“From Bloom & Bloom LLP?” Danny asked, already knowing the answer.
Mr. Bloom laughed. “So you’ve heard of us!”
Danny wanted to say, Who hasn’t? But instead he swallowed and said, “Of course.”
“One more introduction,” Mr. Bloom said, “before we dig into the specifics of why we’re visiting your fine establishment so early in the morning.” He waved his hand, motioning for the young girl to stop her frolicking and come over to introduce herself.
“It’s take your child to work day,” Mr. Bloom said, smiling ear to ear. “She wants to be a lawyer when she grows up. Just like her father.” Mr. Bloom patted the small child’s shoulders. “Go on, Vega. Introduce yourself.”
The tiny girl, no older than four or five, Danny thought, extended an impossibly small hand. Danny crouched, shook it, and smiled.
“Vega Bloom, pleased to meet you,” she said in a squeaky, sing-songy voice.
Danny suddenly felt very warm. Perhaps it was the fragility and innocence of the young girl, so starkly juxtaposed against her warrior of a father. “That’s a very pretty name you have. Danny Feist. It’s good to meet you, too.”
“Run along now, Vega,” Mr. Bloom said. “Play with your doll. Don’t touch anything. The grown-ups have to talk.”
Vega nodded, tossed her doll in the air, and ran through a row of machines before disappearing around a corner.
Danny stood up from his crouch and put his hands in his pockets.
“Now Mr. Feist, as you’re probably aware, my services have been contracted by the Vidtronix Games Corporation. Mr. Varghese, being an agent of Vidtronix, has been filling me in on some—well, let’s call them disagreements—you’ve had with a contract your former business partner entered into. Todd, was it?”
Danny nodded.
“And, sadly, I’ve been informed that Todd has passed away just recently.”
Again, Danny nodded.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Feist. Allow me to preface what I’m about to say with that. I’m so sorry, and I have nothing but the deepest condolences and sympathy for you.”
Mr. Bloom’s voice was warm. Hypnotic. Danny wanted to hate the guy, but he caught himself sliding over every buttery word that left his mouth.
“The issue here, and correct me if I’m wrong, is this: you believe that an agreement that Todd entered into is invalidated upon his passing. Unfortunately, this is not true. The agreement was between Vidtronix and Planet X, not between Vidtronix and Todd. It is an agreement between businesses, not people. Furthermore, Mr. Varghese has alluded that he has informed you of this fact already, which frankly, makes my time standing here a bit of a waste.”
Danny shrugged. He didn’t know where to look.
Mr. Bloom continued. “Can you please tell me, for what reason did you place an out-of-order sign upon Phantasos? Our inspection showed that the machine is functioning perfectly.”
“I don’t want anyone in my arcade playing it.”
“Why not? Phantasos is a video game, this is a video game arcade.” Mr. Bloom held his hands up in disbelief. “It seems simple enough to me.”
“It’s trouble, and I don’t want my customers playing it.”
Mr. Bloom let out a deep sigh. He bent over, picked up a briefcase, and pulled out a thick stack of stapled papers. He flipped through them, then pointed to a page in the middle of the stack.
“Right here,” Mr. Bloom said, “are five reasons we could charge you out the rear right now. If we wanted to. Interfering with the machine, preventing use of the machine, and the damage to the paint on the machine—from the tape residue.”
“Are you kidding me? What damage?”
“Let me finish, Mr. Feist. If we wanted to. There is cosmetic damage outside the realm of normal wear and tear. We have proof that you denied access to the machine. All of this amounts to fees in the thousands. Frankly…” Mr. Bloom scanned the room, then looked back at Danny. “You couldn’t afford it. Let’s be real, yeah? So I’ve proposed a more than fair compromise. You have twenty-three days remaining in the term of this contract. Obviously you have no interest in renewing the contract past that point, and honestly, neither does Vidtronix. So in twenty-three days we’ll have deliverymen here, at daybreak. They’ll remove the machine, and that’ll be the end of it. So long as you promise to cut the shenanigans. No more unplugging it, no more out-of-order signs. No fines or charges will accrue. Sound like a deal?”
