What Was I Thinking? Ch. 02

Late Thursday evening as I excitedly examined and tried out all of the new camping gear that I'd ordered from the Caleb's catalog and Gander Mountain on the deck, I heard a car pull up to the house.

Curious I went inside. But before I got to front window behind the bar, I could hear the sound of radio transmissions and guys talking. I froze.

Since there's a security gate adjoining the garage to the house that prevents anyone from just walking up the stairs to the front door, I just waited for the buzzer to ring. I could see the flashing lights reflecting off the glass as I stood by the desk.

What could Jason have done to warrant a visit from the police. Whatever it was I supposed I was ready. No matter what it may be, I'll just have to deal with it.

When phone rang, I answered.

"Yes?"

"LAPD Detective Squad. Is this the residence of Nicholas Silveri?"

What? They had to be mistaken. Nick couldn't be in trouble. Unless he was hurt. My heart rate went from mild concern to panic in an instant.

"Yes. Come up please?" I answered, ringing the buzzer.

Heart pounding with trepidation, I opened the door and peered down the stone stairwell.

"I'm Detective Kilgore and this is Detective Trout, may we come in?"

"Yes, of course."

My heart nearly erupting as I steeled myself for what they must be about to tell me.

---

When I arrived at the hospital, Nick was still in surgery. The extent of his injuries was pretty sever but they expected him to live. Later, when asked, I had to tell a small white lie so that I could sit with him in recovery.

"Are you a relative?"

"Yes, he's my step brother."

"Okay, you can go in."

Nothing, no words can prepare you to see someone that you love, so violently assaulted and helplessly unconscious.

As soon as I set eyes on him, my heart seized and the tears started to flow. Every bit of strength drained out of me.

One eye swollen shut, the other badly bruised and cut. His mouth swollen and battered. His right arm in a plaster cast and from the doctor's report Nick was currently minus one ruptured spleen.

There was some head trauma too. Apparently he'd been kicked or stomped in the head as well.

I couldn't prevent the gasp that escaped my throat as I went to his bedside.

My beautiful boy so horribly mauled and beaten. As he lay there motionless, all I could do was hold onto his one good hand, with its bruised and scraped knuckles.

Standing there next to him, I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Then a huge wave of emotion ruthlessly overtook me and I began to sob uncontrollably. All I could think of was how much I loved him and how much he meant to me.

Never having been a religious man, I did what any agnostic does at a time like this. I prayed heartily for his safe recovery. I would have given up my very soul for him.

Moments and then hours passed. And then, with my head down next to his leg, weeping quietly, I felt his hand on the back of my head.

"Dude, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Nick asked.

As I looked up I winced when I saw the bright red dot coloring a large portion of the sclera in his right eye. More tears rushed out of me before I could stop them.

"How do you feel?" I asked, choking back my emotions.

"Like shit." He answered. "What happened, did I get hit by a truck?"

"No, you're alright." I assured him.

But before I could finish he was asleep again. He asked the same question each time he woke up over the next several hours. I was afraid for him. But also I was angry. Angry at whomever was responsible for this.

And this was no ordinary anger. This was the kind of anger that warrants state prison time. Someone was going to pay for this. Someone was going to pay dearly. Someone was going to have to die before this was over. And that was too bad. But so be it.

There is no other thing on this earth that I have found more profoundly damaging to my soul and human spirit than to look upon someone so dear to me, as they lay so damaged and broken before me. I, myself would rather be tortured unto death or burned alive than see such a sight as this.

Yes, someone must die for this transgression. And not an easy death either.

According to the detectives Nick had been assaulted outside his bar by unknown assailants. There was only one witness, but he had so intoxicated that all he could say was that there were two of them. And that they jumped him."

Apparently when he'd left work, he'd found that his motorcycle had been destroyed and they'd attacked him when he approached it.

Its odd how staggeringly incompetent and uninformed the police seem when you're on the victimized side of a crime, yet they're Dick Tracy when they believe you're the one who has done something wrong.

That was the feeling I got while being questioned by the police as to my whereabouts during the assault. No matter, I had my own thoughts on who might be responsible.

