Tuesday
September 4, 2018

“We need a plan,” is the first thing Rhys says when he and Thommy reach his condo.

“Is this about Mark?”

“You’ve seen him, too.”

“You’re worried. No,” Thommy pauses, grabbing Rhys’ neck and bushes his thumb under his chin, forcing him to look at him. There is nowhere to hide from those almost black eyes. “You’re blaming yourself.”

“You would, too, if you were in my shoes.” It’s instinct to attack even his best friend when cornered. Rhys doesn’t deal well with being backed into a corner with no escape routes to fall back onto should the need arise. He could kick Thommy’s ass. Kick him out of his home. Tell him to shut up.

He doesn’t.

Thommy keeps staring down at him, searching for something for what feels like way too long before he yanks Rhys against his chest and squeezes him hard. “You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m right. You know it. After Mulligan, after the whole shit storm last year, I should have been here. Mark was counting on me and I abandoned him,” Rhys says, unable to stop himself. He hides his face in Thommy’s wide chest, the almost hard fabric of his shirt scratchy against his forehead. “How can I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re a good friend. And Mark knows this.”

“Really?” Rhys scoffs, remembering Mark’s disgusted face and his words yesterday. “Sure’s felt like it.”

“No one put a gun to the asshole’s head to sniff up some coke,” Thommy retorts, acidic. “Or whatever he’s stuffing himself with.”

“But can you blame him? That animal…” Rhys can’t finish the sentence and he feels disgustingly pathetic. “That perverted scum spent seven months blackmailing Mark, threatening him with exposure to his parents—”

“I was there, too. You don’t need to tell me what happened.”

“Still…”

“No, Rhys. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was Mulligan.”

“I know. I know but I still can’t let it go. Because we are supposed to be his friends. Yes, he’s a giant dick. He is selfish and bitchy on his good days, but still our friend.”

“And we were just fucking brats. Children who didn’t understand shit. And if it wasn’t for you who knows what would have happened. So stop with the self-flagellation already and start using that giant brain of yours.”

It takes a few minutes to compose himself, but Thommy is right. Wallowing in regret and shame over the past won’t help Mark get out of whatever shit hole he managed to fall into. Which means Rhys needs to get his brain into gear and think with the same detachment he analyzes humans in general. They can do this. And do it before anyone gets wind of Mark’s supposed problem.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath and steps back from Thommy to sit down on his couch. “What do we know so far?”

“Mark has been mingling with some real skeezy looking guys this past month but it had to start before that because they seemed awfully close when I first saw them,” Thommy says, sitting down as well. “Question is, are they feeding Mark drugs, or is it something else?”

“No, the question is how we get him out.”

“Talking to him is out, I hope you know. He tried to take a swing at me the one time I tried to bring the topic up.”

“Not surprising.”

“Thanks.” Rhys snorts and leans against Thommy’s side, earning a long-suffering sigh and a large, heavily muscled arm around his shoulders. “If only the others saw you now.”

“As if I’d let them,” Rhys says with an eye roll. “But really, joking aside, if Mark is dabbling in illegal stuff he wouldn’t talk about it. Especially not with us.”

“Couldn’t not try, y’ know.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but that sure won’t help saving Mark’s punk ass if there is something to save him from.” Thommy frowns. “Wait a second. I know where this is heading.”

“Thommy—”

“Don’t Thommy me, Martinez. I know you’re loyal to a fault but if you think that we’re gonna sneak around—”

“Oh as if it wasn’t yesterday that your own sorry ass was arrested,” Rhys sniped, frigid with mounting fury.

“It totally wasn’t my fault. Just because I had a few bruises and someone dropped that fugly briefcase in my lap… Useless fuckers. But it’s not the same.”

“It’s not because this time it’s much more serious.”

“Yeah, so why not tell someone?”

“And who do you think we should tell?”

Thommy scowls but stays silent. They can rely on no one because no one would help them the way they should. No one would care about Mark or how a possible scandal would affect him. No, they would hear the word drugs and trouble and they would barge in, punish Mark ‘for his own good’ then go and pat themselves on the shoulder for doing the right thing. Disgusting. That’s what it is and not right. After all, it was what they did last time too by hushing up the crime done against Mark and several other students.

“Thought so.”

“Yeah, awesome. So what? We’re gonna put on some costumes and skulk around following Mark whenever he leaves the house?”

As much as he thinks that following Mark could be useful, Rhys knows that it’s an impossible plan without knowing where Mark is at a given time of the day. No, what they need is something simpler and easier. Like getting into Mark’s phone to see who he is talking to. And about what.

“Nice, you’re friends with hackers now?” Thommy scoffs when Rhys tells him his idea.

“I bet with a little bit of googling we could figure out how to do it on our own.”

“Because Google knows the answer to everything.”

“Unless you can access the darknet and have enough money on you to hire a real hacker?”

“The money is not the problem.”

“Yeah, your father is.”

“See you know it too. If the old bastard finds out what I’ve been up to…” He clears his throat and looks away, uncomfortable. “It won’t be pretty.”

They descend into silence once again, but this time it’s not oppressive. Rhys decides to just bask in his best friend’s warmth and the always ready comfort he provides. Rhys takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, content just for the moment. In a few minutes, he will have to get up and back to reality.

In the end, it’s actually Thommy who shatters their second of peace. “Why don’t we call Dim-A?”

Rhys’ jaw clenches on instinct, his teeth grinding at the thought of their English teacher. Or more like his teeth starts grinding because there is much less animosity he feels than he should. He shakes his head ad straightens up, pushing away from his source of warmth.

“No.” It’s short and final. He refuses to work with that guy. That teacher. Not even for Mark’s sake, not when Mark would never accept it.

“Rhys…”

“We’ll do it on our own. Like always.”

“You’re such a stubborn asshole sometimes.”

“Takes one to know one, I hear.”

“Well, fuck you.”

“Not my type.”

“No one is your fucking type.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Welcome to the real world.”

“Whatever. Can’t help it that humans are useless and bore me to death.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Good. Now let’s figure this hacking thing out.”

“I’ll order some food. Thai? Greek? Indian?”

“A pizza would be okay.”

“Sure.” Rhys picks up his laptop from the coffee table where he left it while Thommy pulls out his phone to order their food. He doesn’t ask what kind of pizza Rhys wants, having known his order for years.