Danny started to shake his head no, but Aaron suddenly chimed in for the first time all morning. “It sounds like a fair deal, Dan. You should take it.”
Danny gave Aaron a confused look.
“Do you two need to speak for a moment?” Mr. Bloom asked.
Danny shook his head, said: “No.” He trusted Aaron and whatever scheme he had concocted. Aaron was a slippery sort, talented at weaseling out of sticky situations. “It’s a deal,” Danny said.
“Excellent,” Mr. Bloom said, and he nodded. He clapped his hands, said, “Come, come, Vega,” and the little girl emerged from behind the Pac-Man machine. The three gathered around the entrance, and Danny held the door open for them as they left.
Mr. Bloom smiled at his daughter, and then at Danny. “She really loves your arcade.” He excused himself, took Vega by the hand on his right side, and walked towards the street with Mr. Varghese on his left side.
When the three were finally far enough away Danny said, “Thanks for all the help. You stood around like a statue, and then the moment I needed your input, you immediately caved.”
Aaron smiled. “It doesn’t matter, Dan.”
“Like hell it doesn’t!”
“Agree to his terms, don’t agree to them. It doesn’t matter; I was just trying to get them out quick and make it easier for you.”
“What on earth are you concocting now, Aaron?”
Aaron smiled a big, devilish smile. “I’ve got a plan. A great plan. You’re gonna love it.”
Thirty
Syrupy, butter-glazed plates littered the Emerson’s living room coffee table. Half-filled glasses of orange juice and Hawaiian Punch were scattered all around. Lauren had made a breakfast fit for royalty, Alley thought.
On the living room floor Benji and Alley sat side by side, the bleeps and blips of their Nintendo game resonating from the speaker on the Emerson’s 19’’ television. Lauren curled up on the sofa with a copy of Tiger Beat, ignoring the video game’s annoying electronic sounds.
Benji remembered how much Lauren used to like to play with them. Now when it came to video games, she seemed entirely uninterested. It made him somewhat sad, the realization that maybe they were starting to grow up and grow apart. In the last couple of years, when Alley’s health took some disastrous plummets, Lauren was forced to mature very fast. Benji couldn’t blame her for outgrowing video games, but he could still be unhappy about it.
Lauren said, “I should take care of these dishes.”
In unison Benji and Alley said, “Uh-huh,” neither bothering to take their eyes off of the screen.
“Don’t everyone offer to help at once,” Lauren said, but she wasn’t really angry about it. In fact, when she’d later look back on it, that moment was perfect—and she wished that it could have lasted forever. Alley out of his room, laughing with Benji, the two lost in the escapism of their virtual world. Everyone had a belly full of warm breakfast that Lauren had prepared absolutely perfectly—not burnt, not doughy and undercooked. The gentle breeze that was drifting in through screened windows, the summer day not yet miserably hot. It was perfect. In that moment, everything was perfect.
Benji paused the game, ruffled Alley’s hair, then said, “I should really help her out.”
“All right,” Alley said.
Benji stood up, started to collect the plates and cups scattered throughout the room. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and he vanished into the kitchen behind Lauren, carrying a stack of dirty dishes.
Lauren would wash a dish, han
d it to Benji, he would dry it, and by the time he’d set it in the dish rack, Lauren would have a freshly cleaned plate or glass ready for him to wipe down.
“We make an all right team,” Benji said.
Lauren smiled. “Sure.”
“You don’t sound so convinced.”
“I’m not usually teammates with homicidal maniacs.”
“Is that what this is all about?”
Lauren sighed. “Your stunt on the lawn the other night almost got you kicked out of our house. Permanently.”
“I was doing it for—”
“For who, Benji? For Alley? Because Rodney always teased him so cruelly? For me? For the time he called me flat chested? For who? Please, tell me.”
Benji rolled his eyes.