---

During my police interrogation, Scott rang me wondering where the hell I was and wanting to know why I hadn't bothered to confirm our plans to go camping.

I don't think they really suspected me but they did put me through the paces before they left me alone.

Scott and Julia showed up at the hospital a little while after that to lend their support, but I sent them home after a while because I could only remain selfless and composed for so long.

Scott came back alone later and sat with me. I was more than a little surprised to see tears in his eyes as he embraced me. By then Nick was awake and coherent.

"Alright, Scott I'm getting a little jealous. You're gonna have to get your hands off my guy." He smiled.

It was a several days before I could take him home.

---

As glad as I was to have him home, I got angrier and angrier as I counted the wounds and healing bruises on his body.

Nick didn't seem to remember any of it. In fact, he only vaguely remembered being at work that day. But not much after that.

Luckily, some passers-by had interrupted the attack and the assailants had fled. And after seeing how battered and bleeding Nick was one of them had gone back into the bar to alert the manager.

Otherwise, he might be dead now.

Nick suffered some bouts of short term memory loss due to the head trauma he'd suffered. The doctor couldn't say if it was going to be permanent or not.

The horror and shock of what had been done to him slowly began to coalesce into something much darker in my soul. Rage, contempt and revenge began to pollute my every waking thought. But I never let him know that.

I tried to find out from Nick who he thought might have wanted to hurt him.

Of course, he had no idea. After all, Nick is one of the nicest guys you would ever want to meet. But even so, I began to suspect that there was anyone who might be harboring a grudge against him.

Nick did finally did confess to me that there had more than one time that someone tried to force him off the road on his bike.

I knew that it had happened once, but I found myself enraged that he hadn't told me about the other occurrences. Of course I suppressed my anger while in his presence.

I thought first of hiring a detective to track the movements of my prime suspect but then reconsidered. After all, I had every intention of killing this person. I didn't want any material witnesses in case there was protracted trial.

I had to be sure before I began to stalk my prey.

One day after I'd set Nick up on the deck with a portable television and some snacks, I began to ply him for information.

"Hey, remember that day when you had it out with Marc out here?"

"What?"

"You remember, Marc?"

Marc and I had, had a brief fling while I was still getting to know Nick. He was a 'B' movie actor that I'd met through a friend of friend. He was a completely self-indulgent, self-involved asshole and I treated him as such.

"Oh yeah." Nick frowned.

"So, what did he say to you that got you so riled up that day?"

"I don't know, it was something about me being the flavor of the month and then something nasty about you."

"What was it?" I pressed.

"I don't know." Nick shrugged. "But I remember thinking that I didn't like him much and that he needed his ass kicked."

"So you hit him?" I asked.

"Of course not."

"What, he hit you?"

"No, I think I said derogatory about his lame ass career. That's when he swung at me."

"Okay, yeah, that's what I saw then."

Nick had expertly dodged Marc's jab and knocked him out in less than three seconds. I had to take Marc to hospital where he'd swore revenge against Nick.

"Why? Has that hound been sniffing around you again?"

"No." I said, smiling. "I was just wondering.

"Oh." Nick said turning back to the television.

Marc was a dead man. Now, how to exact my revenge.

---

Nick's recovery was pretty swift, but due in large part to his own efforts. I was glad to get him from the hospital.

"Dude, what the deal with not having any medical insurance?" I asked hovering over him, adjusting pillow and generally making sure that he was comfortable.

"I mean, for crying out loud, you used to ride a motorcycle."

"What can I say?" He just shrugged.

"Well, not to worry. After a little negotiating and some creative paperwork, I was able to get you all fixed up." I said. "Course it would have been a hell of lot simpler if we were married."

"Wait, who said I wouldn't? I'd marry you in a second." He chuckled. "Was that a proposal?"

"Doesn't quite work like that for our purposes." I laughed.

"I know what you meant." He smiled up at me as I kissed his forehead.

Nick paused thoughtfully for a moment as if trying to recall something.

"What did you mean used to ride a bike? He asked. "What happened to my bike?"

"Well, they trashed it." I answer.

"Totaled?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh well, we had a good run." He said without missing a beat.

I know precisely how much that bike meant to him, despite his pretense of nonchalance. He took care of it like a small child.

