Unspoken(103)
Davidson shook his head and shoved the list into his pocket.
“The second thing is that you forfeit the rest of your matches and you apply for a decertification for the club.”
“No way, man, this is my senior year,” Davidson protested.
“Hey, your funeral. Don’t know how you’ll play when you have the drug investigation hanging over your head, but I guess you’ll deal.”
“You’re a fucking sociopath,” Davidson snarled at me.
“Now I know you never paid attention in any of your classes. Sociopaths don’t feel anything. I’m feeling a lot right now. Glee. Satisfaction. Also anger. Don’t step wrong, or I’ll punch you until every bone in your face is broken.”
“What about Ryan, here?” Davidson shook his finger. “He’s going to be taken down by this, too.”
“Nah, see, Renaissance Man is beloved by a number of factions here at Central. The sport factions, the GLBTQ groups, the Greek system. I hear he’s being fought over by the sororities as to who gets to have him as a little brother.”
Ryan smiled angelically as we both looked at him.
“Ryan’s going to become the face of the lacrosse club. He will publicly mourn the loss of the club, but acknowledge that it was something that was necessary. Next year, the club charter will be reapplied for, by Ryan and a select few surviving members deemed by Ryan to not be involved in whatever disgusting shit you guys carried out during your reign.”
“Why the fuss? AnnMarie had her say.” Davidson had turned petulant now. His quicksilver changes of emotion were almost comical but showed what little spine he had.
“She didn’t have a ‘say,’ she was doing some much-needed truth-telling. I’m not doing this for AM,” I lied. Of course it was for her, but I wasn’t putting her in the crosshairs. “I didn’t put myself in harm’s way for four years in Afghanistan so I could come home and watch a bunch of assclowns terrorize an entire campus of women. This is a fucking mess, and I don’t want my years at Central to be tainted by it. You with me?”
Davidson nodded. “What about Howard?”
“You leave him to me. You’ve got a shitload of stuff to do before five P.M. tomorrow.”
“Or what?”
“Or I guess you’ll see how you like seeing your name in the New York Times connected with a date-rape drug. Bet that looks good on the old résumé.”
With that, I signaled for Ryan and we left.
“What’s your plan for Howard?” Ryan asked quietly once we were outside.
“Just a military prank.” I squeezed Ryan’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go to AM and Ellie’s apartment. Make sure they stay inside tonight. Rent some movies. I’ll be by about ten.”
At 9 P.M., I showed up at Karl’s, a dive bar with about ten tables and cockroaches as dinner companions. People drank heavily for anesthetization both inside and out. Gray was sitting with Howard at one table in the corner. I pulled down my skull cap and flipped up my collar. No need to be too obvious. I sauntered over and sat down right next to Howard, stretching my arm across the back of Howard’s chair.
“Having a bad day?”
He was gone. Blitzed. I could barely make out his words between the slurring and spitting. “You’re behind this. I know you are, fucking asshole.”
“Where’re your friends?” I looked pointedly at the empty tables and chairs.
Gray looked at me, a twinkle in his eye, and answered for Howard. “We’re getting acquainted. This guy says that he’s been taken advantage of by some jackass with an ax to grind. You the jackass?”
I nodded. Gray was having far too much fun tonight.
“I’m here to make it up to you, though, Howard. We’re going to have some fun tonight.” But before we could do anything, his head dropped listlessly on the table and drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth.
“This is disgusting,” I told Gray. “You were supposed to watch him.”
Gray shrugged. “I was, but I couldn’t keep him from drinking without sitting on him, and I figured that defeated the purpose of me being the one to babysit.”
“Fuck, okay, let me think.” I drummed my fingers on the table. I needed Noah, the plotter, because my plans all hinged on threatening Clay with bodily harm until he left. Hard to threaten a guy who was passed out face down in his own drool. Finally, I threw up my hands in disgust. “I can’t do anything to him while he’s drunk. It would make me no better than he is.”
“Principles, schminciples,” Gray scoffed.
“Don’t encourage me,” I said. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I have to be able to look AM in the face tonight. Let’s just take the asshat home. I’ll corner him tomorrow when he’s hungover but sober.”