My Name Is River Blue

by Noah James Adams

  ***

  I arrived in Harper Springs early and decided to drive past Tolley House where I saw two boys I didn't know playing catch in the yard. It occurred to me that the city recreation baseball league would start soon, and the boys were probably getting their arms in shape for tryouts.

  As I came upon the old part of Harper Park, I decided that I had time for a visit. When I parked my car and entered the playground, I saw no signs indicating that the place would soon change into something radically different that would ruin it for the neighborhood kids. I walked past groups of laughing children on swings and monkey bars past the old diamond where there were boys playing baseball and dreaming of becoming sports heroes.

  For a few minutes, I sat on the same old bleacher where Papa first spoke to me when I was a thirteen-year-old kid enjoying my first day in the park. I remembered the day when I bathed in glorious sunshine, fresh air, and the delicious smell of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass. After confinement in Stockwell for two years, I was unbelievably happy that day. I wondered if it were possible to be any happier than a kid who had the freedom to make his own magic out of a summer's day. I wished I could be that boy again, just for a little while.

  I caught movement to my right and that's when I saw the kid on the opposite end of the bleachers. With an old football tucked under his arm, the young boy with shaggy brown hair wore a frown and slumped forward on his seat as if someone were sitting on his shoulders. He stared at some boys playing touch football not far from where the baseball kids were playing their game.

  I looked at my watch. I had time. I walked slowly to the boy and remembered when Papa took those same steps towards me.

  "Hey." I startled the kid and saw his thin body tense. "I didn't mean to scare you. I used to sit here and daydream when I was younger. Sometimes I didn't even notice who was around me. My name is...RB. That's what my friends call me. What's yours?"

  The boy, who looked to be about eleven years old, hesitated and then answered. "I'm Ray."

  What were the chances? "That's a cool name. I had a good friend named Ray. How old are you?"

  "Twelve. I'm small for my age." Ray nodded at the boys playing football. "They never pick me to play cause I'm small, and I'm not very good either."

  "I think you look fine. Besides one day, you'll grow like crazy almost overnight, and then you'll be as big as the other boys are. As far as not playing well, you need someone to play with you, so you can get better."

  "I don't have anyone." Ray stared at the ground and almost whispered, "I'm a foster kid. I don't have any friends."

  Was this really happening to me? "So am I. At least I used to be. Where do you live?"

  "I'm living with the Wilson family right now. The house is just up the street a block."

  "Ray, I don't have much time, but would you like the throw the ball around some?"

  "You mean with you?" I could hear the cautious excitement in his voice.

  "Sure. If you want."

  "Yes, sir. I sure do. Thanks." Ray eagerly led me to a corner of the field where we would have room to throw.

  I spent less than an hour showing Ray the right way to throw and catch, but the boy appreciated every minute of it. It doesn't take much to make a kid smile. Sometimes you just have to "throw the ball around." When I had to leave, I hooked him up with some help.

  "You know who Tyler Long is?" I asked.

  "Yes, sir. He plays for the varsity Hawks."

  "You give him a call at Deer Lake Farm and tell him that his big brother wants him to work with you. He'll teach you and be your friend, but you have to promise me that you'll wait until tomorrow to call. If you don't wait, the deal is off. Okay?"

  "Awesome. Thanks."

  Since I paid for most things with cash instead of cards, I had enough money on me that before I left, I gave Ray $100 and told him to do what he wanted with it. Knowing how seldom a foster kid has any money at all, I understood what my gesture meant to Ray. I watched his eyes grow wide with surprise, followed by his ear-to-ear grin. When we said our goodbyes, he threw both of his arms around me and that's when I realized how much I missed a good hug.

  When I was almost to my car, I turned and looked back at him. Ray was watching me from exactly where I left him. We both grinned and waved. I drove away knowing that I would probably never see little Ray or Harper Park again.

