Admission (21 page)

THE BAR AND GRILL
was named Tommy’s, and I entered to find Alec in a booth. He’d agreed to meet me here after I showered.

“I’m still here,” he said, waving up his hands as if I were the police. “What’ll you have?”

I saw the bottle of beer on the table. “It’s not even noon.”

“I had to bribe this out of them. Don’t let my efforts go to waste.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“I sure am.”

I sat in the booth across from him. The bar looked and smelled like a hangover. It was a Friday morning, and the Thursday night crowd must have been obnoxious.

“Remember Shaughnessy’s?”

I nodded.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well, what?”

“This is where it used to be.”

“What? Here?”

“They tore the building down and put this up. Sorta smells the same, if you ask me.” A grin filled his face.

“The area looks different.”

“A lot of things change with time,” he said. Alec’s gaze didn’t waver as he took a sip of beer.

“Where’d you take Claire?”

“Why this fascination with someone you don’t even know?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Yeah, I know. Mr. Father-knows-best Jelen paying you to find me. Yeah, that’s right. I knew from the beginning.”

“So why didn’t you just save everybody the time and the headache and say where you were?”

“Nah. I wanted to see where it would go.”

“Bruce is in a hospital thanks to you.”

“Don’t blame me,” Alec said.

“I don’t trust a word you’re saying.”

“Did you ever?”

“Yeah, once I did.”

Alec cursed at me. “You know that’s crazy. You didn’t trust a word I said at the end of college.”

“Disappearing didn’t really endear you to anybody, you know. It’s hard to trust somebody whose best trait is running.”

“Nobody ran.”

“Oh, you ran. You got your tail outta there when the going got rough. By the way—I’m not sure if you got the memo, but Carnie died.”

“Cute.” He gave me a venomous glare.

“No, it wasn’t cute. You want me to describe to you in all the grisly detail how I found him?”

Alec bit his lip and looked away. I’d finally gotten his attention.

“Were you around at all?” I continued. “I don’t know when you found out, but did you ever bother to call? I mean—I don’t care, it was a long time ago. But at the time, it hurt. One of the few people who was in my shoes was missing. Because that’s what you do best—go missing.”

He shook his head. “Carnie was not my fault.”

“‘Bruce isn’t my fault. Carnie wasn’t my fault. Claire isn’t my fault.’ Do you see a pattern here? You’ve got a problem, pal.”

“You’re the one with the problem.”

“Not anymore. I was just on the phone with your—with your whatever—your future father-in-law. And I said enough. I said I was done.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, yes, I am. All of this—it’s over. You can keep running and keep trying to tell yourself it’s okay.”

“You have all the answers, don’t you?” Alec asked, glaring at me.

“Who’s saying that?”

“It’s easy to judge now, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Alec? Tell me everything. Let’s have the conversation we should have had years ago.”

He drained his beer and waved to the waiter to bring him another.

“That’s not going to help,” I said.

“This—this—” he said, holding up his empty bottle and waving it in my face, “is the only way I’ll be able to tell you anything.”

“That weak, huh?”

“Yeah, okay, maybe so. But look at Bruce. Look at Franklin —or Mike. Look at you. All of us have lost ourselves in our own little worlds. We all have ways of coping.”

“Coping?”

“Yeah. What? Going off to the Himalayas and finding God on the top of a mountain—what, that’s not coping?”

“You read about that in the Providence magazine?”

“I know more about you than you think.”

“Everybody knows more than I know. And I’m getting really sick of it.”

“Just—just give me a little time.”

I stared at him. “What’s a little more time?”

“You’ve waited eleven years. What’s another few hours going to be?”

I stared at this guy, this stranger across from me, not knowing what to think. I didn’t believe a word he said, yet I still
wanted to hear those words. Maybe he’d make me believe him again.

Maybe.

The sun had set on a tiring day, and I sat in a lounge in Chicago with Alec drinking beers. We had spent a couple hours at Tommy’s, playing some pool and eventually having lunch. Then we decided to drive downtown and go to a couple of places before seeing Bruce. Alec was well on his way to being gone, and there was no stopping it. I figured I’d at least have a couple beers to get my nerves at ease.

