Ren

We had a cat in the neighborhood, an orange tabby. Skinny little thing, looked like a breeze might knock her over. I named her Feisty.

I didn’t care much for animals growing up, but my mother did. There were very few moments of pure joy on her face, and they often appeared when she was playing with the little creatures.

It didn’t matter whether they were domesticated or feral; they flocked to her in waves. Like they knew she was the only one among us who would bend down, pet them, and show them love.

They say the descent into madness is slow, but there were signs. My mother was unhappy. I could see it on her face. Time is a marvelous thing... At fourteen, my days felt stretched, moments lingering just a little longer. Yet once time flew by, the memories blurred, like they belonged to a lifetime long gone.

I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wanted her to smile again. So I saved on the side, dedicating my allowance to buying cat litter. Every time I left the house, I’d take the smelly cat food with me. It didn’t take long for the neighborhood cats to catch on.

They followed me into the building, meowing until I opened the door. My mother smiled. Not a full smile, not the kind that reached her eyes. It was more like muscle memory. She recognized that the scene in front of her was supposed to bring her joy, so her lips would quirk, but the feeling behind it was hollow.

We started naming them. Silly little names that changed so often we’d forget. There was Fattie, an energetic orange cat: skinny but always the first to the bowl, hijacking the food and keeping the others away. There was Brownie, and Stinky, and Fluffy. And then there was Feisty.

Feisty was a cautious little stinker. The dirtiest of the bunch and the most violent. Earning Feisty’s trust wasn’t easy, but on those rare occasions — after she was well-fed — Feisty would roll onto her back and allow one single pet. It was the cutest, stinkiest thing.

That’s who A.J. reminds me of.

He’s sitting in the front seat by the driver, earphones plugged into an iPod, head resting against the window. By my side, Levi is breathing heavily, like he’s on the verge of snapping.

He looks at me and shakes his head. “Unbelievable. He’s fucking unbelievable.”

Levi licks his lips, pushing his hair out of his face. His skin looks stretched too tight. He keeps going. “For once, I want him to not drag me into his shit. Just one day of peace. Is that too much to ask for?”

Technically, Levi involved himself in the fight. No one dragged him into it. But I keep that thought to myself.

He leans closer, voice low near my ear. “You know the worst part? This’ll all get spun like it’s my fault somehow. Just wait and see.”

A.J.’s back stiffens, but he doesn’t turn around.

...----------------...

We arrive at the James mansion shortly after. Donald James and two other men stand by the front door, cigarettes dangling from their lips. Levi sighs next to me, but it’s A.J. who speaks first.

“Don’t get out of the car.”

Levi rolls his eyes and steps out anyway. I stay rooted to my spot. A.J. follows him out.

“My assistant tells me you got into a bit of trouble today,” Donnie James starts.

“Why are you here?” Adrian asks.

“Why am I in my own damn house?” Donald repeats, eyebrow raised.

“Hello, Father,” Levi interjects. “Uncle Steve, Uncle Ray,” he nods toward the men.

“Oh, look at you. You’ve grown a whole inch taller since the last time I saw you,” Uncle Ray laughs, patting Levi’s shoulder.

“They grow fast,” Donald says. “Except for this one,” he adds, looking at A.J. “He intends to give me headaches forever.”

The three men chuckle. Donald glances toward the car and cocks an eyebrow. “Do you plan on steaming in the car? Why the hell are you still in there?”

Ren gets out slowly and nods his head. “Hello, uncles,” he says, swallowing hard.

Uncle Steve walks over and grabs his face, inspecting him. “This is the boy?” he asks, and Donnie gives a knowing smile. Steve releases Ren’s face, pats his shoulder instead, and says, “Fine young man.”

“Well then, you two, go on now,” Donnie says. “We’ll discuss your misdemeanor later tonight.”

“What about Ren?” A.J. asks.

“Ren will be coming with me to check on his mother,” Donnie says, already signaling the driver and turning away to end the conversation.

“I’ll come too,” A.J. says.

“It isn’t appropriate for you to join,” Donald replies dryly. “And you should count yourself lucky you’re not grounded for what you did today.”

“What did I do?” A.J. asks, his father’s temple visibly tensing. A.J. presses on. “Did your assistant tell you?”

“Get inside,” Donnie orders, and Levi — ever the obedient one — moves to grab his brother, trying to pull him into the house.

A.J. shoves him off.

He steps in front of Ren, blocking him from view. “You’re not taking him anywhere,” A.J. says, voice low and steady.

Donald James takes the stairs two at a time and walks toward his son, leaning down until he’s at eye level with A.J. He enunciates each word, “Get out of the way before I lose my temper with you.”

A.J. doesn’t budge. His father frowns at Ren, ordering, “Get back in the car.” The two men head toward another parked jeep and climb in without a word.

