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by - 2:20 PM


00:00
11:30 said Jake’s watch. He shifted and leaning forward, glanced up down the street again. Still no sign of Cliff.
“Pik U up @ 11” Cliff has texted him last night. Jake sighed and standing, stretched. He’d been waiting on this concrete doorstep for almost an hour now. In all the time Jake had known Cliff, the guy had never been late. In fact, he was almost always early – sometimes up to an hour so – which is why Jake had staked out here at 10:30 instead of 11:00.
Well, and because the heebie-jeebies wouldn’t leave him alone otherwise. Ever since he was little it had been his dream to become a foot-ball star. So lots of other guys had the same dream? Not the way Jake did. He wasn’t just a dreamer, he was a doer. Doing had turned him into a 6-foot, 2-inch specimen with enough knowledge of the game to baffle the best coach on the field. But brains and brawn hadn’t proved enough.
Jake unconsciously gnawed on his lip as he remembered last season’s try-outs. He had flunked – badly, but he hadn’t been alone. As he sat in the stands, wondering why such a loser would even try, a dude sat down next to him.
“I seen you out there,” said the dude. Jake shrugged, but didn’t look up. The dude continued, “How d’you think you did?”
“Lousy,” Jake mumbled. The dude nodded and was quiet. At last,
“Ya know bro, you only think you did bad ‘cause that’s what they told you to think.”
“And maybe they’re right!” Jake exclaimed, growing irritated. Who did this dude think he was?
“Yeah, yeah bro,” the dude said, nodding, “But maybe they’re wrong.”
Jake slouched, dropping his head into his hands, “How would you know?”
“Well,” the dude drawled, “I just might happen to know a guy who knows a guy who may or may not have told me to go lookin’ for the real deal.”
Looking up, Jake met the dude’s eyes for the first time, “You mean . . . like a talent scout?”
The dude shrugged one shoulder, as if to say “If that’s what you call us.”
The coach’s whistle sounded from across the field, signaling a break. The dude stood and stuck out his hand.
“Name’s Cliff,” he said.
Standing, Jake took the hand, “Jake, Jake Burstein.”
“Well, Mr. Burstein,” Cliff said, “I look forward to talkin’ more.”
And they had talked more. The next day they met up again, and Cliff quizzed him on his knowledge of the game. After, he told Jake he should take an IQ test, ‘cause “I bet you’d hit some high marks,” he’d said.
For a long time, it was just Jake and Cliff, talking football, throwing passes and planning all sorts of crazy strategies. Jake went all-out when Cliff was around. He felt like he needed to prove himself – like as if Cliff were always watching and assessing. As the weeks turned to months, Cliff became Jake’s favorite person. When the school-bell rang every afternoon, it was for Cliff that Jake ran out as fast as he could.
Two weeks ago, Cliff had taken Jake aside to talk to him.
“What’s up, Cliff?” Jake asked.
Cliff’s expression was solemn, but not unhappy. In fact, Jake had never seen him look so happy since he’d known him.
“Jake,” he finally said, suddenly taking Jake by the shoulder, “I think you’re the real deal.”
Jake’s face lit up as Cliff went on: “Now, mind you, I’ve gone through a lot of guys. Plenty of them seemed like the real deal, but you,” he shook his head, “You’re somethin’ else Jake.”
Dropping his eyes, Jake shuffled uncomfortably, “Yeah, well, you’ve sure taught me a lot I didn’t know before.”
Jake could feel Cliff’s grin, “And the only reason I could teach you is ‘cause you already got the head for it.”
Letting go of Jake’s shoulder, Cliff turned away, gazing off into the distance. After a long pause, he spoke.
“Hey, Jake. Remember when I told you I know a guy who knows a guy who sent me lookin’ for you?”
Cocking his head to one side, Jake nodded, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”
“Well,” Cliff said, turning back with a grin, “Top guy wants to meet you. Ever heard the name Dewey?”
Jake’s jaw dropped, “Y-you mean like Michael Dewey? That guy?!”
“You got it, bro,” Cliff replied, “Old man Dewey - he wants to give you a try-out.”
11:45.
