Monday
September 3, 2018
Rhys despises public transportation with a passion. The nearness of sweaty bodies makes his skin crawl and the noise grates on his nerves, but there’s nothing to do. He just wishes all the people around him would disappear. He scowls down at his feet, then checks his watch. Ten more minutes, if nothing happens. He can do it. If only time flew faster, or at least the blasted subway train wasn’t so slow.
God, when will this ride finally end?
He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to hold his desperate pants in. If only he didn’t make a promise about being there under an hour. If only he didn’t hate breaking his promises. If only… Fuck, why couldn’t Thommy invite him? That whiny little bitch Mark could have taken it. And if not, no one was holding a gun to his head to go with them. It’s all his fault anyway for being an idiot and getting into a totally one-sided fight with the new guy, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat.
Rhys growls, feeling like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, but the train is finally slowing down and then the doors are opening and he is pushing his way through the crowd, not caring who he pushes away or whose feet he tramples all over. He has to get out and no one can stop him from doing so.
He pulls his phone out and dials James’ number the very second he reaches the street, his trembling left hand hidden in the pocket of his light jacket.
“Rhys?” James’ voice is shaky. “Where are you?”
“Just got off the subway. I’ll be there in a few minutes. What about Thommy?”
“I don’t know. They still haven’t told me anythi—Oh.”
“What?” Rhys demands, his nerves kicking up another notch. “James, what the hell is going on?”
“The new teach is here.”
“Where is Thommy?”
“I have no idea, they took him away in cuffs and haven’t seen him since… Oh, shiiit, he noticed me! Hurry, Rhys!” The line disconnects, and Rhys breaks into a run, checking street signs one after another to make sure he won’t get lost.
If Armand made a scene while Rhys wasn’t there, who would defend James and Thommy? Especially James, who, despite all his bravado, stands no chance against authority figures. He’s too soft, too weak to stand up for himself, and even if Armand had put forward an innocent face at school, Rhys just knows he wouldn’t be so ‘sweet’ and ‘caring’ where no one can see him and get him into trouble. They never are.
He steels himself when he reaches the precinct building, yanking the door open and striding in with all the superiority he was spoon-fed as a kid. No one tries to stop him as he walks up to the information counter doing his best to ooze all the purebred arrogance that’s second nature to his family.
“Rhys?!” a voice almost yells, and Rhys turns his head, ignoring the receptionist’s dark look. James is standing a few feet away from him, his skinny body shaking slightly. “Oh God, Rhys, you have to come and see this!”
“What’s going on?” He leaves the counter without a second glance, even when the officer behind it calls after him.
“You won’t believe this! Ohmygod, this is some seriously good shit, Rhys! Come!” James babbles and the moment Rhys is close enough, he grabs his wrist and starts dragging him towards the middle of the bullpen area.
It’s easy to see their new teacher’s blond head despite all the people mingling around because he’s standing, basically towering over a middle-aged guy in a gray suit. Rhys can’t see his face fully from this position but his profile looks like the scariest china doll he has ever seen, especially because he ditched his ridiculous glasses somewhere and there is nothing to soften his sharp features. Thommy is nowhere in sight and he can’t hear what Armand is saying, but he certainly cannot be apologizing with that kind of expression.
Then they actually get within hearing distance and the first thing that reaches Rhys' ears is the plainclothes cop’s words, “Well, Mr. Armand, this wouldn’t be the first—”
“Lieutenant, make sure you choose your next words wisely,” Armand interrupts and his voice is horribly polite yet somehow manages to send a shiver down Rhys’ spine. “No one would want to risk their careers over such a trivial matter, would they?”
“Are you threatening me?!”
“Of course not.” The visible part of Armand’s lips curl upwards and his tone turns syrupy. He must see them from the corner of his eye, however, because he pauses for a moment, his shoulders tensing. “I’m just a concerned citizen. After all, losing our city’s best law enforcers to pesky and frankly unnecessary lawsuits would be a terrible waste.”
“Lawsuits?!” the cop snaps and nearly jumps out of his seat, he stands up so fast.
“Yes, for slander and unlawful conduct at the very least.” Rhys has no idea how the man manages to sound so… innocent while practically tearing someone to pieces verbally. “Unless you have even the slightest evidence against Mr. Prescott?”