At that point, I decided to make it my mission to try to resurrect the wreck of Scott's bike. I secretly conscripted Scott to help me with the task. It turned out to be easier just to buy a new one. But I kept the remnants of the old one, just in case.

I certainly couldn't find the exact one, with all of Nick's modifications and customizations. But I came as close as I could and hid it under a tarp in the garage, behind my SUV where I knew he would never look.

While I was out, I also purchased two discreet looking, eighteen karat, white gold rings. No ornamentation. Just two unobtrusive and tasteful, identical bands. Except, around the inside of one ring, I had engraved, one simple, yet earnest sentiment. 'CB loves NS'.

Later when I got back with dinner, I greet Nick warmly and served him up his meal.

"Thanks man, you didn't have to that." He smiled. "I could've gotten something from the fridge."

"I know." I said. "But I figured since I was already out..."

After he finished his meal, he gave me a sidelong glance.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah, I got you something else." I said, tossing him the ring.

"What's the hell's this?" He said, catching it awkwardly in his one good hand.

He looked it over, then silently read the inscription. Then he smiled without looking up.

"Where's yours?" Nick asked, looking up at me and clearing his throat.

I showed it to him. He took it from me and just stare at me for a moment.

"Well, give me your hand." He demanded.

I did and he placed it on the appropriate finger. Then I took his hand and repeated the act on him. We kissed and then never spoke about it again.

---

Meanwhile, I started covertly following Marc around and observing his habits.

I realized that I was obsessing, but Nick is my boy and someone had tried to hurt him. Loyalty is worth more to me than anything.

So I confronted him one night in a bar. What was I thinking?

"Oh, hey Craig, so where's your boyfriend tonight?" He said nastily when he saw me.

It quickly turned ugly and a brawl broke out. The little bitch kneed me right in the sack when I had him down on the floor and let my elbow drop on face in the brief seconds before the excruciating pain set in.

The next day I set my plan in motion.

The first part of my plan involved a little computer fraud, so I can't and won't go into detail about how I did it. Suffice it to say, never piss off an ambitious computer programmer if you have a credit card, bank account or other means of having your identity stolen.

With all the current technological safeguards in place today this wasn't an easy task. But it was do-able.

Next, I enlisted the help of Jason. I needed him to seduce and flatter the ego of that bastard while surreptitiously planting a loaded weapon and a few grams of heroin in his car, careful not leave any fingerprints. I can't divulge where I got drugs either, but let's just say, its not hard to get.

This was part was easy. Jason is reliable and utterly irresistible to members of either sex. All I had to do was ask and he was there for me. He needed no why's or wherefores.

Jason performed his part with deadly accuracy, while I emptied Marc's bank account and max-ed out all of his credit cards. I neither wanted nor needed his assets, so I donated all of it to charity.

Then at just the right moment, I anonymously phoned the police and alerted them of his whereabouts and the fact that he was holding.

I actually sat in my car and watched as they pulled him over and searched his vehicle. They violated him and his civil rights in more ways than I can count. It was delicious.

Afterwards I went home and slept like a baby after kissing Nick goodnight. Things had gone a lot smoother than I had ever anticipated.

---

Then something rather unexpected and kinda awful happened. Sometime after my little walk on the dark side, I caught the tail end of a daily news blurb about some 'B' movie actor committing suicide. I broke out in a cold sweat when I the name. It was Marc.

While I didn't get any satisfaction from the news of his death, I was mildly amused by the fact that they called him one of Hollywood's most promising young talents. Oh well, that's life in the big city. Don't mess with bull young man, you'll get the horns.

"Isn't that...?" Nick said. "I mean wasn't that...?

"Yeah, I think it was." I said. "What do you think about getting out of here? You're well enough to travel aren't you?"

---

With a little coaxing, Nick agreed on a trek through Europe with me. We had decided to wait until his cast was off before we would leave.

Late one evening after a visit to travel agent and then picking some take out for dinner, I returned home to find the house dark and quiet. This seemed a little odd since Nick hates the dark. I'm the only one who turns out the light when I leave.

"Nick, I'm back."

I heard some movement in the bedroom and thought nothing of it. Then I heard a thump. Nick must've fallen.

