Crash and Burn

by Michael Hassan

  By the time the wedding rolled around, junior year was pretty much over and my grades were back to sucking again. My teachers had all conferred with Caroline Prescott, who managed to set me up with passing grades in every course as long as I could pass the finals (a challenge yet to be achieved without the benefit of a private tutor). And by then, the Club Crew boys and some of the guys from other groups had experienced our first dose of ecstasy, rolling on a Saturday night at a Kelly party, and we knew that this was a drug that could fuck with you because you felt soooooo good when you were on it and soooooo burned out the next day. But this was a drug that the girls could finally love too (as most of the girls in our town were not big into weed).

  And after continuing to hook up with Maddy for a while longer, I heard that Diana Ordoñez liked me. Being as Diana was this superhot girl from Miami and was a cheerleader and all, I decided that Diana had to be the one to break up with Maddy on my behalf. And, no shit, she had no problem telling Maddy that she was hooking up with me, which might not have worked on its own, but seeing Diana draped on my arm at the next varsity game, Maddy had to realize that I was no longer part of her world. And besides, being associated with Diana got me respect in a way that I had never gotten with Maddy.

  And baseball was going well, with our team going to the divisionals and me holding a record for the most RBIs in a season and solid fielding at third base. And did I mention how much school sucked?

  But back to the wedding. It was set for the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. Jacob got one of his superrich friends to lend him his house for the event, which was out in the Hamptons on a huge beach. This was no ordinary house, but an enormous block-long brown-shingled mansion that you had to drive up to through a gate.

  As we got out of the limo that Jacob got for us, I noticed the valet guys parking other cars. These guys were kids my age, maybe a little older, and one of them was eyeing Jamie like she was hot. And old enough. I wanted to yell at him, let him know that he was checking out a fourteen-year-old.

  Actually Jamie did look good. Me and Jamie and Lindsey were dressed in the special clothes that Felicia got for us. Me in a tux, but not my junior prom tux, no, not that tux at all, that one was not going to be good enough for my father’s wedding. Felicia had found some designer who made this Italian cut version of a tuxedo that was super South Beach. We had to go into the city for special fittings, each of us, to make sure that our wedding clothes fit perfectly, which they did. Even Lindsey looked pretty good, I have to admit.

  It was a perfect day, not a cloud in the sky.

  We stepped along the platforms that had been set up, and Jacob was there to introduce us around. But first, the photographer.

  There we were, the four of us, Jacob and his offspring, smiling as a family, as the photographer snapped away. He took another set with us standing in a row on the wooden staircase descending from the deck overlooking the beach, then another set against the background of the mansion, then another group of photos on the beach, wind blowing our hair, and there was a hairstylist to make sure that everything was in its place. And then a few pictures of me and Jacob, the two Crashinsky men, one with his arm around me, another set of him standing behind me, one hand on my shoulder.

  Only as soon as the flashes went off, I could feel my father’s hand slip away with a sudden shake, as if he was cringing that I was his son.

  And he never said a word to me, other than to suggest that I move left and get closer to Lindsey when the cameras went off. I watched him posing for pictures with Lindsey and Jamie. He had a different smile, not the fake one that he had with me, but a real pride in his daughters, mostly for Lindsey, but you could see that there was something there.

  So I had to ask myself, what the fuck did I do to make him hate me so much?

  But then there was Felicia’s hand on my shoulder and that felt warm and supportive, a totally different feeling.

  “Cresh, you lewk like a moddle.”

  This, with a kiss on the forehead, and the deepest hug. I guess that was why I bothered to go in the first place.

  And Felicia in her white dress looked like there was a spotlight on her, following her every move. This was definitely not a normal woman.

  I had to just stare. And when I stared, I noticed that I wasn’t alone. Other men, business associates of my father’s, distant relatives I hadn’t seen in years, even the caterers, all seemed to be doing the same thing, as in . . . just staring.

  Even the women, just staring.

  And she walked across the wooden platform on the beach, like a prize racehorse, with a bounce that made you anticipate the next step, made you feel that you were breathing in time with her.

  “She’s hot stuff,” said my aunt Randi over my shoulder, breaking the spell.

  It was good to see Aunt Randi; it had been a long time. She had gotten heavier and older looking. We hugged. She hugged Jamie. She introduced us to yet another one of her loser boyfriends, this one an artist who looked extremely gay to me. At least he had a full beard.

  We grabbed some minifoods from the passing trays, chicken satay in peanut sauce, lobster quiches, small slices of filet mignon and on and on. Typical of Jacob’s refined palate, the food was spectacular. I handed my used wooden skewers and napkins to Jamie. Jamie was always good for things like that.

  Another tray came by. I quickly grabbed a glass of champagne as it passed and downed it in a single gulp, placing the empty glass on another tray, or at least trying to, because as I reached my hand out, Jacob grabbed it.

  “You will not embarrass me today. Do you understand?”

  I yanked my hand back. “Leave me alone.”

  Felicia noticed the confrontation and came over to divide us, interlocking her arm around his, and heading after the photographer, pushing Jacob forward, glancing back at me.

