Friend or Foe Page 4

  “Great, but I think you should read it, if you want, so you know I didn’t lie to you.”

  “I trust you.”

  “I know that, but you should know what I told him. It’s about Chase and Desiree.”

  She stuffed her hands in her front jeans pockets, head down. “I think he knows. Suspects.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Have you heard about that Chasing Desiree site?”

  I mirrored her, head down, hands in pockets.

  “It had those photos you showed me, but then there were all these other ones.”

  “I’m not online much, so.” I stepped closer, whispered in her ear. “Hey, Orlando had this framed photo of Desiree on his dresser. I want to make it into a poster as his return home gift. Could you get it?”

  This time she was the one who answered with a kiss. “Done.”

  18

  JUNE 1 / MONDAY AFTERNOON

  COLLIN COUNTY COURT HOUSE

  “Do you swear to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the bailiff asked, more as a statement than a question.

  “I do,” I said.

  And then no sooner did I begin to break my word. They asked me a couple different ways, but the answer came out the same: the security officer (not “the guy” because I wanted to sound respectful) had thrown the first punch after using the n-word. “The manager was in no position to see what happened. I was right there, and I knew exactly what happened. I’m certain.”

  “Then how do you explain another witness testifying differently?”

  “If you’re talking about Chase Green, that’s easy. He’s jealous of Orlando. If he lies and causes Orlando to be locked up, then he gets to take over the band and hit on Orlando’s girlfriend.”

  The lawyer didn’t seem quite what to know make of that; it seemed like news to him.

  “I go way back with Orlando, and I’ve seen him have similar confrontations with other people in authority who seemed be hassling him because he was black. And he always walked away.”

  The lawyer fumbled through his notes.

  “He’s like me. He can control himself and his temper. I mean, look at his record at school.”

  More fumbling. I didn’t mention that our band teacher had a way of smoothing over the few times Orlando did challenge someone and it led to a fight. Orlando’s well-connected parents were never above pulling a few strings to keep their son untangled from school suspensions or worse. “Look, yes, he’s my friend, but I have no reason to lie. You ask anyone about me. I’m an honest guy,” I lied yet again.

  The lawyer finally found a few more questions to ask me, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. He’d expected a slam dunk, but instead I stole the ball. From the look on the judge’s face, he seemed irritated at the attorney, so I turned to face him. “Your honor, this is just a misunderstanding. I saw one thing, Chase saw something else. I hope that you won’t lock up a good student and good guy like Orlando for this. I mean if you can’t know for sure, how you can sentence him to prison?”

  The judge said nothing—I didn’t expect him to. Just like the lawyer didn’t expect me to say what I’d said. I’d told my PO that I’d testify against Orlando. I knew I’d face some consequences for my action. But it would be worth it to see Orlando and Chase face consequences of their own.

  19

  JUNE 3 / WEDNESDAY EVENING

  REHEARSAL STUDIO AT CHASE’S HOUSE

  “Chase, I think we should take the night off from rehearsal to celebrate!” I shouted. Word had spread quickly that the most serious charges against Orlando had been dropped and he would be released from detention the next afternoon. Like me, he’d face probation and other sanctions, but he’d be out of detention. Better yet, no finding of delinquency and getting locked up in a state youth prison until he turned eighteen.

  Chase started to respond, but he was quickly overpowered by the rest of the PunkFunkers agreeing with me.

  “I mean, we killed at our last show!” I continued. “We’re in good shape. And with Orlando coming back, everything is going to be different anyway, right, Chase?” I wondered if he felt the hot needle in my tone of voice.

  Again, before Chase could respond, Ebony shouted, “Ian’s right.” Like dominos, everybody else fell into place, although Chase looked angry. I was feeling strong with Ebony on my side, so it was time to push Chase a little further.

  I continued. “I know it means that you won’t be in charge and able to choose all your songs, and that makes me so, so sorry.” I said, feigning concern. Chase took a step toward me. “You’ll be sad, but the audience happy. A win-win!”

