Not Much Else To Do

1.

Two dirt bikes glided through the fields under an orange skyline. Quentin slid to a halt and turned to Xavier.

“Here’s good.”

Both cut their engines. Quentin took a thick branch and drove it into the ground between them.

“We’ll meet here before it gets dark,” Quentin said.

Xavier nodded.

“You’ll remember how to get here?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure no one follows us,” Xavier said.

“Everyone will be at the fair.”

“Everyone?” Xavier asked.

“Everyone,” Quentin replied.

2.

Vyron, Michigan, had a population of 1,000. The town was desolate, with miles of farmland and a downtown area with only a few shops. It was no exaggeration that there was nothing to do, and the boredom was enough to drive people insane. There was only so much hunting, fishing, mudbogging, and farming people could take. Vyron citizens were desperate to do something. Anything.

With so much unused land, the County State Fair decided to come to Vyron on a June weekend. Finally, something was happening in Vyron, and the town’s teenagers were the most excited. The moment news of the fair broke, Xavier Watson got a text message from his best friend, Quentin Baker, to come to his home to discuss “a plan.” He rode his dirt bike to the trailer yard and parked in front of the Baker family’s trailer. Quentin’s father was sitting on a white plastic chair in the front yard smoking a cigarette.

“Not too loud, okay, boy? I got a headache as it is with him,” he said between coughs.

Xavier entered the trailer. It looked worse than the last time he came a few days ago: dishes piled up in the sink and on the dining room table, papers and junk scattered around, the laundry was spilling out of the laundry room and all over the hallway. Quentin came out and quickly shuffled him into his much-neater room. Xavier sat on a beanbag while Quentin sat on his bed.

“Your dad’s such an asshole,” Xavier said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Quentin replied.

“What is it now?”

“He bitched at me to clean up his mess. Lazy ass.”

“We going to the fair?” Xavier asked.

“Did you hear about the stores downtown?”

“I know they’re all closing for the fair.”

“Exactly. I’m thinking we’ll hit as many stores as we can,” Quentin said in a low voice.

“What?”

“Rob them.”

“Why?” Xavier asked.

“It’s the only time we’ll ever have.”

“I don’t want to get caught; my mom will kill me,” Xavier said.

“None of them have security cameras. The most they’ve got are locks we can easily pick.”

“I don’t know how to pick a lock,” Xavier replied.

“I’ll teach you. It’s not too hard.”

“You sure we won’t get caught?”

“As long as you can keep your mouth shut,” Quentin said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m thinking we split the earnings. You got a place to hide your cash?”

“I’m just gonna spend it all when I get it,” Xavier said, shrugging.

“On what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t make it obvious,” Quentin said.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I hear you.”

It was a genius plan that Xavier ate up, but as he rode his dirt bike home, he wondered why he felt compelled to do something like this. Extra cash would’ve been nice, but he wasn’t desperate. He was never interested in a life of crime, either. He chalked it up to having nothing better to do.

3.

As long as Xavier lived under his mother’s roof, he was forced to go to church with her every Sunday. It was the same for Quentin too, even though Quentin’s father needed Jesus more than he did. It seemed that all of Vyron was obligated to attend church regardless of who they were. Otherwise, you’d be seen as an outcast, and with a town as small as this, that was a death sentence.

Church was nothing more than a performative act in Vyron. Quentin’s father never took any sermon to heart. He still drank, still smoked, and still treated his son like manure. No man like him would ever see the light, Xavier thought as he sat in the same pew with Quentin. The two barely listened to Pastor Daniels ramble about places no one had ever been to or things nobody had ever seen. This was what Sunday was like for the two ever since they were little. And like clockwork, the moment service was over, everyone gathered outside to stand around and talk for what seemed like hours. Xavier’s mother in particular wouldn’t leave until she got an update from every single person: who had the best recipes, who was going to the doctor, who needed cookies for a bake sale. She had an infectious energy that Xavier never had, and plenty of people had mentioned that to her, even Pastor Daniels once said within earshot:

“Your son is not as outgoing as you are. Talk to him about awakening his spiritual gift. You have a powerful gift, and you should spread it far and wide.”