  It was almost time for dinner.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It was Tuesday evening, and when I parked my car in front of Big Bill's Barbeque, the light was failing fast. Before I stepped out of the car, I checked once more to make sure I had what I needed. I surveyed the parking lot, which was almost empty of customer cars. I knew that employees and private party guests parked behind the building. I took a deep breath and without showing a limp, I strolled inside the restaurant. The breeze was chilly enough that I looked normal wearing a light jacket.

  I only saw four customers in the restaurant and plenty of empty tables. During times of light business, customers seated themselves, so I chose to sit at a small table with an unobstructed view of the door that led to the private dining room.

  I thought that the server, a clean-cut young guy, was probably an Ackers State student. His red hair and fair skin reminded me of Sean, but with a friendly smile, he introduced himself as Chad. Chad scribbled down my order of a large platter of barbequed wings and a draft beer, and then performed one of his duties that I could tell made him uncomfortable. He asked for my ID, and I handed him my latest out of state driver's license that I had acquired especially for that trip. According to the license, I had been twenty-one for a week, but in truth, I would not be twenty-one until December 19. He examined my ID while taking glances at my face. He wanted so badly to ask me to remove my sunglasses but he didn't. Instead, I saw his face react when he gave my name more thought.

  "Thank you, Mr. Summers." Then cautiously, he said, "You have the same last name as the owner of the restaurant."

  It was the perfect opening. "Well, actually...Chad, can you please keep this quiet for a while? I'm his nephew, and I haven't seen him lately. I cut my spring break vacation at the beach a bit short, so I could come here on my way home and surprise him."

  "You must take after your mother's side. You look different from Mr. Summers and the family members I've seen." Chad turned his head side to side trying to see under my shades. It was so obvious that it was comical.

  "You're right. I look more like Mom and half of her ancestors came from Brazil, but Uncle Bill doesn't hold it against me." Chad laughed when he saw me smile first.

  "I wish I was darker. I never get a tan, I just burn."

  "So, Chad, you think you could help me surprise Uncle Bill?"

  Chad grinned, leaned down, and whispered. "Sure thing, Mr. Summers. Just let me know what you need. Does your cousin know about your surprise?"

  "My cousin? Which one?"

  "Max. He called me with the number in their party and mentioned that he was coming with his uncle. He's on spring break too."

  It was hard to keep my composure. I hadn't given a thought to Max being there. "No, Max doesn't know. No one here is expecting me."

  "Well, I won't say a word." Chad whispered as if he might enjoy being a spy.

  "Thanks, Chad, and you can call me Gabe. Is Uncle Bill having his regular Tuesday night meeting in the back?"

  "Right. They all get here by eight, and we close the door to regular customers."

  "Good, I hope all his friends come. How does that work exactly? How many employees are here tonight?"

  "Just me and the cook. It's always dead this time on Tuesday. We'll close up out here at eight, and then I'll take orders for the boss's private party and serve them by nine. I take one last order of drinks to them around ten and then the cook and I leave."

  "That's perfect, Chad. If you want to help, it would be awesome for you to let me serve their last order of drinks. I can't wait to see his face when he recognizes me."

  Chad laughe
d, but quietly as if to make sure the other four customers in the dining area couldn't hear him. "That should be some surprise."

  "I guarantee you that I'm one of the last people he expects to see tonight."

  After Chad brought my order, I took my time. I slowly nursed one glass of beer and nibbled on the wings until I had chewed off every bit of meat on each one. It was a perfect way to stay busy until Chad signaled me that it was time to serve the gentlemen their last call. Chad set their drinks on a rolling dining cart so that my inexperienced hands wouldn't spill them. I think he wanted to stay and watch, but I didn't offer to include him.

  Chad and the cook left. I backed through the only door to the private room and pulled the cart in behind me. As I pretended to position the cart in preparation for serving the drinks, I kept my head bowed, but I peeked up and scanned the room. The walls were decorated with a few pictures of Big Bill, posed with guests at his restaurant, and there was one tall showcase, filled with awards and trophies, representing the man's accomplishments throughout the years.

