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.
2 people are talking about this
This story STILL shocks me each time I read it! The ending is completely unexpected.
ReplyDelete*smiles wide* Good!
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