  “Ian, what is your problem?” Chase got in my face. His cologne burned my nose.

  “You,” I whispered into his ear. I followed with a hard chest bump that knocked him backwards, but not down. His fists balled, his eyes glared, and his breathing became heavy. Go time.

  “Chase, don’t fight again!” Desiree yelled. “Ian, let it go.” Ebony and others acted as her back-up shouters.

  “I’m out!” I sprinted from the room. But once I was in Chase’s hallway, I waited to make sure no one followed me, then I walked stealthily deeper into Chase’s house.

  His parents weren’t home. I knew from rehearsing that they usually didn’t arrive back from their jobs downtown until late in the evening. Chase never had me over to the house, like he did Orlando, but I knew where his room was located. I opened the door and felt disgusted by the expensive toys his parents bought him, probably for no good reason. Gifts should be earned, I thought, so I gave him two. I took Desiree’s photo and necklace out from under my shirt and placed them under his bed.

  20

  JUNE 4 / THURSDAY EVENING

  REHEARSAL STUDIO

  “I tell you, I haven’t seen that many brothers in one place since Dad took me to see the Globetrotters at AmericanAirlines Arena!” Orlando said, getting a great laugh. The vibe was different with him front and center again. Even though we had gigs coming up Friday and Saturday, nobody, including Orlando, felt much like rehearsing on Thursday. So we sat around talking and laughing.

  “How long until your hair grows back? Parker asked. Before Orlando could answer, somebody else fired a question at him. He was like the President conducting a press conference.

  “One at a time,” Orlando said. Desiree sat by his side; no light between them.

  People kept asking questions about life inside, but I was only interested in one question for him, and I would wait until the end of the night before I asked it: why Chase and not me?

  Orlando was bummed about needing to do summer school, but other than that seemed in good spirits. Except I noticed the look he gave Chase; it wasn’t how he looked at everybody else like a friend. It was Orlando’s death glare.

  “Hey, Orlando, one second,” I said just before we stepped out the door to head home. I’d driven over with him, Desiree, and Ebony. Like old times.

  “Ian, we gotta run, make it quick,” he snapped. His change in tone made it clear he had something weighing on him.

  “Okay . . . never mind.”

  He shook his head and pulled out his phone. “I got a question for you.” He shoved the phone in my face. It was the Chasing Desiree site. “You know anything about this? I look like a fool.”

  What an odd reaction, I thought: his biggest concern in this was how he looked? “No.”

  “You think it’s true? That’s what you said in that letter you had Ebony sneak in, right?”

  I nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble, or you, but I thought you—”

  “I owe you.” He grabbed me, pulled me toward him for an old-school chest-bump. “And if I find out this is true, then I’m going to owe Chase something too—the beating of a lifetime.”

  21

  JUNE 5 / FRIDAY EVENING

  GREEN OAKS COUNTRY CLUB

  “What did you get?” Orlando asked as he helped me unpack my drum kit. We were good,
but not good enough to hire roadies. He knew I’d been to see my probation officer earlier in the day.

  “Heck of a day to spend the last day of school,” I joked and avoided a straight answer.

  “I got to check in every two weeks out in McKinney, and then they can do surprise visits as well,” he offered.

  “Man, that stinks.”

  “Better than being inside,” Orlando said. “Truth is, and don’t tell anybody this, but the guards, the other people in my mod, they were scary. Especially this psycho-banger called Slack.”

  “I got something called electronic home monitoring. I got to wear this.” I lifted my jeans to show him the bracelet. “I guess I’m lucky in that I convinced them this was my job so I can still go to gigs and rehearsal, but that’s about it. Looks like I got to say goodbye to my daredevil days and—”

  “And your Ebony nights.”

  “So you know.”

  “It’s good. Besides, I got bigger worries.” I knew what he meant, but I didn’t reassure him. Instead, we unpacked the rest of the drums in a loud silence.

  After going over the set list, which contained more Chase songs that I liked, I watched as Orlando called Desiree behind the stage to speak with him. I waited until they were out of sight and stood on the other side of the wall. The crowd out front was loud, but I could still hear Orlando’s every word.