I rushed to the bedroom, where I saw Jason struggling with Nick for a gun.

"What the hell?" I shouted, moving toward them.

Just then Jason whacked Nick on his broken arm with the butt of the automatic handgun sending him sprawling to floor, writhing in pain. Then he kicked him for good measure.

"Don't try it!" Jason sneered, turning the gun on me.

"What are you doing man?" I asked incredulously. "What's this all about?"

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." Jason spat at me. "Isn't that right? I'm sure Marc Vincent would agree. If he were still alive, but you saw to that didn't you?"

"Shut up!" I said through bared teeth.

I looked at Nick laying there clutching his bad arm.

"I can't believe your fucking ego man! You thought it was Marc?" He laughed crazily, eyes gleaming. "Marc was done with you when you let your little boyfriend here beat the hell out of him.

"It was me. I hired those incompetent fucks to kill your boy here. Who do you thinks been trying to run him off the road on that piece of shit motorcycle? Me! Who do think burned down that rat trap of a trailer? That's right me again."

I was stunned, to say the least.

"Why the fuck are you trying to hurt him?" I asked, thoroughly confused. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Come on, I know you're not that dense." Jason said. "He did the same thing that Jorge did, he stood in my way. That's why he's got to go too.

"Oh, Jorge was easy pickings. All I had to do was get him to fuck me. See he was a gentleman, he could stick around with that on his conscience, so he baled on you. Oh, he did try to come looking for you later, but after I told him you were already taken, well, he fucked me again and went on his merry way. And you, almost catching us together that day. That was priceless. I wouldn't have given anything to see the look on your face. He didn't hang on like this one, here.

"This one won't fuck me, hell he won't even look at me most of the time. I think he thinks he's too good for me." Jason said, looking down at Nick. "Is that right? Are you too good for me?"

Jason kicked him hard when he didn't answer.

"Don't!" I said.

"And why not?" Jason sneered. "You think he's too good for me too? You think he's better than me? He's a bartender for Christ's sake."

"Come on dude. Put the gun down." I pleaded. "We talk about this."

"Oh, you idiot, the time for talking is over." He laughed. "What did you think, you could just fuck my ass, in my own father's house no less, then fuck my best friend for good measure. Then you drag my halfway across the country. What was I suppose to be your pet? Your lapdog? You selfish mother fucker."

"You begged me to bring you with me?" I shot back.

"That's right and you did, didn't you? Cause you wanted me here. And when you got me here you just ignored me. You thought you'd just come back here, with me in tow and resume your relationship with Jorge and forget about me? I don't think so!"

"I specifically told you, before I ever brought you here, that there was not going to be anything between us. In fact, that the main condition under which I had agreed to let you come."

"Blah, blah, blah..." He droned. "You brought me anyway though, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Jason started to laugh manically. And he wouldn't quit. He laughed and laughed for what seemed like ever.

The words he spat at me vaguely resembled the truth, but some he'd gotten it all twisted in his mind. That fact however, didn't lessen the sting of remorse that shot through suddenly and with tremendous force. I felt a profound sadness well up in me, underscored with a tremendous amount of guilt. An odd mixture of guilt and compassion for this poor bastard.

Just then Nick lashed out with his foot, knocking Jason off balance.

"You fucking bastard!" Jason yell, trying desperately not to fumble the gun.

But before he could secure his grip on it again, I was on him. The gun went off. Nobody moved for a moment, then Nick smashed Jason in head with his cast, which didn't knock him out but stunned him enough to make him forget about the gun. I grabbed it and pressed it firmly into Jason's temple.

"Go ahead, shoot!" Jason dared.

I had no intention of shooting him and he knew it.

"Then get the hell off me!" He yelled, pushing me off and bolting for the door. He was gone in seconds.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking at Nick.

"I guess." He said. "But it doesn't look like you were so lucky."

Looking down at myself, I saw a crimson stain spreading down the outside of my thigh. I knew it was just a graze by the way my trousers were ripped and it didn't hurt that much. Beside, if it had been a direct hit, I would have known it long before now.

"Nah, its alright." I said, examining it more closely. "Just a scratch."