It was interesting seeing Alec, watching him pound beers with complete abandon. Interesting because I wondered if that’s what I used to be like, how I used to act. The coherent and smug guy from the morning slowly became cynical and annoyed.

Finally, in the evening, after I’d actually bummed a cigarette from Alec, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps out of desperation, my frustration boiled over.

“Is this fun for you?” I asked.

“What?”

“This. All of this. Me having to ask you fifty times to tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“I think that someone wants to find you and that someone else doesn’t want you found.”

“That’s logical. You’re a logical sort of guy, you know.”

“You’re becoming worthless.”

“And you’re becoming a nag,” Alec said.

“Did you have anything to do with Bruce getting shot?”

A shadow fell over Alec’s face. “Do you think I did?”

“I have no idea.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Did you kill Brian Erwin?”

“Wow.”

The name and the question shocked even a drunk Alec.

“That’s all I want to know.”

“You didn’t have to wait eleven years for the answer to that.”

An attractive woman walked by but Alec just glared at me, his eyes cold and narrow.

“What happened to him?”

“Whose story are you going to believe?”

“Franklin said you were the one behind it.”

“Really? There’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. Who do you think I should believe?”

“Why do you think I left?”

“Because you were scared.”

“Wrong.”

“You were the hero then?”

“Carnie was falling apart, and you were too much of a mess to even notice. And don’t look like that. Come on, Jake. Get off your high horse. You’re pathetic. You’re a hypocrite the same way those phonies were at Providence, the ones we used to mock.”

“Not all of them were hypocrites.”

“Listen to you. Listen. Can you hear it? The manure spewing out of your mouth.”

“At least I’m not slurring my words.”

“At least I can remember spring break. Yeah, that’s right. If you hadn’t been so deep in your own personal blackout, you’d remember. You’d know. And maybe, just maybe, Brian would be alive.”

“Shut your face,” I said.

“Oh, now you don’t want to hear about anything? Tell me something. Who picked you up on the side of the road? When you came out of your binge? Who cleaned you up?”

“It’s interesting that out of everyone there, you’re the one who knew what was going on.”

“And that’s supposed to mean what?” Alec said, his voice loud enough for a few women sitting at a table nearby to glance our way.

“Brian went missing, and nobody heard about him ever again. Not even after the cops interrogated us. I told them
everything I could. I didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance.”

“Oh, so then I must be the one? Right? You’re pathetic. I don’t know why I’m sitting here.”

“I had a right to know—”

“We were protecting you! How stupid can you be? Don’t you get that?”

“Protecting me how? What would I have done?”

“Told the cops. Or little Miss Princess. Or God knows who. You were weak then and you’re still weak now.”

“You’ve turned into a mean drunk,” I told him. “You never used to be this way.”

“And you’ve turned into a crushing bore.”

I finished the beer I was drinking. “Tell me about Claire.”

“Tell me about Alyssa.”

“Been spying on me?”

“Ask Bruce,” Alec said.

“About what?”

“Ask Bruce about me. See what he says.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That means that your little friend who’s been tagging along with you—who you’re asking if I helped
gun down
—he’s been actually keeping tabs on you.”

“For
you
? Why would Bruce be spying for you?”

“Why would my best friend get paid to come hunting for me?”

“Why are you hiding from Jelen?”

“Questions, questions, questions.” He cursed again. “Did you see him? Did you? You think a guy like him wants me to have anything to do with his daughter?”

“I don’t much blame him.”

Alec smirked. “That’s friendship.”

“Where is she?”

“Would you relax with the questions? I’m getting tired of hearing my own voice, much less yours. This whole day has tired me out.”

“Then why are you here?”

Alec shook his head. “Because of my friend. Because of Bruce. I was worried about him.”

“Just like you were worried about Carnie, right?”