  “Where is it? Where’s that gold chain I bought you for prom?”

  Desiree spoke, but I couldn’t hear it. “You lost it? Really?” Orlando’s voice went up an octave.

  More Desiree, but whatever she said wasn’t loud and didn’t last long. “I trusted you!” Orlando shouted, and then I heard his footsteps. I scampered to my drums and sat stone silent. When Orlando passed by, I called after him. “Hey, everything okay?” He walked toward his guitar, but then stopped.

  “Ian, I think Desiree is lying to me. I think when I was inside, she and Chase went out.”

  I pretended to think on it for a second. “Let me help,” I offered. “Trust me, and then you won’t have to think—you’ll know for sure.”

  22

  JUNE 6 / SATURDAY AFTERNOON

  CHASE GREEN’S HOUSE

  “Trust me. I got this for you. Just stay put,” I told Orlando over the phone. I rang the doorbell at Chase’s house. I’d never been to his house other than for rehearsal, so Chase was surprised when I invited myself over. I told him it was something that we needed to talk about in person, man to man.

  “Hey Ian, what’s up,” was his less than enthusiastic greeting as he opened the door.

  “Where do you want to do this?” I asked.

  He took a step back from the door. “Do what?”

  “Look, you and me Chase, it’s not good, but it seems like things aren’t so good between you and Orlando. You know why. I can’t have it messing up the band . . . I need our gigs. You going to let me in or leave me to bake in the sun?”

  He motioned for me to follow. As I stepped inside, I got my finger on the button to dial. We walked to the studio and he motioned for me to sit on a stool.

  “It’s because of that stupid Chasing Desiree site. If I find out who—”

  “Ryan.”

  “For sure?”

  I nodded.

  “When I get through with him, he will—”

  “Look, Chase, let me handle Ryan. You already got in one fight with him. I think the person you should be most concerned about is Tonya. Does she know?”

  Chase sighed. He didn’t talk about Tonya much. Sometimes she came to the shows, sometimes not. I thought it was because Chase couldn’t be bothered with anything that wasn’t all about Chase. Sure he crushed on Desiree, everybody who interacted with her did, but Chase knew that was the wrong move.

  “Maybe you need to get down on your knees and pledge your love to Tonya. If you don’t, she’s going to believe it’s true about you and Desiree, and she’ll convince Orlando. You know how he is.”

  “Maybe,” he mumbled. I pushed the app to fake the sound of a phone ringing.

  “One second, I gotta take this.” I turned my back to him, turned off the fake call, and made a real one to Orlando, as we’d planned. As soon as he picked up, I dropped the phone from my ear—mic facing out. “Telemarketer,” I told Chase. “So, anyway, what do you really think of her?”

  “Desiree?” He asked.

  I muted the phone for just a second. “No, Tonya. She still important to you?” Unmute.

  “She is everything,” he started, and he gave a convincing speech on his love for “she” and “her”—about Tonya, but to Orlando’s ears, Chase was talking about Desiree. I could almost feel the phone getting hot in my hand from Orlando’s building rage.

  “Wow,” I said, then muted the phone again. “Now, about Ebony and me,”—unmute—“well, I don’t know if Orlando knows, but if he finds out, I don’t think he’d approve.”

  “Naw, he would freak, like he did with that security guard. He’s so protective of her.” Her, to Orlando, still being Desiree.

  “So you don’t think he knows.”

  “I doubt she told him while he was inside. You haven’t told him, have you?”

  “No. So you’re saying we should keep it secret?”

  “Look, I like Orlando as much as anyone, but he can be a hothead about her. So I don’t think he knows, and everybody is better off it stays that way.”

  I nodded at Chase and ended the call.

  “Chase, thanks.” I got up off the stool and started toward the door. “I just want us to get along, even if we don’t always agree. We just need to trust each other, right?”