  The dining room was spacious, and although there were only thirteen men there that night, the table in the center of the room would have easily seated a few more. I recognized the mayor and some local businessmen who were also city or county council members. A man I didn't know was using a computer projector to show pictures of the apartment complex and shopping center that Big Bill wanted to build. All the men were looking away from me towards the presentation on the back wall.

  Big Bill and Max sat tightly together at the other end of the table from me. It appeared that Max had pulled his chair close to Big Bill's seat so that he could follow his uncle's notes on the presentation. It temporarily shook me to know how careful I would have to be.

  I rolled the cart beside the table and stopped midways, deciding that they could pass their own drinks around if they wanted them, and I figured that they would want them badly very soon. I returned to the door where I stood blocking the only way out of the room. It was time to get the new agenda under way.

  "Gentleman, may I have your attention." Both of my hands were down by my sides. The right one held a Luger 9mm semi-automatic pistol. Only one or two of the men glanced my way. I loudly cleared my voice and that's when Big Bill noticed me, followed by Max.

  Bill Summers looked at me as if I were an unwelcome rat in the kitchen storeroom. "Who are you and where's Chad?"

  "I'm new, and I let Chad off for the night. The cook too. We're the only ones left. Oh, and don't worry, the restaurant is locked up, so no one will bother us."

  Upon hearing more of my voice, Max's eyes widened with recognition and his face grew pale. Big Bill just looked confused and pissed off. The other men were still studying the chart on the wall, except for one of them who saw what I held in my hand. When he dropped his cocktail glass on the table, the others looked his way and saw me.

  "He's got a gun!" Mr. Spastic screamed like a girl. The other men were obviously surprised and concerned, but there were no other extreme reactions.

  "River? How? I mean what are you doing here?" Max sounded as if he were talking to a ghost and suddenly, I saw the change in Big Bill's expression when he recognized me.

  I gave my orders. "Everyone, stay in your seat. If you get up, I will shoot you. Place your cell phones in the middle of the table, and then stretch both arms out with your hands palm up where I can see them. Do it now. I have an extra clip, so there's enough for all of you."

  Big Bill was pissed and raised off his seat to stand. He reached for his cell phone as he threatened me. "Your bastard ass is going to jail where you belong."

  I had spent many hours target shooting with Tom, and I was as accurate with my gun as I had been passing a football.

  I fired a shot that missed Big Bill's head by only inches and slammed into the image of the apartment building projected on the wall behind him. He dropped his phone, and his ass hit the chair before the echo died. Everyone flinched, some slid lower in their seats, and Mr. Spastic tried to hide his fat ass under the table. I had their attention.

  "That was your last warning shot. I want everyone's cell phone in the middle of the table. Then place your hands palm up like I told you. You have five seconds before I begin shooting the ones who can't listen."

  They all rapidly complied, including Bill Summers. Some of them were nervous enough that their faces popped sweat. I felt sorry for Max, who looked the most frightened of anyone there. He kept closing his eyes tightly for a few seconds and then opening them as if he were trying to wish me away. I hated that I was scaring Max, and I knew my next move would make it worse for him.

  As I began to raise the Luger, Max closed his eyes. Big Bill never blinked as I leveled the gun at his nose. "You took the lives of people I loved, and you ruined mine. I want to know why. I want to know what was so important. And then I want an apology. If I don't get what I want, you're going to die tonight."

  While I gave my terms, I stared straight at Big Bill, and he defiantly glared back. I had never seen such hate and fury directed at me, and I had no doubt that he wanted to add me to the list of people who died for challenging him.

  A glance at Max revealed that his eyes were tightly closed again. Sweat poured off my friend's face and dark stains spread from the armpits of his blue dress shirt. From my angle, I could see most of his body, including his bouncing knees. It wasn't hard to understand his fear. He thought I had killed Carlee, and at that moment, I was threatening his uncle with a gun. I regretted that Max and I were not the close friends we once were.

