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Circling the structure, I saw it was still in pristine condition, my foundation holding up and no vandalism so far.
Tires screeched on the street, and I looked over to see Sticks crowded with people and four black vehicles racing up to parking spots on the curb, Will’s truckbed loaded with people.
Tires peeled, smoke billowing into the air, and people shouted as car stereos blared.
“How’s it going?”
I looked over my shoulder, seeing Trevor Crist holding a football. He tossed it back to his buddy down on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” I muttered, looking back at Sticks.
Will climbed out of the driver’s side, grabbing the black T-shirt out of the back of his jeans and pulling it on as Damon came up behind him and appeared to be whispering something in his ear. I couldn’t see their faces.
People cleared the sidewalk as they crossed it, walking into Sticks.
“Look at it this way,” I heard Trevor say. “Once they graduate, Devil’s Night is dead. Thank-fucking-God, right?”
I turned to him. “Not going to carry on the family tradition?”
Trevor was three years behind his brother Michael. Plenty of time left in high school.
But he just scoffed. “You mean the once-a-year beef fest where my brother and his friends get the whole town to suck their cocks because they’re too stupid to remember how to be men the other three-hundred-sixty-four days of the year?” He shook his head. “No.”
I snorted. I may have misjudged him. The silver spoon in his mouth was salty.
“When everyone grows up and realizes they’re nothing,” he continued. “I’ll laugh and celebrate then. Or when they finally get arrested for all the dumb shit they pull.”
“Some brother you are.”
He shrugged, but I smiled a little. He might not be so bad, after all.
And I understood where he was coming from. I wouldn’t cry if my brother got into a little trouble.
In the distance, Will took out a cell phone as he stepped into the hangout, looking like he was filming a couple of the guys rough housing.
“That is true, though, isn’t it?” I thought out loud. “About the risk of getting arrested, I mean. They film everything with that phone. It’s pretty careless.”
Trevor followed my gaze, everyone knowing that the Horsemen recorded their escapades. There was proof of all the petty crimes and pranks they’d pulled.
“If anyone had half a mind to,” I went on, “there would be no way to ignore their behavior if someone shared those videos in the right place, you know? Can you imagine the embarrassment?”
The places they’d robbed? Vandalized? The underage girls—maybe guys, too—or hey, maybe there were even married women on that phone. The town would go crazy.
He was silent for a moment, and when I looked back at him, his gaze was still on the crowd in Sticks, but his expression was serious as the wheels in his head turned.
“They’re too comfortable in their surroundings, that’s for sure,” he added.
I nodded. “False sense of safety and all that.”
They took video—probably pictures, too—because they knew they were invincible. Even if anyone found it, would it amount to any more than a slap on the wrist and some very embarrassed parents?
Money solved all problems.
Trevor still stood there, gazing after them in the billiards hall.
“Learn a lesson from this,” I told him. “Don’t document your shit. The Internet lives forever. Got it.”
But I didn’t think he heard me as he absently nodded.
