshly from just behind her ear, sending foul-smelling wisps of mist around her head. Her heart jumped to her throat, as she felt the point of a knife against the pit of her back. Her breath, staggering forth in misty gasps, felt as cold across her throat as the chills that raced down her spine. She was being mugged. Of all the darn luck!
The knife seemed to go in another inch, “Phones, money, all of it! Now, I haven’t got all day.”
Molly screamed, offering her purse at the same time, “Here take it! Just don’t hurt me please.”
“Shut up bitch!” the as of now unseen assailant hissed, striking her across the head from behind so that she fell helplessly to the floor, twisting her ankle slightly. She stifled the accompanying scream.
“Again with that word,” a familiar voice intoned from a nearby alley, startling the would-be mugger, and the would-be mugged, “I still cannot see any dog.”
“Hey stay away, ok? Are you trying to move in on my catch?” the mugger barked harshly.
Molly was grateful to see the stranger from the club, ignoring the knife that was swinging his way. There was something oddly solid about his build up and stance that made him look even more dangerous that the other stranger who wielded a weapon.
“And you, why would you want to give him anything?” he asked, the amusement in his voice not lost on Molly.
“Oh I don’t know what came over me; it was probably the impressive gleam of his knife in the moonlight.” Molly shot back petulantly, still on the damp floor and wincing from the pain in her ankle.
“Hey, just to remind you: I did offer you a ride.”
“Hey, hey, hey I am in charge here. I got the knife.” The mugger had almost melded into the background during the brief exchange, but now he was about to re-establish his presence over the meet. “Now you, off you go. You do not want any trouble I am sure.”
Molly thought the knife looked even more menacing, coated with the dangerous edge of the assailant’s voice. The other stranger ignored him however and picked up the falling bag, and made to move for Molly.
That was when the mugger, whom Molly was all but certain was a long way towards drunk, jumped at the other stranger. Molly screamed, trying to get as far away as possible. The assault lasted all of two seconds. The stranger from the club, moved to the left, catching the mugger’s attacking arm with his right hand, and pulled it low across his body. He rammed his elbow twice into the mugger’s face, sending him to the floor in a drunken heap.
Molly’s scream died a natural death, overwhelmed by the drama before her. She reached for the outstretched arm of the stranger, the strength of his grip feeling oddly appropriate given what she had just witnessed.
“Is he dead?” she asked as she cleaned herself up with some tissue from her bag.
“I am not sure, but should that matter to you? Come, I’ll take you home.”
“Uh, yes!” she replied, stepping into stride with him, “I don’t even know why I am following you, from all indications you are probably more dangerous than him.”
“I am Davron by the way.”
“What sort of name is that? Davron. Call me Molly. Molly Keegan”
“’Pleasure to meet you, Molly Keegan.”
Partly because he seemed even wilder than she had felt all evening and also because his good looks exceeded her expectations, she slept with him that night. Far from the raunchy affair expected, she felt surprisingly safe in his arms. Afterwards, he had offered to take her home to her doorstep, but she had declined, citing personal reasons, which she was grateful, he did not press to know. She wanted to spend a few days at his place instead, but he said he had come from far. This was just as well because she was pretty sure she could name all the families in that city who had people who could afford Ferraris; they were all friends with her family, but she did not tell him that. They just drove around, from city to city, making love, and causing trouble along the way. Four days later they reluctantly parked in front of the huge gate that led up to the huge Romanesque building she called home. He seemed unfazed by it all, and for that she was immensely grateful. The last thing she wanted was for his behavior towards her to change because of the realization that her father was one of the richest men in the country. If he knew, he pretended not to, or maybe he was used to such luxury she thought as she kissed him goodbye. They made no promises, but she hoped she would see him again soon.
“What bet were
you talking about a few days ago?” he asked as she shuffled out of the Ferrari
“Oh I made a bet with my best friend that I could go on a night out on my own, without a chaperone, and make it back alive. Turns out I was wrong.” She said laughing, a naughty gleam in her eyes, “But I am glad I did though.”