“No. I learned my lesson that time. That’s never going to happen again.”

“Bruce might die,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I can be there if he does.”

But I wasn’t ready to go back home. Not yet. Not until I knew whether Bruce would be okay.

YOU SEE THE GUY
with his arms tied behind him wrapped in layers of construction tape. A single silver piece is over his mouth. His eyes are wide open and he breathes in through enlarged nostrils hungry for air. He’s in the backseat and you grab his shoulder and he stumbles out on the ground
.

“Get over here,” you tell him
.

He gets to his feet and looks at you and mouths something underneath the tape and you tell him to shut up. This only makes him scream louder
.

And for a second, you look behind you. Then you look back, and he’s taken off, sprinting toward the cornfield. You go off after him, shouting for him to stop
.

And then you’re in rows of corn, much higher than you remember them being. You’re following the trail and the noise
.

You look down in your hand and see that you’re carrying a knife
.

And that’s the image Jake always has when he wakes up, out of breath, gasping for air.

That’s what keeps him from sleeping again.

“Okay, I just need a little information from you,” the deputy said to Jake in a casual, routine manner.

Jake didn’t remember this guy from his prior visit to the police station. This deputy, a guy named Jim Doogan, was maybe in his thirties, lean with a friendly smile. Nothing about his body language or his attitude said that he suspected Jake of causing Brian’s disappearance.

“This is just a formality, as I told you on the phone. We’ve already spoken to a few of your friends.”

Jake nodded and breathed in. He could feel his heart pumping.

First, Jim Doogan asked him a bunch of questions he had already answered several times before, about the home invasion and the beating. Jake recounted them without emotion.

“So where were you the first week in April?”

“That’s spring break,” Jake said. “I was around our apartment for the most part. We decided to go camping Thursday and Friday nights.”

“Much of a camper?”

Jake feigned a smile and a chuckle. “Not at all. Hardly ever do it.”

“And what’d you guys do while you were camping?”

“For the most part? Drink.”

“Several campers in the area said you guys were pretty intoxicated.”

Jake nodded.

“Did you have any interaction with Brian Erwin that week?”

Jake shook his head.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“On campus sometime.”

“Did you talk with him?”

“I avoided him.”

“He never came up to you—said anything to you? Or any of his friends?”

Again, Jake shook his head.

Calm. Steady. Tell them everything you know. Just as easy as that
.

“What’s your general feeling about Brian Erwin?”

I like him a lot. He’s swell
.

Jake knew now wasn’t the time for sarcasm.

“Can’t say I really liked the guy. Since he nearly killed me and basically got away with it.”

The policeman nodded, almost as if in agreement.

“But you have had no interaction with him since then?”

Jake thought of the voice mail and almost told the cop about it. But that muddied up the already filthy waters. No point in bringing that up.

Especially since Brian Erwin had been missing for two weeks.

They talked for another ten minutes, then Doogan thanked Jake for coming. “What is the best place to reach you at if we need to ask you anything else?”

Jake said his apartment and then left, relieved and hopeful that this was all he needed to do.

The phone was ringing when he opened his apartment door.

“Yeah?”

“What’d you tell them?”

It was Franklin. No greeting, no explanation, nothing except the urgent question.

“How’d you know—?”

“Carnie told me.”

“I told them what I know.”

“And what is that?”

“Where’re you calling from?”

“Just tell me.”

Jake cursed. “You’ve disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“No, I haven’t. I just want to know what you said.”

Jake recounted his explanation. “That good enough for you?” Then he asked, “Where’d you go? That morning?”

Franklin’s voice sounded remote. “I had to be back home to study.”

Jake laughed in disbelief. “Franklin—”

“Alec says you’re breaking down on us.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means exactly what it’s supposed to mean.”

“I just want someone to be honest with me.”

“I’m being honest.”

“I want one of my friends, one of my
friends
, to simply tell me the truth.”

“You don’t get it, even after everything Alec’s told you.”

“Don’t get what?”

There was silence in the phone, and Jake shouted his question again.

