Clay started to speak but then stopped. A vehicle was pulling up around the apartment.
Sharky raised his head from the sofa, made a small sound.
“Place is hopping with company.” Ryan said. He stood and went to the door and moved the little louvers of the blind. Saw a red Kia.
Murphy was back.
Possibly for another round.
Chapter 28
Murphy went through a lot of trouble getting out of the car and getting the crutches out on his own. Ryan stood on the step, watching. Murphy leaned on the car before getting any closer.
He started with a simple, “Hey, man.”
Ryan said, “No need to be nervous. I told you I’d play nice.”
“Cool,” Murphy said. “Look, I heard what happened. I figured I should apologize.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ryan said.
“I mean, I shouldn’t have insulted Rosie Clare because I was mad at you. Sammy gave me hell for that.”
“The blonde girl?”
“Yeah, Sammy Tillman. Her mom’s loosely related to the Clares somehow. I don’t know. Everyone’s really upset.”
“It’s not good,” Ryan said.
“Anyway, sorry for insulting your friend like that.”
“She didn’t hear you.”
“No,” he said. “But Sammy heard me. Then I really heard about it, later.”
“She seems like a quiet girl.”
“Not when she’s mad.”
“It’s tough all around, I guess.”
“One thing after another.”
“You don’t have to stand out here in the snow.”
“We cool?” Murphy asked.
“We’re good. C’mon in. Grab a donut or something.”
***
Murphy came hobbling around the back of the Kia. Not swinging fast like when he left Enzo’s. Moving slowly and cautiously, on account of the snow. The crutches had good rubber grips on the bottom, but there was no point taking an unnecessary risk and ending up on his ass.
Clay stood up as Murphy entered. He was right up close to the wall between the kitchen and bathroom, near Sharky’s end of the big sofa.
“Don’t move,” Ryan told him.
Murphy shook his head in that apologetic manner and said, “Clay, sorry for the Facebook thing. I was only friggin’ around. I guess I’ve been bummed about my foot and handling the frustration like a jerk. It’s nothing personal, man.”
“There you go,” Ryan said to Clay. “Sounds like a sincere apology to me. Now relax.”
Clay opened his mouth.
Murphy hopped forward, adjusted his crutches, and offered his right hand.
“Sorry, man,” he said.
Clay nodded subtly and shook his hand.
“Everything’s good now,” Ryan said. “Clay, take your seat. Murphy, grab a chair. You want a donut? I’ve got plenty.”
“Cool,” Murphy said and hopped over and opened the top box. There was quite an assortment to pick from.
Ryan went over and grabbed one of the Oreo ones. He put a paper towel down on the counter for Murphy. Then he looked back at Clay and told him to come grab one.
“No thanks.”
“Just get over here.”
“Those things are deadly,” Clay said. “Kerry told me about an article she read about them.”
“I won’t tell her you had one.”
Clay went through all sorts of inner turmoil before giving in and walking over to the counter. He took one of the plain glazed donuts. Put it on a paper towel and walked sullenly back to his chair.
Ryan sat on the sofa after giving Sharky a cookie. Everyone had a snack.
“Dude,” Murphy said after settling onto a chair. “You got an AR right in the living room?”
“Good place for it,” Ryan said. “Right handy.”
“I gotta say thanks for not killing us last night. That whole thing really got out of control.”
“Speaking of that, how’s your mom’s car?”
“A few scuffs low on the driver’s side. I promised her I’d try to buff them out.”
“Tell you what,” Ryan said. “I’ll pay to get it detailed, since I had a part in scuffing it up. Fair enough?”
“That’s wicked good of you,” Murphy said.
“Your mom shouldn’t have to worry about it. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Clay took little bites of the donut. He wasn’t happy about it. He would probably manifest early signs of cancer within minutes.
“This is a sick apartment,” Murphy said. He was looking at the huge TV and the movie posters on the walls depicting some of the greats. Bronson, Stallone, Schwarzenegger. And Eastwood, the greatest of all. The father of badassery.
Ryan nodded and took a bite of donut.
“That’s where it happened?” Murphy asked, gesturing toward the door at the rear of the living room.
“That’s it.”
“I gotta ask. Did you mean to kill them?”
“It happened way too fast to think. I just meant to stop them. If I’d been purposely trying to kill them, it would’ve been way worse. We’d have to knock this building down and start over.”
Murphy shook his head and said, “I’m surprised you didn’t use the AR.”
“It happened too fast.”
“So it was all you. Bare hands.”
“Someone had to do something.”
“Shit,” Murphy said under his breath. “You’re just not the right guy to screw with.”
“That’s the truth.”
Murphy paused, then said, “You remember Mr. Norfolk?”
“Is he still at the high school?”
Clay said, “I told you he was still there a few years ago. He asked about you.”
Ryan said, “That was like five years ago. He must be in his sixties by now. I figured he was down in Florida playing golf.”
“He’s a coaching assistant at this point,” Murphy explained. “He won’t leave. He still loves being there. Kids still love the guy.”
“That’s awesome.”