Chapter 2
“What happened yesterday?!” Molly asked over her cup of coffee
Josh chewed on his toast, pretending not to hear, and continued sulking into his cup of orange juice.
“Hey do not bring that attitude into the house, you hear me?” Molly scolded as menacingly as she could, which was not menacingly at all.
“Yes dad-no wait, he is not around is he? Sorry Mom, I confused you with someone.” The boy retorted petulantly.
“Oh come on Josh, we have been over this before, haven’t we?”
“I am fifteen, Mom!” Josh shot back through the toast in his mouth. Molly could see he was being ill mannered on purpose, “the tale of my dad being a great, war hero who died in the field of battle does not work for kids older than ten. Now the next kid who mouths off about your having gone off on a one week hiatus with a stranger is gonna get it from me good; I don’t care how big or bad he is, but I want you to know that they are talking Mom, and it would make things a lot easier for me if I could go to school armed with a lot more than a bedtime story!”
Molly’s face flushed red, even as she abandoned her coffee and made her way round the table to his side. His knuckles showed white as she tried to extricate his hands from where they gripped the table. He would not cry, she had not seen him cry since he had learned the art of talking and asking for whatever he wanted. However, she knew he was hurt, and desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but she felt that would only make things worse. Or she was too ashamed to reveal the whole sordid affair to her son.
“Oh Joshua Keegan, you are trying to grow up too fast.” She said, groping in her mind for something that would pacify him, “You handle being fifteen, and leave the rest for now. As for those kids who keep taunting you, I think I’ll have a word with the school-“
“So I’m a snitch now?!” He asked horrified, “Jeez Mom!”
“Aww come now be nice, I am trying here, so be nice.” Molly defended herself blushing even further. How could she have forgotten that all important teenage rule? “Come on, finish up your breakfast; it’s almost time for the driver to pick you up for school. Is that your ninth piece of toast?”
It was his tenth, but he did not answer. He stuck the last one into his lunch box, and hurried out of the expansive dining room, through the adjoining sitting room, and out the door to the awaiting limousine.
Molly watched his retreating back with some relief. That conversation had been getting dicey, and the ‘you are about to be late’ card was the only one she had had left. The boy was going to have to learn the truth someday, she knew but how to break it to him bothered her. He was like every other boy in that he idolized his father-a man, he, nor his mother for that matter, knew anything about. She ached at the prospect of having to tell him her father was anything but noble having run off without so much as a backward glance.
She sipped her coffee, and made her way to the bedroom to prepare for her day, taking the cup with her.
Josh stood out on the side lines of the mini soccer pitch in his school. He hated Fridays. Fridays were sport days. Fridays were the days he was reminded adequately that he was not the most popular kid in school.
“Hey Keegan, you can’t stand on the side lines forever,” The school coach, William Turner, called from his left.
The air blew warm over the green turf, but it was still morning, and he shielded his eyes from the rising sun as he turned towards his coach, “No I’m okay here coach.”
“That is not an option, now get in and complete the team. We need five players for each squad. This is five-a-side football.”
Josh groaned irritably, “Do I have to? They won’t pick me.”
Coach Turner blew his whistle and signaled for everyone to gather at the center. There were twenty boys in total, and they separated themselves into four squads. As could be expected, friends had banded together into squads, and Josh found himself in the squad made up entirely of misfits-he included.
“Alright listen up you misfits. The rules today are simple. We got one pitch; we got ninety minutes before the period is over. The first two teams are allotted fifteen minutes; one goal conceded is enough to get you eliminated before that time runs out. If neither side scores then we have a penalty shootout to see who makes way. Got it?”
The chorus answer hid the abject lack of enthusiasm that pervaded Josh’s team. The group drew lots, and Josh was grateful his team was the third, designated C team. The remaining five boys drifted into their respective teams, and over to the side lines to watch A and B teams go against each other.
