11

Tyler

Friday, December 2

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Buddy Holly?” Tyler greeted Raj with their usual exchange as he entered his cubicle on Friday morning.

Raj, as always, was glued to the computer screen, the light from the screen reflecting off of his retro, black, horn-rimmed glasses. “Yes, you. Every day. But I don’t have his money, and I don’t want to die like him.”

Tyler smiled, plopping down in the chair by Raj’s desk and stirred the coffee in his cup. “Were any of your guys in your department told about possible layoffs?”

Raj raised his eyebrows. “Where did you hear about layoffs?”

Tyler looked into his cup and watched the powdery fake cream form a filmy veneer on the top of his coffee. “John Cabrisi. Mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago. He said the task may not get the funding.”

Raj was a lead programmer working in a different department and task, but his office was on the same floor as Tyler’s. “I haven’t heard anything about layoffs.”

Tyler shrugged. “It’s probably not affecting your department.”

“I hope it doesn’t affect yours either.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tyler said cheerfully. “’Cause Lana and I are moving to California.”

“You’re moving to California because of a possible layoff?” Raj removed his glasses.

“No, it’s not just that. You know, we’ve been thinking about it before now. This news just kind of sped it all along.”

Raj squinted as though trying to understand Tyler’s words. “So, I still don’t get it. You don’t have a job out there, right?”

“I’ll get something, of course,” Tyler said quickly. “Or maybe I’ll finally start up that business I’ve wanted to get going. Santa Monica has a thriving business community.”

“There’s a thriving business community right here. Why not get it off the ground here before pulling up all your roots and moving thousands of miles away? What are your kids saying about this?”

Why did everyone keep asking what his kids thought? Micah and Celia were too young to have any opinions, and Katherine and Brandon were teenagers. They would both adjust. “They’ll be fine.”

Raj crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “Teenagers really need their fathers around.”

Tyler drained the rest of his coffee. He didn’t want to talk to nay-sayers about their plans. He felt good today, and he didn’t want anyone squelching his mood. “Yep. Well, I guess I’d better go do some work, Raj.”

“OK. Don’t book any plane tickets just yet. See you at lunch today?”

“Maybe.” Tyler moved toward his own cubicle. He didn’t want to commit to anything. Leave everything open—who knew what might happen? That was his new attitude and mantra.

His good mood continued throughout the day as he surfed the Internet for images of Santa Monica and the southern California coastline. He imagined once they got settled, he and Lana would take daytrips to Northern California—Sacramento, San Francisco, Sonoma County and the wine country. It felt good to “step out in faith” and act as though this was definitely going to happen, even before he had confirmation. Wasn’t that what the Bible said the faithful should do? Act as though you’ve already received what you’ve asked for? He remembered reading something like that in Scripture.

Tyler floated through his day, accomplishing his usual tasks without the usual amount of stress. Because really, what did it matter how well he wrote this report or spreadsheet? He was on his way out of here. He didn’t even bother to micromanage his underlings. After all, if they didn’t know what they were doing by now, then they shouldn’t be working here. By next week, it might be that none of them, including Tyler himself, would be working there.

He was on his fourth cup of coffee by noon, and he’d knocked out several reports, made three or four important phone calls—something he would normally dread and put off until deadlines were approaching—and he’d even started plotting a list of topics for the task members’ meeting by the end of the next week. He was ahead of the game.

Tara appeared at the edge of his cubicle. “Hey there.”

Oh, no. A terrible distraction and temptation. If he wasn’t careful in his dealings with her, he’d veer off in a wrong direction. He had to stay on the course of the current plan. Things were going too well to allow a cute little blonde to mess with his head—even if she was only eye candy. “Hi,” he said, trying not to look away from his computer.

“Headed to the gym today?”

“No, not today. Too much to do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her short red skirt and high-heeled ankle boots.

“You still don’t want to compete against me in racquetball, do you?”

“I don’t know, Tara. I only like to play when I have a chance of winning.” He laughed a little and tried to look busy while staring at the blank screen. Moments before, he’d been geared up to compose a flow chart as part of the proposed project for which they were awaiting funding. “It’s not that I don’t want to play racquetball with you. I just need to get home tonight. Lana’s out of town, and I should be there for the kids.” Mentioning his wife’s name might act as a deterrent. Sort of a Remember? I’m married maneuver. But then telling Tara that his wife was out of town probably wasn’t the smartest thing…and he’d confused the issue a couple of weeks before when he’d joined Tara for after-work drinks.