Murphy said, “He wants to do at least another few years, until his wife is vested or something like that. She’s like ten years younger than him.”
“I should get going,” Clay said.
“You stand up, I’ll break your legs,” Ryan told him between bites of donut.
Clay slouched a little and resumed picking at his donut.
“Anyway,” Murphy said. “Mr. Norfolk told me about you. I was talking to him today, and I mentioned how we almost got into it, and he just looked at me like I was nuts. So I pressed him a little. He said not to get into a fight with you unless you were in a wheelchair. And he said you were a great skater. The best he’d ever seen.”
“I was decent,” Ryan said.
“He said you were the team enforcer. You had more fights and penalties than anyone, ever. You set records no one has come close to touching since. That’s just on-ice.”
Ryan nodded. He wasn’t proud, wasn’t ashamed. It was just the truth.
“Then UNH?”
“Yeah.”
“They kicked you out?”
“Yeah, second year. Too many fights. Having me around became more trouble than I was worth.”
Murphy shook his head. He was astonished. Awestruck. Like a superfan getting an audience with a pro.
He said, “I heard you were good, but I didn’t realize you were a friggin’ legend along the whole east coast.”
“It was all stupid,” Ryan told him. “I screwed up my chances.”
“You think you could’ve gone to the NHL?”
“I doubt it. Those guys are insanely good. And getting records for fights and penalties doesn’t get your name in any trophy cases. Everyone likes an enforcer. The fans cheer. But pro teams look for the whole package.”
“Still,” Murphy said. “People remember you. That’s something.”
“I found out too late that sports aren’t everything,” Ryan
said. “People get so cranked up by them, all for what? I’d see some opponent do something dirty to one of my guys, and I wanted to put him in the hospital. The game was secondary. All I could think about was going to war with my guys.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t join the military after college.”
“I almost did. My mom cried and begged me not to.” He gestured toward Clay. “So did his sister.”
Murphy said, “Guess the marriage thing didn’t work out.”
“No big deal,” Ryan said. “We get along better living in separate places.”
Murphy nudged Clay with his elbow and said, “Do you realize your brother-in-law is a legend?”
Clay nodded. Waited until Murphy had looked away before rubbing the shoulder that had been nudged a little too harshly.
Ryan said, “This is getting lame, guys. I don’t like talking about myself.”
“Sorry,” Murphy said. “It’s just, after I talked to the coach, I wanted to hear more about it, firsthand. I couldn’t believe how close I was to getting my ass seriously kicked.”
“Almost doesn’t count. You quit in the nick of time.”
Murphy nodded and said, “That’s the thing, right there. You should be coaching, Ryan. Seriously. Or at least training guys. You know exactly how to handle people. You’d get tons of respect.”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said.
“Would you be willing to train me? I mean, help me with my workouts?”
Ryan said, “What happened to your foot?”
“I got stupid in the gym. Doing box jumps. Trying to show off.”
“There’s the first lesson. Don’t show off. Nothing good ever happens. Whether it’s a game or a fight, just put your head down and work. Let the results do the talking.”
“I guess I learned that the hard way.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not too serious. The doctor says it should be fine in a few weeks. Keep the weight off it for a while and hopefully it’ll heal faster. I’m icing the hell out of it every night.”
“I don’t know if I’d be a good trainer,” Ryan told him.
“I know you would be.”
“I wouldn’t mind lifting with you. We can do upper body until your foot heals up.”
“That would be awesome.”
Ryan looked at Clay and said, “You should start lifting with us.”
“I’m not lifting weights, Matt. I can’t even do a pushup.”
“You’ll get there,” Murphy said, and jabbed Clay on the shoulder again.
“Okay, I’m tired of sitting here being depressed,” Ryan said. “Rosie wouldn’t want anyone to be miserable on her account. I know that for a fact.”
“We could light some candles,” Clay said.
“Are you serious?” Ryan asked.
Of course he was.
“You want to light candles and sing Imagine?”
“It’s a nice thought.”
“You think a sappy song and somber mood will resurrect Rosie?”
“Fine,” Clay said.
“Seriously,” Ryan said. “What helps dogs more, your sister’s thoughts or her actions?”
Clay slouched.
Murphy smirked.
Ryan said, “My appetite’s back. Let’s go get some food, boys.”
Chapter 29
Clay put up a fuss. All he wanted to do was go home. Ryan wouldn’t let him. He forced him into the GMC. Of course Clay got stuck riding in the middle, wedged between two bigger guys and a pair of crutches. But it wasn’t a long drive. He survived.
They ended up at Burger King. Whoppers and fries all around. Murphy called his friends and it turned into quite a gathering. The blonde girl, Sammy, didn’t show. Murphy said she was terrified of Matt Ryan, but not to worry, because she’d get over it in a few days, when the nightmares of being chased by the GMC began to subside.
The big guy and the smaller guy arrived together. The big one was still pretty sore from the night before. He walked in delicately, toes out, knees bent, waddling like a duck. He was drinking ginger ale because he was still a bit queasy and couldn’t eat much yet.
