by Matt Moss
It serves nothing.
“I don’t know if I feel like a part of the group anymore, Larry.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club.” Without a word, he starts walking fast towards a nearby tree line.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to show you something. Come on,” he says. He leads us fifty yards under the shade of the pines, hidden from plain view. “I found this the other day on one of my walks.” He bends low and wipes away a patch of pine needles and branches. Lying nestled on the ground is a skull.
A human skull.
I kneel down to inspect it.
“Don’t pick it up!” Larry warns too late. “Damn, damn, damn…why’d you go and do that?”
“Do what? What are you flipping out about?” I ask in defense, holding the bones in my hand.
“Have you no respect for the dead? Ever heard of ghosts? Curses?”
I shake my head and turn the skull for inspection. There’s a small hole in the temple about the size of my pinky finger. The back side is blown to pieces. “Damn. This person was shot in the head.”
Larry comes to the same conclusion. “Execution,” he notes.
“Executed for what?”
Larry slaps his thighs and stands up straight. “What’s it matter? They’re dead.”
I reverently place it back to its final resting place. “You think the farmhands did this?”
Larry rubs his chin. “Maybe. Either way, I think it’s safe to say that we need to keep this between us.”
“Agreed.” If the others knew, paranoia would set in and shit would hit the fan.
We approach the barn and Larry makes it clear that I need to listen to him. “Cole. If you or Mr. Whyte need anything, and I mean anything, you let me know. Do I have your word?”
“I’ll let you know, Larry. Thank you.”
“I won’t leave the barn until Mr. Whyte comes back. That way you can find me if you need me. Well, expect to use the bathroom. But other than that, I’ll be at the barn.”
I laugh. “Alright. I know where to find you.” Shaking my head as I walk away, I feel closer to Larry than ever before. At one time—after he tried to kill me—I thought we would never speak to each other again, let alone become friends. I’m glad we did.
I walk back inside and hear music blasting throughout the house, a steady drum beat pounding. From the foyer, I can see that the lights in the living room are down low, the shades shut tight on the windows. I cautiously make my way towards the dark room. My eyes go wide at the sight of naked bodies, of the people I know, entangled and shared with one another, strewn across the room. In time with the beat, they thrust and lay with each other. Even Mr. Red’s in on it, lying on a couch, his head thrown back in ecstasy as Eve goes down on him. Donald’s pounding her from behind. Gibbs and Abram tag team Jane on the floor while she moans like a bitch in heat. Benji’s sitting in a chair, masturbating while he watches.
Jane looks to me, her mascara messy around the eyes, hair matted with sweat, lipstick smeared around her lips. “Cole, you’re just in time. Come jump in.” Her words are timed between the beats of her body being thrashed by Gibbs, but even through the filth, I still see her as beautiful. I see the potential she has and how she’s not living up to it.
But I don’t know what to say. I raise my voice in reply. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude…” I turn to leave.
Gibbs stops what he’s doing, turns and speaks to me. “Where you going? The lady here just asked you to join us. It’s rude and downright offensive to decline such an invitation,” he yells above the music.
I turn back to answer him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want any part of it.”
Anger washes over Gibbs as if he was just insulted. He pulls his pants up and marches towards me, his chest slick with sweat and defined with muscle. “You don’t want any part of…what? Of her, or of this house—this family?” His eyes are intense, his breath heavy with alcohol. I look behind him and see that the party continues. I meet his eye. “You call this a family? I call it dysfunctional at best.”
He shoves me backwards. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I shove him back and he winds up on the floor. Everyone stops what they’re doing, in shock by my action. Nice play, Gibbs. I didn’t push you that hard.
“Cole, what the fuck?” Jane yells at me.
“Dude, what’s your problem? Why do you always gotta mess up a good time?” Donald says, breaking away from Eve.
I want to say that Gibbs tripped, because I didn’t push him all that hard. He flopped like a fish. But I don’t because it doesn’t matter. They’re on the same side. And I’m not. I shake my head and march towards the door to get out of the house.
“See you around,” I hear Gibbs call to my back, threatening, promising.
Larry’s surprised to see me again so soon. “What happened?” he asks, noticing the frantic look on my face.
“I’m not staying there tonight,” I reply and point towards the house. My heart’s racing.
“My barn is your barn,” Larry says.
After I cool down, I explain to him what happened. He listens, but doesn’t say anything. “Larry, you know that skull you found with the bullet to the head?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m gonna be next.”
Fifteen
Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.
Sleep doesn’t come when your mind runs.
I toss and turn all through the night, thinking about the things to come. About destiny, fate, and the relationship they have with the universe. Of time and choices, and the shapes of things.
I think that I’m going to die today.
I go for a walk before the sun rises to clear my head. There’s got to be something I can do; some sort of plan to prevent the coming storm. But for the life of me, I can’t think of anything. If Mr. Whyte were here, perhaps he would have an idea of what to do, but he’s not. He’s gone.