The flashing light on his office phone was an opportunity for diversion. “Oh, you know what? I’ve been waiting for a call, and this might be it.” He pointed at the phone on his desk. A ripple of disappointment crossed her face.

“Yeah, OK. Well, maybe one of these days you’ll have the courage to take me on.”

Tyler nodded and smiled, trying to make light of her double entendre as he picked up the phone. “Tyler Jones.”

“Hey, Tyler. It’s Josh.”

“Hey, Josh. What’s going on?” A sinking feeling assailed him. “I need you to come out to Runnymede. I got Brandon here with me. He got into an altercation with another student.”

“A fight?” Brandon had never been in a fight before.

“That’s my understanding.”

Brandon had just come off of three days of suspension for the sexting. This kid was just not learning his lesson. “All right. I’ll be there.”

~*~

Tyler was becoming far too familiar with Runnymede Secondary’s conference room. When he arrived, the room was already crowded. Brandon sat at one end of the table, his head down. Oliver, another one of the school’s security guards was there as well—a big, African American man, larger and more muscular than Josh, and in some ways, more intimidating.

Rebecca Hough, once more in attendance, threw Tyler a half-smile and a wave as he entered. “Hello, Mr. Jones. Here we are again.”

Tyler pulled out the empty seat next to Brandon and sat. “Yes. Here we are again.”

Brandon didn’t move his gaze from his lap. His right hand held an ice pack to the other side of his face.

“What’s going on now, Brandon?” Tyler tried to control his voice. “You haven’t had enough trouble yet?”

“Brandon had a little tussle with someone in the front parking lot,” Oliver began. “Isn’t that right, Brandon?”

The boy nodded, his mouth fixed in a sullen pout.

Oliver turned to Josh. “Happened just before lunch. Couple of girls saw it and came and got us.”

“Who was it? Who’d you get in the fight with?” Tyler asked.

Brandon sat tight-lipped as he stared at the adjacent wall.

“Who was it, Brandon? You will tell me.”

“No, I won’t,” he said in a low tone.

“Yes. You will—”

“One of the girls recognized the boy,” Josh said quickly. “She said he doesn’t go to this school.”

Josh and Oliver exchanged glances. Oliver spoke. “Judging from the footage we saw on the security cameras, Officer Wolf and I don’t think he goes here either. We’ve opened an investigation into this incident, but we think there were two males, neither of them actually attending Runnymede, who rode to the school on buses and disembarked with the kids.”

A ripple of alarm flowed through Tyler. That seemed like a breach of security.

“How did that happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” Josh said. “But we’re looking into it.”

“You guys sure have a lot of investigations going on.” Tyler was starting to think the school—and possibly even his friend’s own lax security—was to blame for Brandon’s troubles.

Josh nodded. “We’re not denying that there are some issues going on here.”

“Did this girl say anything else about who the guy was or anything?”

“No. The girl just said the guy was not in school anymore,” Oliver said.

“Not in school anymore?” Tyler was trying to make sense of it, but nothing was coming together. “Brandon, who do you know that doesn’t go to this school?”

“Nobody.”

“Obviously, that’s not true. You didn’t just fight the guy for no reason.”

Rebecca spoke, reaching toward Brandon as though trying to get his attention. “Brandon, Gianna George said—”

“Gianna George?” Tyler looked at Brandon. They knew Gianna. Her father was Vincent George—a city councilman. Her brother was Gio George—a star football player—the reason the team had gone to state that year. Gianna and Katherine used to play together.

Brandon shrugged.

“Here’s the thing,” Rebecca said, lowering her voice. “Gianna said she thought she recognized the guy, and she thinks he’s in a gang. Do you know anything about that, Brandon?”

“No,” Brandon said.

“A gang? You have gang members showing up at the school now?” Tyler leveled his words at Josh.

“There’s gang activity all over this area. And yeah, there is definitely activity in the school. It’s hard to avoid in a place of this size…and very difficult to battle.”

The school’s role aside, how did Brandon know someone in a gang? Did he not know his son at all?

“Brandon, are you in a gang?” Rebecca asked.

“Of course not,” Tyler answered for him. “Brandon’s not in a gang. He has nothing to do with any of that.” But he didn’t know for sure.