“I think you were doing it for you. I think you were sick of Rodney Frye’s bullshit, and you snapped. And I get it, Ben. Part of me can’t blame you. But it was no good for Alley. It upset him. It was no good for our house. My dad is enough of a walking panic attack as it is. All I’m saying is I’ve seen you use better judgment.”
“I didn’t know you were so cheesed off about it.”
“Well, I am.”
“I’m sorry.”
A long, awkward lull in the conversation.
“Like I said, part of me can’t blame you. The last few days have just been…so rough.”
Benji said, “I know,” but was interrupted by the roaring tires of a car out front.
“Speak of the devil,” Lauren said.
Benji washed his hands. “I have to go talk to him.”
“Uh, no you don’t.”
Benji frowned. “Really. I do. I promised my dad I’d pay him back for his stupid Walkman, so maybe he won’t be such a son of a bitch anymore.”
Lauren turned the sink faucet to off. “Fine. But I’m coming with you this time.”
In the living room, Alley had jumped up at the sound of Rodney’s growling car. He hurried over to the front window and looked out, saw Rodney spinning his tires again, and noticed Lauren standing in the middle of the road. It didn’t make sense for her to be standing there—she had just gone to the kitchen—but there she was, still as a statue on double yellow lines. Maybe she had gone out the back door of the kitchen, and around the house? It didn’t make sense. But she was there.
Alley ran out the front door to grab his sister, and pull her back inside.
Lauren and Benji were walking into the living room when they noticed the floor where Alley was sitting was empty and that the front door was open. They saw Alley, barefoot, still in his pajamas, go hurdling into the street, and Lauren cried out—she screamed—for him to stop and come back.
And the rest happened in a single, horrifying moment. The entire scene played out in slow motion, framed by the front door, the same way it would replay in Lauren and Benji’s minds for forever.
The brakes on Rodney’s Challenger had already popped before Alley went running into the road, and the car was barreling forward up Shady Reach. Witnesses would later argue that Rodney tried to steer away from Alley—that’s how Lauren remembered seeing it—but for Benji, Rodney’s car from hell was a steady arrow, perfectly aimed.
Rodney slammed on the brakes just before collision. Alley hit the front of the car with a soft thud, flew a few inches into the air, and landed on the massive hood of the vehicle, a ragdoll.
Rodney shut off the car and stepped out. A growing crowd of neighbors stepped outside to see what all of the commotion was.
Lauren commanded Benji to phone 911. He dashed to the kitchen phone while Lauren sprinted outside.
In an instant Lauren appeared beside the Challenger. Rodney was pacing in circles, his car door still open.
Lauren scooped Alley into her arms, ignoring the scarlet smear growing on the hood of the Challenger.
Alley said, “You’re all right.”
She was weeping, stroking his forehead. “Of course I’m all right. You’re going to be all right too, Alley.”
Alley closed his eyes. And smiled.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur. When the ambulance arrived on Shady Reach, Lauren and Benji were absolutely forbidden from riding along. When Lauren was informed of this fact, it took two police officers to pry her away from the rear doors of the ambulance.
The car ride in the Emerson’s minivan was quiet, dreamlike. Even though they passed familiar scenery, from where they sat in the back seat Benji and Lauren felt like they were extras in a film. It didn’t feel like real life.
There was the sitting and the waiting and the more sitting and the more waiting at the Grand Ridge Memorial Hospital. There was Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, quietly holding hands, Mrs. Emerson’s head rested on her husband’s shoulder, sobbing; there was Lauren curled up in a fetal position on a chair a few seats from Benji; there was Mr. and Mrs. Bauer finally showing up within an hour of the accident.
Benji could later recall exactly where he sat when he heard the news. The fourth seat from the wall facing the reception desk, a soda machine in the corner, when a surgeon somberly walked in and simply shook his head. The room erupted from silence into chaos, and Benji’s world went black. He collapsed onto the cold tiles of the waiting room floor and passed out.