  When they had melted into the crowd, I stepped back and happened to come across another tray of champagne glasses, so I quick-snap-grabbed another one and sucked it down. No way was I going to get through this sober, was my thinking.

  And then there were more pictures, Felicia and her family, then she joined ours, just the five of us, then a few with Aunt Randi and other family members, cousins, people who I didn’t even know were related to us.

  Then the crowd was called to take their seats around a huge altar that had been set up on the beach. Chairs in rows, aisle down the middle leading to the stage. They brought in trees on all sides to make it look like an enclosed space. Plus there were all these flowers, hundreds of them, actually thousands of them lined against the altar, twining the top, making it look all fairy tale.

  Me and Jamie and Lindsey sat together in the front row, Jamie watching the altar area with an intensity that she generally reserved for SpongeBob.

  “Those are the most flowers I’ve ever seen,” she told me. “I guess Dad is superrich.”

  She and Lindsey kept turning their necks to see who was coming down the long platform: first Jacob’s mom, our grandmother, then Aunt Randi, and then some of Felicia’s relatives who flew in from her country.

  Then some of my father’s best friends, or rather business associates, I don’t think Jacob had any regular friends.

  Then the violins started up, “Here Comes the Bride.”

  And with everybody’s eyes on her, Felicia stepped out, looking even more beautiful than she did before. The music stopped. You could hear the waves crashing against the shore and a few seagulls. Other than that, it was totally silent as she stood there.

  Single frozen moment in time.

  Camera flashes going off in rapid succession.

  Then the music started up again, and she walked between us, smiling and waving, one side, then the other, and I had to think, how was I ever going to do as good as my father? Mad money, superhot wife, big place in the city, friends with a beach mansion and a boat. He had it all.

  And I could not feel one ounce of happiness for him.

  Now, at the altar, my father was joined b
y his about-to-be wife. And two older guys, one a rabbi, the other a priest. The two of them looked like they were friends and talked to each other until the violins stopped again. Then the rabbi went first and introduced himself and made some kind of adult-type joke that all the adults laughed at. Next the priest, not as funny, all business, joining the two of them in matrimony stuff.

  My mind wandered. I started fidgeting. I was looking past the stage, to the ocean: kicking-rough waves, no one was swimming. And I remembered thinking, a few more weeks of school and then summer. I couldn’t wait. Too much pressure for me to do well and, not going to lie, I was not dealing. I couldn’t concentrate in any class, didn’t know how I was going to pass the finals. Plus I was still, even then, despite my new relationship with Diana, thinking about Roxanne a lot.

  So I didn’t notice that anything was going on in the back row until I heard his voice.

  “Where’s my money, Jack?”

  David Burnett was standing exactly in the spot where Felicia had stood minutes earlier. He was dressed in a tuxedo, like he belonged there. The entire wedding party and all the guests in their chairs turned to find the source of the voice at the same time.

  All of the wedding sounds stopped, and all you could hear besides Burn were the waves crashing against the shore and a few seagulls.

  Another single frozen moment in time.

  “All I wanted was the money that is rightfully mine,” he announced as he started walking up the aisle, taking the same path as Felicia to the altar, “and instead, you had me arrested.”

  Not knowing, of course, that, technically, I had him arrested.

  OK, now I was wondering if he had his gun. Because, here’s the thing, if he had a gun, then I was going to jump in front of him to prevent him from firing at my dad and his new wife. I felt my reflexes poised to attack, against my conscious will, and in doing so, I shocked myself at the fact that I would risk my own life to save my father.

  Maybe another kid in my position would have balked at this, I mean, given that my father was a huge dick and all, but I didn’t have it in me to walk away if he needed me. I could not stand aside; I would have my father’s back no matter what.

  I was better than that.

  My father looked around, motioned to the catering staff. He seemed unsure of himself, unsteady on his feet.

  Fuckme, I thought. I really was going to have to come to his rescue.

  I stepped into the aisle just as David crossed my path. I grabbed his arm, which was as hard as concrete.

  “Let him go, Cresh.” This from behind me, at the altar.

  “I want my money.” Burn kept advancing. I held on, grabbing him tighter, and was actually being dragged forward slightly. I was not aware until that second how powerful he was. I felt like I was trying to hold a tiger by its tail.

  Despite my absolute best efforts, he continued to move forward like a seasoned running back determined to cross into the end zone, capable of carrying a team of defenders on his shoulders if he had to. Only instead of a team of three-hundred-pound linebackers, there was me. Just me, still convincing myself that I could take him down and have him detained, maybe arrested again. Even stoked by residual anger, I was nothing compared to the solidness and single-minded determination that David Burnett had going for him.

  “It’s OK, it’s OK.” Felicia motioned to me from the altar. My father looked at her like she was out of her mind. I was not comprehending what she was trying to do, so I kept holding Burn, but he kept moving, with me attached to him, no major obstacle for him at all.

  The good news was, he didn’t seem to have a gun or anything. However, based on his raw strength, he might not even need one to do damage.

  “Please, Steefin, let him go,” Felicia commanded.

  And simultaneously, I let his arm slip from my wrist. Not that I had a real choice anyways. And once I let go, he actually slowed down, still approaching the altar, but now at a more normal pace.