Oliver stared hard at Brandon. “Well, I can tell you that Brandon here had a pretty strong reaction when Gianna came in to the room to talk to us earlier. Brandon, I overheard you tell her not to say anything because the guy’s a member of Masters of Sin. Didn’t you say that, Brandon?”

“I don’t know,” Brandon said, looking up at Oliver suddenly, his eyes blazing with venom—reminding Tyler all too much of himself. “You’re so smart—you seem to know everything. Why do you even ask me? Why don’t you all just go to—”

Tyler shoved the chair out from under him and grabbed Brandon by the back of the neck. If he’d ever spoken like that to another adult, someone in authority, his father would have decked him. “You do not speak to anyone in this room like that. Do you understand?” He let go of Brandon’s neck and made eye contact with Rebecca.

Her mouth gaped.

“Calm down, Mr. Jones. It’s all right.”

Disbelief at his son’s insolence and his own angry reaction washed over him, and he sank back down into the chair, the anger replaced by embarrassment.

Oliver leaned across the table to address Brandon in his gruff, commanding voice. “Young man, let me tell you something. I used to be a bounty hunter. Do you know what that is?” When Brandon didn’t answer, he continued, “That means I chased down criminals who were wanted for unspeakable crimes. I’ve chased men down to Tijuana. Do you really think you’re any kind of challenge for me? ’Cause I’m telling you right now—you don’t want to tango with me. You won’t even come close to the dance-off!”

“OK, that’s enough,” Rebecca cautioned. “Everyone needs to calm down. This is not at all productive. Brandon, I’ll send you back to class, and we’ll have a talk with your dad. I’m assigning you one day of in-school suspension next week for the class skip and the fight.”

Brandon kept his head down as he left the room. Once the door slammed behind him, Tyler exhaled a shaky stream of air. “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“He’s very angry,” Rebecca observed. “Any idea why?”

Tyler shook his head. “No idea. The kid has everything. What else does he want?”

Rebecca looked tired, too. Her chin-length, mousy-brown hair seemed a little messy this morning, and there were puffy pouches under each of her steel-blue eyes. She was about his age. Did she have teenagers keeping her awake at night? “I’m referring him to the school psychologist—”

“Oh, good grief. My ex-wife has been sending him to every psychologist on the east coast for the past six months. As we see, it’s not doing him any good.”

“OK,” Rebecca said calmly. “Well, Mr. Jones, this is part of the process here. Brandon may need to be screened for special education services, and a psychological evaluation would be part of that—”

“Special ed services?” Tyler balked. “Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous.”

“The greater concern right now,” Josh jumped in, “is the possibility of Brandon being involved in a gang. Now, we have no proof of anything, but Gianna mentioned Masters of Sin…and those guys are bad news.”

“We’ve had some trouble with them recently,” Oliver added. “We’ve had the county gang task force up here about that group.”

Tyler’s head was reeling. “Well, Brandon’s not involved with them. I mean, I’ve seen some stuff about them on the news, but I just can’t believe that any thirteen-year-old kid…”

“I’ve seen nine-year-olds involved—not as members, but they run favors for them. Sometimes they get caught up in their older brothers’ stuff, you know…it happens,” Oliver said. “These guys prey on kids who are vulnerable. Socio-economic level is often a factor, but in this area, it doesn’t have to be. A kid who’s looking to belong—looking for somewhere to fit in—they’re all over that.”

Josh nodded. “And these guys are not small time. They don’t play around. Super-violent, drug traffickers, sex traffickers.”

Tyler couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but he had that weird, unstable feeling that accompanied an onslaught of emotion. He needed to get out of there. “Why would Brandon have been fighting with a guy from a gang?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” said Josh. “It seems like Brandon is protecting someone, or he’s just not ready to talk.”

“Could be a lot of reasons,” Oliver added. “Could have something to do with a girl or money or something.”

“You want to look for gang symbols,” said Josh. “Tattoos are a big identifying factor. These guys use a dragon-type symbol.”

Tyler had had enough. He stood. “I’ve got to go.”

“We’ll be in touch with you as soon as we know something more,” Rebecca said.

Tyler left the school and drove straight home. Originally, he’d planned to go back to work, but now he needed to lie down. Micah and Celia had been staying with his parents since Lana had left, and he was more thankful than ever for that. There were some days he wished he’d never had kids. And this was one of them.