  There was absolute quiet in the room. Big Bill's intense gaze had not left me. Max's eyes remained closed and his lips were drawn tight as if he were bracing for me to fire my weapon. While I kept my focus on Big Bill and Max, I remained alert to any movement from the other men. I made one more attempt at forcing a response and a possible slip of the tongue from an angry Bill Summers.

  "You have about ten seconds to answer me. If you don't, I can kill you knowing that I gave you a chance to be a real man and do the right thing."

  The other men sat perfectly still while they observed the drama between Big Bill and me. For those long seconds, neither of us blinked. My heart rate and breathing were eerily normal, and I wondered how that could be. Was it because the drama I created was so surreal? How would I feel when I shot Big Bill? Would that feel real to me? Would my vitals change? Before I came back to Harper Springs, I had decided that I didn't have much of a life to lose, and I was prepared to pay the penalty for ending Bill Summers.

  Time was up. I knew all along that there was only the slightest chance that he would talk too much and slip up as he did when he told Carlee about the truck hitting Ant's car. I wanted him to offer irrefutable proof of at least one of his crimes, something that he couldn't take back so that his statement would have validity in court rather than appearing to be only a forced false admission. I was silly to think I could pressure a man like him into making a stupid mistake that would convict him in court. I briefly wondered if I had devised a weak plan on purpose so that I could justify killing him.

  "Have it your way, asshole." As the words left my lips, I took proper aim. Before I could squeeze the trigger and splatter Big Bill's brains like barbecued meat on the wall behind him, the confession came rushing forth like floodwater through a broken dam.

  "Don't shoot. I'm sorry. Ant, Carlee, and Papa. I never wanted to hurt them. I didn't have a choice. Please, I'm sorry."

  Big Bill's mouth was wide open, but he had not said a word, and I was no longer his focus. He and every other man at the table stared at the frightened, sobbing figure of Max Summers. I was confused and then shocked. As I understood his words, my anger grew.

  Max's eyes were still squeezed tight. He thought I had been speaking to him. Pointing the gun at him. He thought that I knew what he had done, but until he admitted it, I would have never believed that Max was capable of hurting those people and blaming me for Carlee's death. In a perfect world, it would not h
ave been possible for such deceitful scum to decide the fates of Ant, Carlee, and Papa. I have never recovered from the feeling of disgust and betrayal that sickened me in the minutes after Max's confession.

  Max's face, a contorted mask of shame and fear, was covered with tears and snot, and I could not feel sorry for him, not even for a second. It only made me angrier that the worthless piece of shit had the nerve to whine and beg like a child wanting a second chance to be a good boy. Why in hell would he expect consideration from me that he never gave the people I loved? I had to know what made him turn on the same people who loved and trusted him. How could he end their lives and act as if he had done nothing wrong?

  It wasn't easy to remain calm when I wanted to hurt Max, but I needed him to give as many details as possible, and I wouldn't get them as long as he was afraid that I might shoot him. I thought that the more I could get him to say, the better chance there was of him admitting to something that could be used as evidence against him in court, even if he recanted his confession later. I sounded much like Detective Walls trying to work a confession out of me when I was eleven years old. I sickened myself as I used a similar, soothing voice to encourage Max. What was it Detective Walls said about admitting my mistakes?

  "Max, calm down. Everyone makes mistakes, and I'm sure you had reasons for what you did. As long as you tell me the truth about your mistakes, we can put it all behind us. I can't forgive you if you don't answer my questions honestly. Now, tell me. Why did you run Ant and me off the road?"

  At first, Max was hard to understand, but suddenly, his blubbering ceased and he spoke so clearly that it struck me as odd that he could change his demeanor so quickly. As I listened to him, I began to understand that he felt justified in all that he did even though his rationalizations would never make sense to anyone but him.