Ren notices A.J. trembling slightly, but he still won’t move. Donald grabs him by the hair and shoves him aside, hard, before getting into the backseat of the car. Ren doesn’t need a rocket scientist to tell him they aren’t going to see his mother in the hospital.

Through the window, he watches A.J. push himself off the gravel, dusting himself off. Levi rushes to his brother, and their words are lost as the cars pull away.

...----------------...

The car drove for thirty minutes out of town. The scenery outside the window shifted from fenced mansions to haphazardly built buildings, until the car finally turned down a lonesome road shaded by trees, ending at a cul-de-sac.

The men got out of their cars, leaving the drivers behind. Donald James and Ren walked solemnly with the others toward the Men’s Country Club. It was an old establishment that reeked of wealth as much as it did of the faint smell of cigar smoke. Frankincense burned to mask the odor, but the stench still made Ren want to gag.

A butler, dressed in a finely pressed suit and black apron with a rose tucked into his shirt pocket, welcomed them. He guided them through dimly lit corridors to a VIP section, opening the door and bowing as they entered.

Two men sat inside the oval room. The one facing the door perked up at their arrival, while the other glanced at them solemnly. Ren startled at the sight of his father.

“Care to join me for a round of chess?” Seth Vera said to Donnie James.

The other man rose from the velvet chair, and Donnie took his place. He walked to the bar, Uncle Steve and Ray following him. Ren remained rooted to the ground.

His father cleared the board, then took one white and one black piece, hiding them behind his back, shuffling them from hand to hand. He held his fists out to Ren, smiling. “Pick one.”

Ren chose the left hand. Seth opened his palm to reveal a black piece.

“Ah, Donnie, first move’s yours,” Seth said, turning back to set the pieces on the board.

Donnie made his move, but Ren wasn’t watching the game. His eyes stayed on his father’s face, the hardened lines now etched into his skin, his hair thinning. He looked fragile under the golden glow of the chandelier.

“You don’t look so good, Seth,” Donnie said.

Seth ran a finger absently along the chessboard instead of moving a piece. He looked up at Donnie and smiled a bitter, resigned smile. It made Ren’s stomach twist.

“Come here, boy,” Uncle Ray called.

Ren walked to the bar, where the men sat sipping whiskey and smoking Cuban cigars. Uncle Ray handed him two glasses of whiskey. He took them to the men at the chessboard.

Donnie and Seth exchanged a few moves. Ren committed the polished squares of dark walnut and pale ivory to memory. He noticed Donnie’s eyes flicking across the board, calculating. His father, on the other hand, played intuitively the way he did everything in life.

Donnie leaned back, sipping his drink. Seth downed his in one go, handing the empty glass back to Ren for a refill. When Ren took the glass, his fingers brushed his father’s, lingering just a second too long as though he could convey a message, a desperate plea. His father didn’t notice.

“Having trouble there?” Seth asked, voice light.

Donnie tilted his head. “Considering my options,” he answered.

Ren trudged back to the bar, head hanging low. Uncle Steve laughed.

“Cheer up, boy. We’re just having a little bit of fun.”

The man who’d been playing earlier with his father cackled too.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a bit of fun,” he said, winking at Ren as he pulled a sachet from his pocket, shaking white powder into the whiskey glass. He handed it back to Ren.

Ren froze, unable to move, unable to escape. The man found this even funnier. He left Ren standing stunned, and took the glass over to Seth.

“Don’t drink that,” Ren pleaded urgently. “He put something in it.”

Seth glanced at the man, and they shared a humorless chuckle. Seth took a long gulp anyway. His fingers, trembling slightly, moved the queen across the board.

“Checkmate in three, Donnie. Or would you rather resign?”

Donnie studied the board with disinterest. “You always play dirty, Seth.”

“Dirty?” Seth echoed. “Didn’t I learn that from you?”

Donnie’s eyes narrowed. Ren could see it; the vulnerability in Seth. It was written all over his face.

“For someone who loves to bluff,” Donnie mused, “don’t you think you ought to master the art?”

“Bluffing?” Seth repeated, voice quieter now.

Donnie smiled that same magnanimous smile Ren recognized all too well. He reached across the board and moved his knight.

“Check.”

Seth’s breathing hitched. He drained the rest of his whiskey, then started laughing a wild, broken sound.

Donnie humored him, his own laugh low and bleak. “And if I move my rook here…” he slid the piece across the board, slow and deliberate, “…that’s checkmate for you, Seth.”

The room erupted with laughter, thick and resounding. It couldn’t drown out the stinging in Ren’s ears. He felt it deep in his chest. His father just lost more than a game of chess.

...----------------...

Author's Note: A.J. is too young and incapable right now but worry not he will learn and grow along the way.

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