  “Please, Davit, join us.” She stretched her arms out toward him. “It was our mistake not to invite you and your sister, especially since you haf had such a divicult year. . . .”

  “My money . . .” David kept moving but seemed to have lost his edge.

  Meanwhile, Jacob was looking at Felicia like maybe he was having second thoughts about the whole wedding thing. Felicia did not bother to look back at him; her mind and energy was focused solely on Burn. She led him up the stage to the altar in a way so intimate that he must not have realized that like three hundred people were watching him. He actually stepped between Jacob and his new wife, looking like a wild animal that had just been tranquilized.

  Still, I wasn’t about to trust him and stepped up to the altar at the same time, so now I too was staring down at all those people.

  Then she whispered to Burn, and I got within earshot so I could hear everything. And what she said was:

  “We were wrong. We shoot have gifin you the respect that you deserf. But you don’t understand that Jack as a leegal obleegation to honor the trust that your mother set up for you. There are vords in that trust that do not permit him to give you more than your mother allocated. I read it myself. Ve ver not in a poseetion to explain. But we shoot haf anyvay. In the meantime, Davit, dis is my special day, please do not ruin it for me.”

  And to this, Burn responded, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know.”

  So this was the second time in a few months that I watched two different women talk Burn off a ledge.

  The problem was, how many more ledges would there be before this guy was out of my life forever? I had to find a way to disconnect him from my family for good. He was dangerous. Supremely dangerous. And I was, like, the only one in the universe who completely understood that.

  She walked off to the side with him, motioning for her guests to be patient. I followed, sticking close by her.

  “Vill you stay as our guest?” Felicia asked, adding, “Ve vill vork things out together ven Jack and I return from Europe.”

  Burn seemed to shake off her magic for a second. “I can’t wait until then. I need a car now.”

  “How much?” she asked.

  “Seven grand,” he snapped.

  “Den I vill give you my personal check until den. Vill dat be helpful?”

  Tears came to Burn’s eyes at that very moment.

  “I could probably live with five thousand,” he admitted. “I mean, if you are going to write me a personal check, then that should be enough.”

  “Vill you stay?”

  “I don’t think so,” he told her. “Well, maybe just for the ceremony.”

  So now I watched as Burn took a seat at the end of the last row in the back. The wedding continued, and the whole do you take him and do you take her thing was done in a few minutes. Then Felicia made this speech about how she was lucky enough to meet someone who understood her, who got her jokes and let her believe in trust, he was a kind man, a deep man, a caring man, and being part of his family, sharing her life with me and Lindsey and Jamie made her a better person, and that she hoped that we felt the same way about her, which of course, we did.

  It was a great speech and all, but it could not have been about the very same Jacob Crashinsky who lived in my house from the time I was born until the time that Caroline Prescott kicked him out. Because nothing could make me forget that he was a total and complete prick, even though as it turns out, I learned that afternoon that I would save his life, if it came to that.

  Burn kept his distance but stayed for a while after the ceremony was over. I caught him trying to talk to Jamie, but before I had to do something about it, Lindsey interrupted him and soon he was talking to some adults, making conversation like he was there as a guest. I thought about the possibility of going over and asking how his sister was doing, but I was sure that doing anything like that would just give him the satisfaction of reminding me that it was no longer my business to even ask, and whatever happened after that would most likely ruin my father’s wedding.<
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  Then Felicia went over to him and the two of them talked. And before long, Jacob approached me. I was thinking that he was going to be all about thanking me for trying to stop Burn, but Jacob, being Jacob, had this to say: “If he does anything, it’s on you.”

  It actually made me laugh, thinking that this was the same line he delivered to me years before, at Thanksgiving dinner. And that the thing Burn did back then was the reason we were all here today. Jacob apparently had no idea, though, and took it that I was somehow laughing at him. Whatever.

  I saw no need to argue with him on his wedding day.

  I guess I was better than that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hot Water, Really, Really Hot Water

  “How could you, Steven?”

  When Christina showed up at her uncle’s place, things were not exactly the same as when she left five days earlier. I hadn’t left the house, shaved, or even showered during that time, given that I wasn’t feeling good and given that I suddenly felt the need to write, like, constantly. In fact, when she called to tell me that she was coming to get me, I convinced her not to come back, because the quiet and the isolation allowed me to focus in a distinctly new way.

  And I needed to focus, on account of wanting so badly to get through the chapters about my relationship with Roxanne so that I could move on.

  And even though we weren’t supposed to technically be there, at Christina’s uncle’s place, in the first place, as she never actually got permission, and even though it was inconvenient to come and get me later in the week, she worked it out, because I asked her to and because that’s the kind of person she was, and remains.

  So when she stepped into the house and looked around, all she said was:

  “How could you, Steven?”

  And I realized for the first time that I had created a complete mess in every room, clothes on the floor, pizza boxes on the counters. Her uncle’s now-empty vodka bottles on the couch.

  She practically pushed me into the bedroom, and right away my mind snapped into gear. I grabbed her playfully, and she said, “No way. You’ve got to clean yourself up, and we have to get out of here.”