The only thing I can come up with is to run away. Like I’ve always wanted to, just run and don’t stop until I’m free. This time, the farmhands probably wouldn’t care if I did, and nobody would miss me when I’m gone. But I can’t leave Mr. Whyte knowing that he shares the same fears that I do about the farmhands. I can’t leave him alone.
The sun breaks, painting the clouds and sky red. It’s magnificent and unlike any sunrise I’ve ever witnessed.
A sign of things to come.
Back at the barn, Larry’s leaned up against the outside wall, his legs crossed and stretched out on the grass. “What’s the plan?” he asks.
“I don’t have a plan, Larry. Guess I’ll just have to wing it.”
“A gun would be nice,” he notes and digs at the ground with a stick.
I have him follow me inside the barn and fetch the pistol that I stashed away. “I got a gun. Not much good without bullets, though.”
His eyes go wide. “Why didn’t you say so sooner! This is what we need for protection.”
“Larry… I just said there’s no bullets.”
“I know where the bullets are,” he says and crosses his arms. “They thought I was asleep the whole time, but I wasn’t. I heard them talking.”
I grab him by the shoulders in desperation and look deep into his eyes. “Where are they?”
“You know the three doors at the top of the steps? It’s the one on the left.”
So that’s what’s behind door number one. I kiss him on the forehead in excitement. “Larry, you’re a saint.”
He cringes away from the gesture. “Wait. The door is locked and only Whyte has the key. How are you going to get in?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. If nothing else, I’ll ask him to open it when he gets back and let him know about what’s going on. He’ll understand.” I just need to survive until then.
Larry holds a
finger up. “He might even make you sheriff. Uphold the law and such.”
“Wouldn’t that be a novel idea.”
“Sheriff Cole.”
“That’s kind of a sad picture you’re painting, Larry.”
“I like it.” He pats me on the back and we walk towards the front of the barn. Outside, we sit on a couple of sawed logs and stare at the white house in defiance. We are the outcasts, the rebels, the ones who’ve been left behind.
We’re still here, shaking the gates.
Like it or not, we are the change.
And change is coming. Like the rising of the sun and the turning of the stars, it cannot be stopped.
As the thought of a revolution rolls around in my head, Donald steps outside and shields his eyes against the light. I can practically hear him cursing the day as he steps onto the grass. Larry and I watch as he approaches. We stand up to meet him.
“Hey, guys,” he says.
“Sup,” Larry replies.
Donald looks to me. “About last night…”
“What about it?” I bite back.
He checks himself and takes a breath. “Last night was crazy. It all happened so fast…”
“Yeah. Looked like a good time,” I note, my tone thick with sarcasm.
“Cole, listen to me. Gibbs said he’s not mad. He knows that everyone was drunk…”
“I wasn’t.”
He pauses to collect himself before continuing. “He knows things got out of hand and has no hard feelings towards you. He wanted me to come out here, apologize on his behalf, and invite you to the poker game tonight. Both of you.”
I ignore the comment about Gibbs wanting to apologize. I don’t think he’s capable of feeling remorse. “Why wouldn’t he come and ask us himself?”
“Why wouldn’t he come and ask us himself?” Larry repeats what I just said. Donald and I look at him, then back to each other.
“He’s hungover something fierce, and was up all night puking his guts out. He said he’s ashamed of himself and doesn’t want to tarnish his image any further than it already has been.” Donald lets his act go and talks real—like he used to when he wasn’t putting on a show. “Look, between you and me, Gibbs is truly sorry. He fucked up and he knows it. He’s just trying to make amends and hopes that you’ll forgive him.”
“What’s poker?” Larry asks.
“A card game,” I answer Larry then immediately ask Donald a question. “Do you trust Gibbs?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.
Wrong answer. But it’s the one I suspected. I don’t trust Gibbs as far as I can throw him. “Okay. If you trust him, I trust him. Tell him that I forgive him and will be there tonight.”
Donald smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “That’s great, Cole. I’ll tell him right away. It’ll make his day to hear it!”
“Tell him I’ll be there, too,” Larry says.
We both look to Larry in amazement. Donald nods, wide-eyed. “Alright, then. The more the merrier!” Before he leaves, he offers his gratitude. “Thank you. I know this will all be put behind us and we can become a family again.”
After he’s gone, Larry speaks. “Family? Does that make us the black sheep?”
I laugh. “Indeed it does, Larry. Indeed it does. Did you mean what you said?”
“No. We’re people, not sheep. Well… some of us.”
“I’m talking about you going into the house.”
“Oh, that. Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
He gazes at the house and nods. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m glad for not going in alone. It’ll be nice knowing that you’ll have my back and I’ll have yours.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Larry states and takes his seat on the log. I join him, and we wait for the sun to go down.
Sixteen
The house is warm inside, signs of logs burning in the fireplace, the foyer smelling of smoke. Larry steps in beside me and looks around, trying his best to be brave. “It’s okay, Larry. I’m beside you the whole time.”
“Thank you.”
Inside the living room, a large hexagon-shaped table takes the center of the floor. Gibbs sits on the far side shuffling the cards, while Donald and Abram sit at each side of him. Jane greets us with a drink. “Good evening, gentlemen. Scotch, on the house,” she says with a smile, offering us a drink from the serving tray.