“He was found with the stolen briefcase and his face was battered. Just because his accomplices managed to get away—”
“According to my sources, Mr. Prescott has not even been on site when the robbery happened. And I’m aware that you cannot officially conduct his interview without the presence of his legal guardian but are you trying to tell me your officers just handcuffed him and dragged him here without a single word?” Armand turns to face the cop and thus Rhys and James fully. His face could be carved into marble instead of made of flesh and bones by the way he looks at the lieutenant, and Rhys has to admit that he has guts. “So I repeat my question, Lieutenant Madsen, do you have any non-circumstantial evidence against my student?”
Silence.
The back of Madsen’s neck is bright red alongside his ears, so it’s not hard to imagine that his face looks like a lobster too. Good, the bastard deserves to squirm after arresting Thommy just because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. The man’s hands clench and unclench by his sides as he heaves a sigh and then shakes his head.
“No, Mr. Armand. But we still would like Thomas to give a statement,” he manages to grind the words through his teeth and make them sound mostly understandable. Rhys feels his lips twitch.
Armand looks over the officer’s shoulder right at them, but his face is still impassive and inscrutable. “You will have to ask Mr. Prescott about that. He might be underage but he can make decisions for himself,” he says, still holding Rhys’ gaze.
“That is…” Glacial gray eyes slide over to the lieutenant and the man instantly trails off. He turns, just realizing that Rhys and James have been standing behind him, and his dark eyes widen in shock before narrow in anger. “You,” he accuses, attention on James. “I told you to wait outside, not to bring in one of your friends! This is not a playground!”
“Thommy is our friend! And if you listened to me when I told you it wasn’t him—”
“Mr. Hudson,” Armand says, calm and quiet yet James still shuts up. “My students will of course return to the waiting area, Lieutenant, but certainly, you cannot blame them for worrying for their friend.”
“Just let’s get this over with.” Madsen sounds tired. “Palmer!” he calls out of nowhere, and a young woman in her early twenties rush up to them decked out in full uniform.“Take the kids back to the waiting area. Give them a coffee, or whatever they want. And don’t take your eyes off them. Mr. Armand, this way.” He gestures a hand towards one of the elevators in the other end of the bullpen and then leads Armand away.
“Be good boys. We’ll be back soon,” Armand says with the same smile he wore back in the classroom before he follows the lieutenant.
Rhys doesn’t bother with answering, and James is too busy staring at the young officer to say anything. As long as he isn’t focusing on Thommy and what’s going to happen, Rhys is fine with whatever distraction he finds. It allows Rhys to contemplate his own thoughts and rebuild his shaken up defenses. Because Dmitri Armand once again managed to surprise him more than he’s comfortable to admit.
He doesn’t know what to think, which is starting to become a trend with his new teacher, but he is still unwilling to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Just because he stood up for one of them, fought and won a fight as if it was nothing. As if it was natural. It has to be a ploy, a trick before he attacks, trying to lull them into compliance. After all, that’s what adults always do. A few nice things won’t change his mind.
Resolve once again firmed, he follows James and the officer back to the waiting area and sits down into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lined up next to some potted monstrosity. James is chatting away, trying to charm the pretty officer with his dimples and non-existent bravery, not even realizing that he’s basically giving a statement. Rhys has half the mind to stop him, to tell him to stop being an idiot, but in this case, James’ babbling might just be useful and help Thommy’s case.
“So we have these training sessions, you know,” James says, at least having enough brain not to tell a cop what they are usually up to in the Bronx. “We have fun and horse around, learning cool moves, and how to defend ourselves. It’s real awesome. And a good way to let off some steam. Which Mark totally needed today ‘cuz he’s all prissy about our new teach.”
“New teacher?” the officer asks, her smile patient and welcoming. She’s obviously still a rookie—too young to be anything but, not to mention she’s blushing under her light layer of makeup, large eyes shining with eagerness to gather as much information as possible—but she seems to have good instincts and knows how to use her assets to get what she wants. Rhys adjusts his focus to make sure James doesn’t say too much.
