Promises Made, Promises Broken - SYTYCW (Bad Reputation)

Present Day (Chapter Eighteen) Wednesday

Joey

At the noisy click of the lock on my makeshift prison, I shifted slightly.  I didn't know how long I'd been sitting in the same spot, but it had been hours.  I'd prowled the apartment a dozen times over and found nothing but a bottle of window cleaner and a musty sheet.  I'd slammed my fist into the living room wall and kicked up a cloud of drywall dust that made me sneeze.  

When enough time had passed that the sun no longer shone through the window and my stomach began to growl insistently, I'd sunk down against the wall again, and stayed there with my gaze fizzed on the yellowed ceiling.  

"Joseph."

I looked up at the sound of my father's voice.  I noticed that as he pushed the door open, he was careful not to touch it with his hands.  When he made his way toward me, however, his face was a careful mask of indifference to his surroundings.  The sight of him shot fury through my veins.  I jumped to my feet, prepared to unleash it all on my father.

"Tucker Greenleaf," he stated calmly.

The angry feeling in my stomach quickly morphed into a sick one.  Her name on his lips reeked on wrongness.

"You want to tell me how I found that out?" he asked.

"Since when does it matter what I want?"

He didn't bother to acknowledge my question. "Dr. Knowles had an interesting conversation with his daughter. Seems she ran into a friend of hers up on campus."

Goddamned Amber.

"Seems the two of them went to high school together," my dad went on. "Which makes me wonder how you didn't garner that extremely relevant little bit of information."

I looked away, but it wasn't quick enough.

"Ah. So you did know."

"I knew. But Amber didn't share the girl's name with me."

"But you do know it. Now."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Two days, maybe."

"And were you going to tell it to me?"

Was I? I honestly didn't know.

I shrugged helplessly.

"That's about what I thought," my dad said.

He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a thin folder, and held it out toward me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's the Greenleaf file. I thought you might want to know what you're getting into."

"It doesn't look like much," I scoffed.

"Maybe not. But it's enough."

For a moment, I itched to reach for the folder, to learn even more about where she came from, to know a little more about what made her tick.

"Open it," my father said. "I think it's important for you to know that this girl is just a repeat of the last. And you know what happened with that other one."

My fingers closed, forming an involuntary fist. "Don't you dare bring Beth into this."

"I'm just saying, Joey, pick your alliances closely."

He reached into his briefcase again before I could react to that statement, and pulled out a second folder, much thicker than the first.

"This one's yours," he announced.

"Courtesy of Pete?" I asked, hearing the disgust in my voice.

"Courtesy of every misdeed you've committed over the last five years."

"I've keep my nose cleaner than yours for the last one of those years," I reminded him.

He ignored my words, and opened "my" folder on the kitchen counter, letting photographs and papers fan out.

"One bar, nearly burned to the ground. One pool, filled with red dye. One vomit-filled night at a carnival. Three counts of public indecency. Two girls claiming you impregnated them - "

"That last part is utter bullshit," I interrupted.

"Small miracles, Joey."

"Not so much. I know where babies come from, Dad."

"Eighteen complaints from the neighbours. One request from the dean at your previous college to have you removed. An embarrassing escapade involving a can of spray pain, a large bridge, and a word I won't repeat. And you can wipe the smirk off your face, right now. None of it's cute, or funny. I've included a financial breakdown to go along with your list of transgressions."

"I'm glad you can put your business sense to good use in relation to my life."

"My business sense puts food on the table, money in your pocket, and gas in your truck," he reminded me. "But that's not why I'm showing you this. You're my son, whether you like it or not. And if you won't help yourself…"

"What? You'll be forced to help me in any way you see fit?"

He nodded once. "I'm giving you some time to think about the consequences of you actions. When I leave, Pete will come by with your keys and your phone."

"What is it you want, exactly? You've got the girl's name and you've got more information on her background than I do."

"I want to know what's going to get her to stop," he replied coldly. 

"Dad, I don't - "

He put a hand up. 

"You need to ask yourself when family is going to start coming first. You need to ask yourself what lengths I'm willing to go to, to get my way." Genuine pain crossed his features quickly, then disappeared. "Your actions and your choice in women already made me lose one son. I don't want to see it happen again. Twenty-four hours. Get her to back off. And Joey...Do what you're told, or I'm going to make what's in her folder public knowledge."

“You can take the folder with you,” I said, and shoved it back into his hands. “I’m not interested in dirt.”

He slammed the door shut so hard the floor shook, and left me staring after him.  In seconds, Pete came in and handed me my keys and phone as if he hadn’t kidnapped me just hours earlier.

“Fuck you very much,” I said cheerily as I took my belongings.

He shrugged, then disappeared.  By the time I reached my truck, the other man was nowhere to be seen, and my phone was buzzing.

Tucker, I thought immediately, and answered without checking.

“Hi, sweetheart. Miss me?”

A deep chuckle answered me. “Not gonna lie, man. A little bit.”

“Shit. Sorry, Evan. It’s been a hell of day. What’s up?”

“What do you mean what’s up? I’ve left you sixteen messages.”

“Lost my phone.”

“And you forgot what day it is.”

“Wednesday.”

“Casino Wednesday. Set up starts in thirty.” 

“Crap!” I muttered.

For a moment, I considered cancelling.  Usually, the monthly party was something I looked forward to.  Hell, the whole thing had been my idea from the start.  Today, I was dead tired.  All I wanted to do was call Tucker, confess everything, and beg for forgiveness. Then inspiration struck me.

“Hey, Ev?”

“Yeah, man?”

“You know how you’re always saying you guys can never thank me enough for starting Casino Night? I think I’ve just thought of the perfect way to express your gratitude.”