  “Sure thing,” he said as he walked me toward the door. Once I was outside and out of sight, I called Orlando back. “So, you heard what he thinks about Desiree, and how he thinks you don’t know. Sorry to be the one to confirm that for you, you know. I hoped it wasn’t true,” I said.

  Orlando said nothing for the longest time, probably the longest he’d been silent since getting out. Finally, he said, “I can’t let them get away with this. I’m getting in Des’s face about this.”

  “Sure. I mean, don’t do anything until you know for sure. But then what would you do?”

  “Ian, I don’t know,” Orlando said slowly like he was thinking out loud. “I want to bash Chase’s face in. But that would violate my probation, and then instead of going to Rice, I’ll go to prison.”

  “But you can’t let Chase get away with this, can you? He’s your best friend and—”

  “No, you are, Ian.” And I thought to myself, too little, too late to stop wheels in motion.

  23

  JUNE 9 / TUESDAY EVENING

  REHEARSAL STUDIO

  “Ebony, everything okay with your brother?” I asked. They had arrived late for practice, just the two of them. Orlando had made no eye contact with anyone, not even a hello. “Where’s Desiree?”

  Ebony looked at Orlando who has strapped on his guitar, his face drawn as tight as the strings. “Something’s going on between them,” she whispered. “They’ve been talking nonstop on the phone, in person, online. It’s like they’re making up for all the time they lost when he was in detention.”

  “Do you know what about?” I asked casually.

  Ebony shook her head. Her long silver earrings dangled like snakes from her lobes. “No.”

  “He knows about us.” Ebony smiled and reached out toward me. We kissed quickly. Somebody from behind us, it sounded like Tyler groaned, while Parker played a few sappy chords on his keyboard. I glanced at Chase with a quick shrug to say, so much for Ebony and me staying a secret.

  “We have three gigs next weekend and three days to get ready, so get serious!” Orlando shouted, more in the tone of some tough task-master high school coach than the benevolent band leader we knew.

  “Sorry, Orlando,” Parker said. Orlando yelled the song. I counted off. We got a few bars into it but stopped when Orlando waved his arms frantically, like a man lost at sea signaling a
rescue plane.

  “Wrong, wrong, wrong!” The last wrong was directed right at Chase. “Again!” And just like Chase had humiliated me this way when he was in charge, Orlando kept the pressure on throughout rehearsal.

  “What is your problem?” Chase finally asked.

  “Seriously?” Orlando stripped off his guitar and got in Chase’s face. “Seriously, Chase?”

  “Step back,” Chase said, but Orlando did no such thing. Instead he moved even closer.

  “I think you know what the problem is,” he said, and then Orlando turned to face all of us. “I think everybody knows what the problem is, but nobody wants to talk about it. Well, I want to talk about it.”

  “It’s not true,” Chase said hard, firm, fast.

  “You deny it?”

  Chase nodded, but didn’t back down.

  “She denied it too. So someone is lying.”

  “And who do you think,” Chase started. I felt his eyes fall on me. I slammed the bass drum hard.

  “Three days to get ready for three gigs!” I shouted. “I need this money. Focus, PunkFunkers!”

  24

  JUNE 11 / THURSDAY EVENING

  REHEARSAL STUDIO

  “Yes!” Orlando shouted as we finished our last song. Sweat dripped like rain from my forehead as Orlando pushed us through a grueling rehearsal. Despite the discord, we hadn’t lost a beat or missed a note. “Now that is what I’m talking about.”

  Orlando, Desiree, and even Chase were all smiles. One big happy family. That had never been my family. A simple truth: a person hates what they want and cannot have.

  As rehearsal finished up, I broke away to talk with Ebony. “Everything okay, Ian?” she asked. I motioned for her to join me off to the side of the room, away from the huddle of good feelings. I held out my hand and she took it in hers, fingers and lives and fates intertwined. Black and white, no gray.

  “Ebony, I just can’t take it anymore,” I said. “I love your brother like my brother, so watching him being played a fool by Desiree and Chase, it’s just sad to see somebody with honor, embarrassed.”