The Deal-Chapter One

Pawn


Chapter One

Working copy 12/16/2010


The big ben alarm clock went off at exactly 9:45am. The golden bells clanged at about 119 decibels. The magnified sound came from a large cast iron pot under the bed. The metal on metal sounded like an army of angry two year olds slamming metal spoons against steel pipes instead of a six inch alarm clock purchased at the local dollar store. Without opening his eyes, he pushed the covers aside, reached under the bed and grabbed the vibrating pot. He slid it across the floor where it slammed into his dresser. A small piece of yellow paper drifted off the dresser, like a yellow leaf falling from a tall oak, and landed inside a half open drawer.

“Wesley, you up?” He heard his mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yea. Gonna shower.”

He grabbed the towel on his bedpost then took two steps to his dresser to grab a clean pair of blue boxers. As he tucked them under his arm, he glimpsed the yellow piece of paper fall to the ground. It almost landed in the trash can, but ended up resting on his converse high-tops. He ignored it and went to the shower.

The warm water soothed the pain in his arm, which hadn’t really ached until this very second. He rubbed it and stretched it out over his head just as he’d done during football training last year. He didn’t play football anymore. He couldn’t. When he got kicked out of high school last year, he was banned from all sporting events. But that was okay with him, really, he never seemed to fit with the other kids anyway. He was at the alternative school this year, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really liked it.

He put on his favorite blue and green plaid Bermuda shorts and pale blue Abercrombie t-shirt before reaching for his tennis shoes. The yellow note had stuck to the top of his right shoe. He saw some scribble on it and thought that Eve, his little sister, had written some unintelligible words on it. As it came into focus, he felt his heart race and his face heat up.

“Leave this one alone or else… You know how Eve hates the dark.” Two words ended the message. “We’re watching.”

He crumbled the paper in his hand, made a tight fist, and punched the air. “Ouch!” he belted out, forgetting about his strained shoulder. He shoved the note in his pocket before grabbing the cell phone off his night-stand. He’d forgotten to charge it last night, but luckily, he had turned it off at midnight, as was his routine, so he’d probably have enough juice to make through the day.

As he brushed his nearly shoulder length hair, combing his bangs straight down over his eyes, there was a tap on his door.

“Weeesley. Wesley?” The door slowly opened and the bright hall lights penetrated his dimly lit room. His little sister stood at the door clutching her pooh-bear and her short pig-tails cast a shadow on his floor that looked like a giant monster with enormous ears.

“Look, a monster!” Wes shouted, pointing to the floor. She giggled and threw her stuffed animal at him.

“Stop it. You don’t scare me! I’m not the one afraid of the dark!”

He grabbed her pooh-bear, then picked her up and slung her over his aching shoulder. Her soft little body seemed to form a blanket over his fear. He spun around a couple of times before tossing her on his bed.

He flipped on his overhead light; the shade, spray-painted green, made the room look like a cave. “Hey kiddo. You ready for Halloween?”

“Yea. I’m gonna be a princess.”

“Which one? Cinderella or Snow White?”

“Princess Sapphire. You knew that already. So why’d you ask? I told you that last night.”

“I was tired, and thought maybe I’d dreamed it. Princess Sapphire? I think you’ll be the only one in town.



Eve jumped up on the bed, held an imaginary sword and shouted, “Stop, or I’ll cut your head off! I am Princess Sapphire-ninja girl, destined to be king!”

“Queen!” Wesley corrected her.

“King!” She insisted.

“O.K. You can be king if I can be the prince.”

“Deal.” She said, as she punched his fist with hers.

Wes snatched her up off the bed like she was a loaf of bread and stood her up on his shoulders. The ceiling fan darted just over her head. She ducked and screamed, “Wesley, the fan!”

He eased her down into his arms, where she wrapped around him like a monkey. She laid her head on his shoulder and he felt an urge to build a shield around her. The feeling rushed through him like an electrical charge. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.” A lump formed in his throat and he clasped his hands together around her back.

“It’s okay Wes. I’m not scared. I can stop the fan with my hand. Member when you showed me that trick last summer?”

“Sure do. Some things look scary, but if we touch them, then they aren’t anymore.”

“Can I go with you today Wes?”

“To school? You wanna go to school with me?”

“Yeah! I wanna meet Brian.”