***
The days between Alley’s death and his funeral passed by in flickers. Uneventful, numb. Not worth remembering. It seemed to rain and storm everyday. At least, that’s how Benji would remember it.
Alley’s passing initiated a town wide outpour of support and sympathy. Candle light vigils were held. A benefit to raise money for Alley’s family was hosted at Planet X upon the insistence of the owner, Danny Feist.
Town Hall meetings were assembled. The Emerson family weren’t the only people in Grand Ridge who wanted answers as to why a fifteen-year-old boy, twice held back academically, and most importantly, unlicensed, was allowed behind the wheel of a car.
Law enforcement intervention into the matter was short lived, however. Rodney spent the afternoon of the accident detained, until his mother and stepfather showed up at the police station. With them they had brought Mr. Dominic Bloom, a well-known attorney from Portland, who by chance was in the area for the day on a business matter. Mr. Bloom said all of ten or twelve words to the officers interviewing Rodney, and Rodney was released.
Benji spent most days confined to his room. Funny that, in the week before, being locked away there was a punishment. Now, it was the only place he wanted to be. He hadn’t seen Lauren since the funeral. Her and her parents were an absolute wreck, and an appropriate time to visit never presented itself.
He wondered how Lauren was doing, but knew the answer to that was surely: terribly. The day before Alley’s funeral, Benji’s parents brought over a cake—a cake! The absurd lengths people go to, to comfort the grieving—but their visit at the Emerson household was short and curt (from what Benji was told).
Over the seven year span that the Emersons and the Bauers were neighbors, Benji couldn’t remember a time where he went more than a week or so without seeing Alley or Lauren. There was the obvious exception of either family going on vacation or travelling out of town, sure. But Benji had practically grown up with Lauren and Alley; he considered Alley as much of a brother as Lauren did. So why—with both families grieving so awfully, when they should be together more than ever—was there suddenly an invisible divide between the two?
The first time Benji noticed the rift between the families, he was in his bedroom, lights off, staring vacantly across the street at Alley’s room. He half expected to see the blinking of a flashlight, to be able to pick up his walkie and speak to Alley like nothing happened. Sitting quietly in the dark, thinking of the fracture between the Emersons and Bauers, was when Benji first thought it: They blame me for what happened to Alley.
If Benji hadn’t broken Rodney’s Walkman, hadn’t thrown insults back every time Rodney bullied him, hadn’t nearly strangled him to death on the Emerson’s front lawn…maybe things would have turned
out differently. Rodney wouldn’t have become such a monster, peacocking his feathers around the neighborhood. The entire thing could have been prevented.
Benji flipped open the wallet on his nightstand, pulled out the twenty-dollar bill that he never had a chance to give to Rodney. He stared at it for a moment, then crumpled it up and tossed it onto the nightstand in a ball.
Knock, knock.
Benji let out a long breath then said, “Come in.”
Mr. Bauer entered the room slowly then carefully closed the door behind him. His eyes couldn’t help but land on the crumpled twenty. He walked over to the nightstand, picked the bill up, unfolded it, and slipped it into his pocket.
“I guess you won’t need to be paying me back for that.”
Benji looked in the other direction, at his bedroom window.
“I’m not good at these things, son. But you haven’t left your room all day. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”
“I’m fine.”
“We ordered Chinese. We saved some for you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“There’s some leftover rice, and an eggroll, too—”
“I said I’m not hungry.”
Mr. Bauer rubbed his forehead. “Benji, there’s another reason I came up here.”
“What?”
“I wanted you to hear it from me, first. And I want you to know I’m angry about it, too. We’re all sore about it.”
“What?”
“The police department…well. They’re not going to file any charges against Rodney.”
Benji sprung up in his bed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mr. Bauer raised his eyebrows, raised both hands palms up.
“When did you find out?”
“I just talked to Alley’s dad. He called a little while ago.”
Benji was panting. No, hyperventilating. “He doesn’t even have a license! He doesn’t have a license and he murdered someone!”
Phantasos Page 15