“Ah yeah, the guy you saw with your boss.” James flaps his hand. “He looked like a total dweeb back in school, so it was a real shock he could be so badass.” He snickers and for the first time since he laid eyes on Officer Palmer, he looks at Rhys. “Right, Rhys? You didn’t expect this either.”
Rhys shrugs unwilling to say anything in front of the officer.
“Come on, you gotta admit he was royal kickass,” James presses on, his grin wide and relieved.
“Oh, so Mr. Armand is a new teacher at your school?”
“Yeah, we met him this morning. And he still came and stuck up for Thommy, who is really innocent, honest!” He looks back at the officer as if he could make her believe him with his eyes only. “Like, you know we went to training today too. That’s where Thommy got his bruises. And me too!” He points at his face, but he doesn’t look ashamed. If anything he shows off his battle wounds proudly, and Rhys ducks his head to hide the beginning of a fond smile that threatens to curl his lips. “So he couldn’t steal whatever they think he did. Mark can tell you too!”
“Who is Mark? You mentioned him before,” the officer coaxes, playing James like he is a child’s game.
“Oh, he’s our friend, too. He was with us but left training early because he had a date.”
“I see. How did you find yourself at the crime scene?”
“We were going to eat something before going home, you know. We’re all growing boys… I mean… God, forget I said that.” The officer laughs and shakes her head.
“It’s fine, James,” she says. And isn’t she good? Acting all sweet and coy, drawing James in but not once touching him. She is just another perfect example of why Rhys hates adults no matter how young. “So you went out to eat something after training.”
“Yes, there is a Thai place two blocks from the… gym that sells the best Yam Nua you can get without hopping on the next plane to Bangkok. You should try it sometime…” James flushes and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe you could come with me?”
“Oh, that’s really sweet of you,” she replies with a soft smile but doesn’t say yes. “Did you manage to get something to eat?”
“Nah, we were on our way, walking and you know, just having some fun when we saw the commotion. And we were curious. Who wouldn’t be? So we went closer but then someone pushed me to the ground. I kinda hit the back of my head a bit and by the time I managed to clear my head, Thommy was being handcuffed by two cops and there was this ugly as sin Bvlgari briefcase lying on the ground next to him.”
“You recognized the label?”
“Please, my sister spent last summer harping about Bvlgari’s new horrible collection, showing their new catalog left and right. Then my old man went and bought a similar one just to spite her. It was a riot.” James is snickering, not seeing the way the officer’s eyes narrow. “You should have seen her. She screeched so loud then snatched it out of our old man’s hands and actually threw it into the fireplace. I was laughing so hard.”
Rhys huffs a little breath, watching the officer. Her expression is far from sweet at the moment, the thought that people who treat things that cost probably twice as much as she earns a month like trash is probably too much for her. She seems like a pretty down to earth kind of person. Her uniform spotless and her makeup light and natural. But it’s actually playing right into their hands even if James possibly just lost his chance to bag a date with a cute, older woman.
“I see,” she says after a long moment of silence. She has visibly pulled back, the sweet and caring facade falling now that she has managed to secure all the information she needed. And that she just realized what kind of people she was dealing with. “I’m really sorry to hear that. But I’m sure everything will be cleared up soon.”
It’s actually nice of her to try to reassure James, and it’s working because James is practically beaming at her, oblivious of everything that has happened around him. His naivety will bring some serious trouble on his head one day, and Rhys can only hope that he won’t drag him and their friends down with him.
“You’re amazing,” James practically gushes, his cheeks bright red. The officer averts her eyes, her gaze catching on Rhys and he can see the sliver of regret that turns into full-blown shame when James goes on. “Would you… ah… May I ask you out on a date?”
The officer opens her mouth, her inexperience at dealing with these sorts of situations shining through when after a second of indecision she closes it and offers a weak smile. “I’m really sorry, James, but with my work being as busy as it is…”
James visibly wilts at her words, but fortunately, before he can say anything, Rhys catches sight of Thommy’s hulking figure walking through the bullpen’s double doors, his arm thrown around their new teacher’s shoulders as if they were the best of friends. Well, hasn’t Armand been a busy man, securing alliances within a single day?
Great, just what he needed.
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