“We’re looking out for you, Jake. You might not see that, but we are.”

Jake wasn’t sure what to say.

“Just hang in there, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Music has this way of making you drown out life’s worries and warts. Music and booze.

This was what Jake was thinking about as he submerged himself in both.

“I wish I could’ve gone to the memorial service.”

“Huh?” Jake asked Mike.

“For Kurt Cobain.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Can you believe it?”

“No,” Jake said as an afterthought. “There’s a lot I can’t believe these days.”

The music at Shaughnessy’s was louder than usual as their playlist honored Cobain’s memory. It had been two weeks since spring break and the camping trip and since Brian Erwin had officially gone missing. The local Chicago news stations had picked up the story and gave daily updates on the progress of the search for Brian.

“That’s my favorite song, I think,” Mike said, as the jukebox started playing “Come As You Are.”

“Mike,” Jake said above the music. “Just here. Just one time. Tell me what happened that night?”

“Come on, man.” Mike shook his head. “It’s no good.”

“You know I tell you everything.”

“Sure. I do too. It’s just …”

The place was crowded. Jake and Mike were in no fear of someone overhearing their conversation; they could barely hear each other.

“You guys took him, didn’t you? That night?”

“Jake …”

“Didn’t you?” Jake shouted. “Just tell me.”

“Of course we did.”

“Who?”

“Franklin, Carnie, me.”

“How—did anybody see you?”

Mike shook his head. “No. It was late. You guys were back at camp. We deliberately got you loaded so you wouldn’t suspect anything. Alec stayed back with you.”

“But how?”

“He was going to his car. Parked in the distant lot on campus.”

“How’d you get him to go with you?”

“He was heading to work. Late shift on the garbage truck. Franklin knew about it.”

“So what’d you do?”

“Nothing. I mean, we tied him up with duct tape and brought him out.”

“Then what happened?”

“Jake, come on. I swore.”

“To who?”

“To Franklin.”

“I’m glad to see where your loyalty is.”

“This has nothing to do with loyalty!” Mike shouted and drank his beer. “I’m telling you. Franklin warned us not to say anything. He said that—he said it would protect you.”

Jake’s stomach felt sick. “Come on, Mike. What happened then?”

“I don’t know. I just—he got away. And I …”

“What? What do you mean he got away?”

“It’s really blurry,” Mike said.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I swear. It was insane. I mean, I don’t think things were ever as out of hand as that night. You were—you were pretty gone. And Alec—he had the grand plan, you know. And Carnie—everybody was just so messed up.”

“I know.”

“I mean,
really
gone. I was pretty freaked out by everything. You ended up disappearing. Alec went missing. Franklin. Carnie. Bruce.”

“That’s great.”

“I’m telling you what I know.”

Jake looked at Mike and knew he was telling the truth. “Just tell me one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“How’d you get that cut on your hand?”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Come on.”

“I swear, man, I don’t know.”

Jake stared off at the bar. His thoughts were random and heavy and he couldn’t sort them out.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“That guy had it coming.”

“Nobody deserves to …”

Mike looked at him and nodded. “Maybe he, maybe he just went missing.”

“And what?” Jake asked. “He’s going to come back around?”

“Franklin would kill me if he knew I told you this.”

“I don’t know anything more than I already knew.”

“Jake—this is serious.”

“Think I don’t know that?”

“It’s serious for you.”

“No. It’s serious for all of us.”

Mike took a drink and watched Jake, waited for his response.

“We all have to live with what happened. All of us. This isn’t going to go away.”

“I know.”

They listened to the fierce music and kept drinking.

Jake remembered opening the door to his apartment and seeing Brian Erwin and Chad Hoving standing there, waiting for him.

Grabbing him and punching him and kicking him.

He didn’t deserve this
, Jake thought.
No matter what happened to me, he didn’t deserve this
.

“Hey,” Mike said.

“What?”

“Can I get you another beer?”

“Get some shots. I need to get rid of this.”

“Get rid of what?”

“This guilt.”