Both teams were made up of mainly sport buffs, all of whom were in their element on any sport field. Several skills were on display as both teams tried to score within the given time frame. Josh had never witnessed five-a-side soccer up close before. It was seldom played at the school, and he usually kept out of the way during sports not paying attention to proceedings on the pitch, no matter the sport, but now that he watched this game, he begrudgingly admitted that he was enjoying it. He enjoyed the skills and the movement. It filled him with joy being part of a team even though it was a team made of people nobody wanted to side with. It also filled him with dread, what if he messed up and embarrassed himself before everybody? He knew next to nothing about soccer. He suspected the same about the motley crew gathered around him on the side lines.
Josh cheered with the others at the goal that finally came in the dying minutes of the encounter. Team A had snatched a hard fought victory and Josh, palms sweaty, gulped as he realized that Team C was up next.
Josh quickly opted for goal, because he felt that it was the position that was most out of the way, and given the small size of five-a-side goals, he thought goalkeeping would be well within his reach. Coach Tucker blew his whistle to start the encounter. As should have been expected, Team c was left standing, and ball watching while Team A ran circles around them. Josh heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he saw one of the opponents shove the ball through the legs of his team mates, sending him to the floor. The audience on the side lines went up in raptures at the move which is known in footballing language as a nutmeg.
Josh was now totally exposed, a very skillful player was in his area and his misfit team mates were joining to watch the spectacle. He followed his instincts, and charged out of the goal, hoping to fall on the legs of the opposing player. To his credit, it was a good idea, and he went about it in the right manner, going low immediately as he came out hoping to close the player down. He went in hoping for the best, hoping he did not make a fool of himself. The opposing player, a big boy, already playing with the school team had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks, rolled the ball in with the top of his foot and lobbed it in a high arch over the advancing keeper.
It was a masterful move; the crowd went up in raptures as Josh strained his neck as he looked helplessly up at the ball travelling an arc across the bright sky.
No way, he thought fiercely. He bounded up off the floor in a back flip towards the still floating ball. He was not used to goalkeeping gloves and fumbled the ball while he was upside down in the air! He did enough however, and deflected the ball to bounce upon the top post and over the goal.
The boy who had kicked the ball stood scratching his head at what he had just witnessed while the others went into raptures. Josh who had somehow managed to land on his four limbs was not sure if he had done well or not.
The match quickly resumed. Great players inspire their teammates, and Josh’s save had done just that. His teammates were galvanized, and gave their all. They actually managed to get a shot off at the opposing goal, but ultimately Team A came knocking again, and again, and again. Time after time Josh made spect
acular save after spectacular save. There was no getting past him that warm, windy morning. He hashed a good number of saves but he would in the end always come up with an acrobatic stunt that defied the normal and save his team.
Penalty shootouts ensued, and Team C could not shoot straight to save their lives, but eventually won because nothing could get past their goalkeeper. Team A limped off in a daze, not able to believe what had just happened. The next four rounds all went through penalties, Josh was on fire!
“What on earth was that out there Keegan?! I have never seen goalkeeping of the caliber even at the World Cup! That was amazing!” Coach Keegan spoke above the din that was heading to the wash rooms, “Boy you skip better than a frog on steroids!”
The others concurred this. It had been a freak experience, and nothing on earth could erase the huge grin on Josh’s face, “I don’t know coach, late development maybe.” He answered trying to be modest.
“Yeah whatever it was, I want to see it today after school-at team practice. You get to put that talent to good use today.”
“You mean I am on the team?!”
“I mean you get to try out”
“One good game and he gets to join us on the team?!For all we know this could really be beginner’s luck.” One of the bigger boys who had been on Team A, piped from behind.
“Or maybe you guys need to learn to shoot better” Josh spat over his shoulder, “I am coming whether you like it or not!”
“Yeah I bet I bet your family knows a lot about shooting and com-“
Josh did not let him finish, he swung his fist blindly in an arc, aiming in the general direction behind him. He was blinded by rage, he felt, rather than saw, his fist collide once. The was a rush of air around him, as well as surprised gasps, the red heat in his head was gone as quickly as it had come, his hands were shivering fists as he opened his eyes, to find Coach Tucker on the floor five meters away from where he had been standing previously. A further distance away, lay the boy he had been aiming for. Both lay unconscious on the soft green turf, under the warm morning sunshine.