Strolling out onto the lawn, Jake plopped down with his back to a tree and heaved a long sigh. It had taken Cliff quite a while to ‘get an ear’ as he put it. Once, when Jake was feeling dubious, he pointed out that if Dewey really wanted to try him out, it would have been Dewey asking Cliff, not the other way around. Cliff had replied:
“Jake, you don’t know these guys on top like I do. Sure, they say they want a guy - and they do! But they also know it’s them whose got the power, and it makes them feel pretty important to have other people waitin’ for them. You just sit tight. Dewey’ll come ‘round real soon. All I need is a little more time talkin’ to him.”
And he was right. Four days later, as Cliff was dropping Jake off home after a long day of practice, he told Jake: “I gotcha an ear. Tomorrow. I’ll send the particulars tonight.”
Those words had set Jake on an 18-hour countdown. That night he received a text from Cliff telling him that he would meet Dewey at Totonio’s Diner, downtown for lunch. No physical try-outs this time, Cliff had said, Dewey wanted to test Jake’s knowledge of the game first.
Last night, Jake had to pry himself away from his books long enough to actually get some sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he was back at them – after a quick breakfast – and even took one of his notebooks with him running.
Facts, strategies, numbers, history of the game; Jake had reviewed and double-reviewed and triple-reviewed. He even managed to pester his little sister into quizzing him. He nailed every one, but even that wasn’t reassuring.
“I’ll forget something, and that’ll blow it,” he thought, glancing down at his watch.
11:50
Could time move any slower?
“C’mon, Cliff,” he muttered, pushing up from the tree. There was only one thing left to do-
Pace, pace, pace, pace, pace, pace . . . kick some grass . . . pace, pace, pace, pace, pace . . . check his watch . . . pace, pace, pace, pace . . . look for Cliff . . . pace, pace, pace, pace . . . kick some more grass . . . pace, pace, pace, pace . . .
“Ya know, walkin’ in circles works too.”
With a broad grin, Jake looked up. On the side of the road sat Cliff, one arm hanging out of his open SUV window. Jake called,
“Only if you want to get dizzy!”
“Only if you wanna get left behind!” Cliff replied, revving his engine, “Let’s go!”
Moments later they were heading for Main Street.
After a long, somber pause, Jake said with a grin, “You’re late.”
Cliff didn’t seem to catch his teasing tone. He nodded, slowly, “Yeah -- I’m sorry ‘bout that. Got a call from Dewey, and he’s long-winded. Then my mom called and . . .” he bit his lip, then turned to look Jake full in the eye, “I wish I could be there, pretty boy, but I gotta get goin’ to her place soon as I drop you off.”
It felt like a rock had crashed down into Jake’s chest, “Wha, what’s wrong?”
“Eh,” Cliff said, turning back to the road and giving a half-shrug, “She just isn’t doing so good as she used to, ya know? Older folks – they get like that.”
Jake glanced down at his watch.
12:00
“So,” he said, “I’m gonna be talking to Dewey . . .” he swallowed, “By myself.”
“Yup,” Cliff replied. Glancing over, he saw the lost expression on Jake’s face, and smiled, “C’mon, pretty boy,” he said, clapping Jake on the leg, “Dewey’s not gonna bite ya.”
Jake tried to smile, but he couldn’t banish the worry. Alone, without Cliff and talking . . . to Dewey. He almost wanted to hurl.
“Hey,” Cliff said, “Snap out of it.”
A blink and Jake looked at him, “Yeah?”
“Worrying is not gonna help anything. You just go sit down at the table and when Dewey comes he’ll start the talkin’. Keep your head straight, answer his question and don’t goof off. All he wants now is to be certain your brains are as big as I told him they are.”
All Jake could think was “How big did you tell him?” and then realized that he’d said it out loud.
Cliff chuckled, “Well, I may have understated ‘em a little bit. Better to tell him a little and do a lot than the other way ‘round. Am I right?”
“Yeah,” Jake replied, smiling a little more easily now, “You’re always right.”
And they were there.
Both doors popped open simultaneously, ejecting the occupants as if on springs. Across the street, Totonio’s Diner sat in all it’s slightly-dilapidated and completely homey glory. Taking a deep breath of the savory town air, Jake felt himself relaxing. Everything would be fine. He could handle this. In fact – it would be even better to go without Cliff and then be able to tell him later that he’d done it. To have earned the place all on his own.
“Ya know,” Jake said, glancing behind him to meet Cliff’s eyes, “I got a really good feeling about this.”
“Now that is what I’m talkin’ about,” Cliff said, “But come ‘ere real quick. Gotta give ya something.”