“I’ll bring him here to meet you. You can’t go to my school. Too many “bad kids.”

Sitting Eve up on his shoulders, they walked out of the bedroom, and into kitchen. His mother was standing with her eyes glued to the portable T.V installed just underneath the cabinets.

CNN was on and Anderson Cooper was giving an update on the suicide bombing in Turkey.

“Can I have this bagel?” Wesley asked, not waiting for an answer as he picked it up and began shoving it in his mouth.

“Yeah. It’s yours.” His mom answered, without taking her eyes off the T.V.

He sat Eve down at their 1950’s table in front of a full bowl of cheerios. He patted her head twice before yanking one of her pigtails.

“Stop it, Wesley!” She said, while smiling. She threw a Cheerio at him and he caught it mid-air before tossing it in his mouth.

“Thanks. Gotta go.” He reached in the fridge, grabbed a bottle of grape juice and kissed his mom on her forehead.

He ran out the front door, took two steps towards the edge of the porch before doing a front flip off the top step. He landed solid on both feet, knees bent, right next to his skate board.

“Where are you going, Wesley?” His mother hollered as she stopped the screen door with her hand, just before it swung shut in her face.

“I’m going to school early today, Mom. I have to make up some work.”

“Make up work? But you haven’t missed a day of school all year.”

“Yea, I know. But I broke some pencils so I gotta go an extra hour this week-I’m gonna clean up around the school to make up for it.”

“Some pencils? Wesley. Are you serious?”

“It was a whole box. I was pissed off at Chad. But I didn’t hit him, like last time.”

“All right then. But come straight home! No hanging out with the twins. They only get you in trouble.”

“Don’t worry Mom. I know who to stay away from.” He looked back over his shoulder at his mother, noticing her hair hadn’t been brushed today, and tripped on the cracked sidewalk. He recovered just before falling, and when he turned around to wave, he saw that she’d already gone back inside.

He jogged down the sidewalk, his shoulder length hair swinging behind him. When he got to the corner, he reached in his pocket, pulled out his beat-up flip phone to check for a text.

“Meet me on aisle 4 at the Pig. Trig.”



“Oh man! Not today!” he thought out loud. He’d planned on spending 30 minutes with Julie before her class ended. The teachers had agreed he could help her with math once a week. He didn’t wanna miss this.

He wondered what Julie would say when he didn’t show up in 10 minutes, like he promised. He decided to text her and tell her part of the truth.

“Gotta do something b4 I get 2 skol. Important. Still luv u.” He figured that would keep her from bugging him about it too much. She’d probably ask him about six questions before she finally got tired of his answer, “It was just something I had to do for my mom.” He used this excuse every time. And it wasn’t a far stretch from the truth. The job did benefit his mom. It paid cash, every time. Large amounts. He stashed exactly ninety percent at the bank next door, put a fifty in his pocket and took the rest home to his mom.

His mother thought he was helping Trevor with his landscape business. Well, he had helped Trevor mow his grandmother’s three acre yard this summer, twice, in exchange for the best salmon biscuits and sweet tea in Georgia. So when he brought home fifty, sixty or even ninety dollars after each job, his mom didn’t blink an eye. She thanked him, kissed him on the cheek, and put it in her purse, which sat in the middle of the dining room table no matter what season of the year it was. He knew she needed it for groceries, gas for the ‘92 Plymouth Colt and clothes for his four year old sister, Eve.

His bruises from the last mission had faded from blue to green, but he still had shooting pains when he took a deep breath. When he first signed up, it was for just one job. Now, he’d committed to 6 months. They’d let him leave after that. No questions asked.

“No one leaves early. No one,” echoed in his head over and over.

But now, with a threat hanging over his head, he felt like an internal explosion was about to occur. He’d break more than pencils if anyone tried to hurt is little sister. He pushed his hand deep into his pocket, trying to push the note out of his mind. But it wouldn’t go. He had no clue who the note was from. Although in the beginning, he was told that he may get threats from time to time, most of them would simply be empty attempts to keep him from doing the next job. And his job was to either ignore them, or use them for fuel to complete the next mission. He’d  used the latter approach without any trouble. Things were impersonal in this business, until this very moment. He felt like he was about to have a face off with a monster-truck. And standing behind him, holding her pooh-bear, was Eve. This was almost more than he could take.