I give her a genuine smile. “Thanks. Here, Larry. Let’s have a drink.” He doesn’t want to, and neither do I, but both of us know that we could use one to calm our nerves right about now. We raise our glasses in hopes that it will raise our courage.
“Cheers.”
Gibbs takes notice of our presence. “Cole, welcome. And Larry is with you,” he stands and walks to greet us. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Larry replies.
I raise my glass to Gibbs. “Thanks for the drink and the invitation.”
“Thank you for coming,” he says, humbly. “You’re just in time. We’re about to start the game.” We all take our seats around the table. Mr. Red walks in to check on things, then leaves as quick as he came in. Eve and Jane are preparing snacks and drinks, chatting among themselves and having a good time.
Abram greets me as I sit at the table. “Nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
“Good to be here,” I reply.
“Thanks for coming,” Donald tells us.
Larry sits up straight and folds his hands on the table. “What’s the buy in?”
Gibbs raises an eyebrow. “The man knows his poker,” he notes and begins portioning out the chips. “Money is of no value here, as you all know, so we’ll have to wager something else. For starts, let’s just play for fun.”
“What’s the values?” I ask, holding a red chip up.
“White chips are worth a dollar. Red’s five. Blue’s ten. Green’s twenty.”
After he’s done distributing the chips, I add them up. “One thousand even.”
“A grand all around,” Gibbs notes and throws a white chip in the middle.
“What’s that for?” Abram asks.
“Ante,” Gibbs says. “Gotta pay to play.”
We all throw our buck in and Gibbs deals each of us two cards. He turns three face up in the middle and explains the rules. “First round’s practice, but I’m sure you’ll all catch on quick.” He explains the betting system, the flop, the turn card, and the river card. Betting rounds in between.
“Simple enough,” Benji says.
Gibbs smiles and looks at me while speaking. “The thing to remember about poker—it’s about playing against your opponent. Knowing their tells, their weaknesses, being able to call their bluff, or know when they’re bull-shitting or telling the truth.”
I wink at Gibbs.
“Everyone good with knowing how to play?” Gibbs asks, looking around the table. He deals the cards after everyone answers. “Good. Now it’s for real.”
“It’s Friday night, there’s no more work, and we ain’t got a damn thing else to do,” Benji says, happily wriggling in the seat as he collects his two cards.
“Nice,” Gibbs notes in reply to Benji and throws a chip on the table. “Ante up.”
I throw a chip in and peek at my two cards. With only the flop on the table, I’m already sitting on a king-high straight. It’s a hard hand to beat, and the odds are stacked high in my favor. Best to slow play this one and see how everyone else bets. I take the first hand and rake in a small pot of chips as everyone else folds around the table when I try to make them call my bet on the river card.
Not to my surprise, Donald goes all-in on the third hand—a full house—but Gibbs reveals a flush and takes the pot. “Full house beats a flush,” Donald protests.
“No, it doesn’t,” Benji states.
Donald leans on the table to answer Benji. “Oh, and you’re some poker expert?”
Benji shuffles a small stack of chips lik
e a card shark. “I just know how the game is played. It’s a common misunderstanding that a full house beats a flush, but it doesn’t. Read the rule book.”
“These are house rules, bitch,” Donald states.
Gibbs cackles. “Rules are rules, Don. That’s what I’ve been saying since you got here. But hey, don’t get a sore ass over it. You can buy back in.”
“Really? I can buy back in?” Donald asks, eager to get back in the action.
“Sure. But we need to establish what the buy in is. Something like… a personal favor, or a promise.”
“I like personal favors,” Jane says as she serves everyone a drink.
I can’t hold my tongue. “I bet.”
Larry laughs out loud and continues to do so, long enough for everyone to look at him in awkward silence.
Jane glares at me, but isn’t overly offended. “There goes your shot. I was going to do a personal favor for you later, but not now,” she says, turns her nose up and shakes her ass as she walks away.
A chorus of taunts, jabs and laughs come my way from around the table, adding to her insult. Abram seems pleased with having won the girl. He can have her.
“Damn, Cole. I’m beginning to wonder about you,” Gibbs says, still smiling and shaking his head.
“Then I’m doing something right,” I reply and take a small sip of my drink. I need to be careful and not indulge. I know I’m prone to, but I need my wits about me. Gibbs’s smile fades and his eyes stay on mine as he deals the cards. “One of those last hands, you only bet the minimum, then when Donald raised, you called every time. You knew you had the winning hand. Why didn’t you raise him?” I ask.
“Donald’s a man of impulse and action. Often times, people like that get caught up in the moment and make a mistake. I knew that I had the better cards based on the odds. But I am impressed with how he handled his cards. Almost anybody would have bet everything on that hand.”
“Thanks… I think,” Donald says and peeks at his two cards.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Red walk into the foyer. He peeks in to see what’s going on before turning around and walking back towards the direction of the kitchen. I don’t like that I can’t see what he’s doing because, at this point, I don’t trust anyone outside of Larry and Mr. Whyte.