Strolling over, Jake watched as Cliff opened the SUV’s back door and pulled out a thin suit-case.
“Or a boxy briefcase,” Jake thought to himself. Closing the door again, Cliff handed the case to Jake with a nod.
“That’s for Dewey.”
Jake turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight, then dangling it from the thick black handle.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“A bomb,” Cliff said.
Glancing up quickly, Jake saw the nonchalant expression of Cliff’s face and laughed. Instantly, Cliff broke into a grin and laughed along.
“Naw, bro,” he said, clapping Jake on the shoulder, “They’re just some old files and papers Dewey asked me to scrounge up for him. Make sure you keep this on top of the table when you’re in Totonio’s.”
“Why?” Jake asked, cocking his head to one side.
“Why do you think?” Cliff countered.
A pause, and Jake nodded, understanding, “’Cause when Mr. Dewey comes in, it’ll be the first thing he sees associated with me. That’ll get him on my side right away.”
“See? What did I say about big brains?” Cliff said, reaching to ruffle Jake’s hair but Jake batted his hand away.
Glancing down at his watch, Cliff heaved a short sigh, “Well, bro, I gotta get going. Dewey’ll be here around twelve-fifteen-ish. Just keep your eyes peeled.”
“Sure thing, Cliff,” Jake said, walking away backwards, “And thanks a lot. I’ll see you later!”
Ducking in through the SUV door, Cliff rolled down the window.
“Good luck, pretty boy,” he said, then tipped a wink and drove away.
Jake turned and walked across the street.
12:10
Said Totonio’s shiny red clock as it’s long, yellow second’s hand ticked away into the new minute. Plopping down into the designated booth, Jake ordered a root beer and settled down to wait. After a few minutes of musing, he realized he’d forgotten two things.
One – to ask Cliff if Dewey was usually late. Two – to put the briefcase on top of the table.
Score: 1 to 0 in Bad Luck’s favor,” he muttered to himself. Swinging the case up onto the table, he leaned back with a sigh. Just keep waiting. Dewey would be there, even if that meant eventually.
Moments later, a pretty server girl returned with his drink.
Are you waiting for someone?” she asked, her soft green eyes glancing towards the door.
Uh, yeah,” he replied, taking a sip, “He should be here soon.”
If you’d like, I can bring another soda,” she offered.
Naw, I don’t know if he likes that,” Jake replied, “But thanks.”
With a nod, she walked away. Suddenly, Jake felt lonely. Lonely and bored. He glanced down at his watch.
12:16
Late,” he muttered and took another sip.
12:17
12:18
12:19
12:20
Jake sighed and thunked his empty glass onto the table-top. He wondered if people were taking forever on purpose today.
That might be part of the test, though,” he thought to himself, “Maybe he wants to see how patient I can be.”
Though that was kind of a stretch. Drumming his fingers on the table-top, Jake’s hand crept over to the brief-case. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the handle. Maybe Dewey was held up. Maybe Cliff got the time wrong. Maybe Dewey came early and left before Jake got here. Maybe Cliff didn’t tell Dewey what he looked like. Maybe-
Click.
Jake started and glanced down. One of the two latches on Cliff’s briefcase had come undone. With a grimace, Jake realized that he had probably fiddled it open. He was just about to close it, when a thought occurred to him.
Cliff won’t mind too much if I just look, will he?” he thought, fingers straying towards the still closed clasp. After all, he was a football geek, and these papers probably had some really interesting stuff in them. He glanced round. No sign of Dewey – yet. Maybe if he just took a quick peek . . .
The second latch clicked open, releasing the lid, which popped up an inch. Slowly, Jake pushed it back all the way, displaying the contents to the light. A mass of small black boxes, wires and shiny silver tape met Jake’s gaze. His eyes widened. These weren’t papers, It looked like . . .
Pushing back a bundle of wires, Jake saw movement. An orange light – no, a timer.
00:04
00:03
00:02
Hey,” said a voice, “Are you sure your friend will be here?”
Whirling, Jake saw the server girl, and out of the corner of his eye, the number change.
00:01
Get down!” he screamed.
Totonio’s Diner disappeared in a flash of white-hot light, killing everyone inside.


Author's Note: Suicide killing like and unlike this happen frequently. Most often the exploited figure - like Jake in this story - is a child.

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  1. This story STILL shocks me each time I read it! The ending is completely unexpected.

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