Ryan shook hands with him after the kid thanked him for taking it so easy on him. They agreed that everything was in the past now. Mistakes had been made, but it was time to move on.
“As soon as someone expresses regret, I stop holding a grudge,” Ryan explained. “We’re all good now.”
Clay lightened up a little after Ryan forced him to drink some Coke. The sugar and caffeine helped him sit up straighter and made him somewhat more talkative. He even ate some French fries. All the salt seemed to have a positive effect on him. He refused his Whopper, so Ryan ended up eating that in addition to his own. He didn’t push it. French fries and soda were a good start.
Then he made Clay fight Murphy.
Not really, but sort of.
Everyone but the queasy guy was getting energized from all the food. Murphy offered Clay a free shot, to square things up between them. One punch to the stomach, because he deserved it. Ryan forced Clay to do it. While Murphy stood propped against a wall, Clay stood there looking nervous and trying to back away, with Ryan pushing him forward. Finally Ryan bribed him, saying that if Clay did it, Ryan would slide down the indoor slide in the little playroom out front.
Clay gave it his all and hit Murphy in the abs just below the ribs. Murphy grimaced a little, said it was a pretty decent hit. They shook hands again and Clay got some ice in a big paper cup for his right hand.
As promised, Ryan went to the playroom and climbed the little ladder and went down the plastic slide fairly awkwardly. One of the BK girls came out from behind the counter and asked him please not to break anything. He assured her he meant no harm, and would pay for anything he damaged.
In the end it was a pleasant evening. No one got hurt, no property was damaged, and Clay thanked Ryan when he dropped him off at his mother’s house.
“I’ll need your help around the office,” Ryan said.
“I feel weird doing Rosie’s job.”
“There are worse things than feeling awkward, Clay.”
He paused, letting it sink in, and then said, “Do you really think she’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “I sure hope so.”
“We’ll hope for the best until we know for sure.”
“That’s all we can do.”
“Okay,” Clay said. “I’ll work for you, temporarily. Just filling in.”
“Good.”
“Rosie will be back.”
“I hope so,” Ryan said. “I miss her already.”
***
It was a long night for both Ryan and Sharky. They passed it on the sofa as always, but dozing and waking more often than usual. Ryan was awake more than Sharky, and when the dog was disturbed and woke, he looked at Ryan questionably. He didn’t know what a hospital was or that Rosie was unconscious in one, but he knew there was a problem with his person. He was showing genuine concern.
Fortunately there were plenty of interesting shows on TV. They didn’t distract him fully, or make him forget, but they helped keep him occupied between late-night snacks and trips outside to smoke.
Inevitably he ended up finishing the Alexander show. There was nothing really new to be gleaned, but it served as a solid reminder to reaffirm Ryan’s appreciation for the great man.
At various times through the night he kept hearing Murphy’s words.
You should be coaching.
You know exactly how to handle people.
On one hand he agreed with Murphy. On another, he differed.
He wouldn’t make a good coach, in the peppy and positive sense. And dolling out cautionary advice to kids wasn’t anything he felt like doing on a daily basis. Half of them would just sneer and ignore him and go off and make lousy choices anyway.
But he did know how to handle people. Murphy was right about that. Ryan had known that about himself for a long time, but somehow hearing from
Murphy had made it clearer.
He didn’t allow himself to ask why bad things happened, or why they happened to good people. He already knew life wasn’t a fairytale. No need to beat a dead horse. But he did dwell on the smaller question of how Rosie Clare ended up in the hospital.
He could blame himself for operating a storage business. No one could hide money at an ice cream stand or a Christmas tree farm. And he could blame himself for keeping the money. Or Rosie, for letting the guy stash the money in the first place. Or Chuck, for not calling the governor to deploy the National Guard.
But that was all bullshit.
Individuals made their own decisions. All sorts of people made all sorts of decisions on a daily basis. Everyone involved with the money and its attempted recovery had played a role.
But there was more.
This wasn’t an isolated incident. It was personal, but not isolated.
He couldn’t remember the last estimate of the cost of the supposed opioid crises to the state, financially or as far as lives lost.
But it was bad.
You know exactly how to handle people.
By 4:30 in the morning he was done trying to sleep. He got up and made a pot of coffee and took a steaming mug into the office and fired up the computer. There was a lot of information online. Newspaper articles, local police Facebook posts, TV news segments.
By 6:00 he had already read far more bad news than he wanted to. And he hadn’t even scratched the surface. Chuck was right about the scale of the problem. It was huge. Much bigger than a tiny state could handle. Far bigger than a daily passing glance at the news could possibly convey. It was like a sickness, spreading patiently and steadily. Not as dramatic as a single wildfire burning out of control. More like hundreds of smaller fires. There were many links in the chain, as the albino guy had said. Which meant a lot of people to be dealt with.
The glaring question was where to start.
Ryan’s best answer was to start small and work up, like anything in life. Get some more experience before biting off more than he could chew. Reach a certain level of understanding, then start chipping away at the problem. Battle one small fire at a time.
I Warned You_Welcome to Fall River Page 20