Xavier was not sure what to make of that comment. He never felt the need to appease anyone but Quentin. The two connected on levels that no one else in town could understand. Besides, most of Vyron was full of older people. There were not too many teens his age. There were at most 50 other students in his high school, and Xavier didn’t care for any of them. He figured he’d let all the adults talk away and just ignore it, which served as a great distraction today. While the adults mingled over meaningless topics of conversation, Xavier and Quentin hung out in the church’s small backyard playground. In Quentin’s hands was a typical lock and a paperclip. Xavier watched every move.

“First you bend it like this, then put it through the hole and lift here. Then repeat. Here you try…” Quentin said as he gave it to Xavier. But before he could make his first attempt, Mr. Nelson walked up to the two and put his hands on their shoulders.

“Hey, pals. Up to no good?” he said with a smile. He had a habit of calling everyone younger than him “pal.”

Xavier slyly put the lock in his back pocket. “Just waiting on our parents.”

“They never shut up, do they?” He giggled. “Oh, I’m kidding. I’ve been trying to get a word in with your mother, but she’s just the life of the party here. Are you two going to the fair next week?”

They both nodded. Mrs. Nelson approached behind her husband, looking like a supermodel in her blue dress and long, wavy blonde hair. She nodded and smiled at the boys as she wrapped her arms around Mr. Nelson.

Everyone knew the Nelsons. They were the most successful people in town, and they showed it. Look no further than their red Mustang parked next to beat-up pickups and sedans in the church parking lot. Still, the Nelsons were well loved by all. They greeted everyone with a smile and volunteered around town whenever they could. Xavier was fond of Mr. Nelson, mainly because he had been checking in on his mother ever since his father’s death years ago.

“Awesome! Can’t wait.” Mr. Nelson let go of their shoulders.

Once the couple left, Quentin tapped Xavier’s arm. “Let’s go find a meeting spot tonight.”

4.

Xavier and Quentin had spent their whole lives in Vyron, and they had never seen anything like the State Fair: the flashing lights, the deep-fried cuisine, the wall of games. As much as they would’ve loved to indulge on this Saturday night, they were there to establish their alibi. The problem with Vyron was the same as any small town: you couldn’t shit without someone smelling it. If one or two locals saw the two, that was all it took to clear them.

As Xavier ate a hot dog at one of the food stalls, the Nelsons walked by. Even at a county fair, they were dressed as if it were Sunday: Mr. Nelson in a suit and tie and Mrs. Nelson in a long pink dress.

“Hey there, pal.”

Xavier gave a nod.

“Is your mother here with you?”

Xavier shook his head. “No.”

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you.” Mr. Nelson smiled and walked on.

Quentin stood across from Xavier next to the ring toss game. He looked at the darkening sky, then locked eyes with Xavier and nodded. That was the cue.

They had left their dirt bikes in the parking area and walked downtown, only a mile from the fairgrounds. The area was eerily quiet, as if the rapture Pastor Daniels had preached about finally happened. Quentin was right all along: everybody went to the fair, and that was why he was a genius. Xavier had learned more from him than from any of his classes in school. How to fish. How to ride dirt bikes. And now, how to pull off a heist. It had always been like this, and Xavier wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Mr. Nelson ran into me just now,” Xavier said.

“Hit his store first. I’ll take the comic book store.”

“Man, he doesn’t deserve that…”

“He’s got the most money,” Quentin said.

“Yeah, but he’s been all good to me and stuff.”

“He’s not going to know. No one is. Besides, bro makes bank and spends it all on himself and his bimbo bitch.”

Xavier bit his tongue, but he knew it was true. The Nelsons had the most luxurious house in Vyron while everyone else was in trailers. They probably had enough money to fix a lot of Vyron’s problems, namely the shitty roads and the lack of school supplies. Once again, Quentin was right.

The two split to opposite ends of the street. Xavier went to Nelson’s Jewelry, the only jewelry store in town. He was not sure why a small, poor town like Vyron needed a jeweler or how it was still in business. He went to the back door, leaned down, and took out a lockpick from his back pocket. After a minute or two of wiggling the pick, the door unlocked, making Xavier smile wide. If only Quentin had seen.

Xavier entered, taking each step as softly as if on a minefield. He shut the door behind him and locked it to avoid suspicion. The back room he entered was sparse, with only cleaning supplies, a desk, and another door to his right for employees only. Hardly anything to grab. The real prizes were in the main room: rings, pendants, and watches made of every rock and metal one could think of, lined up in the glass displays. Xavier went to the cash register first and wiped it clean, his hands shaking as he stuffed the cash right into his pocket. He didn’t bother counting the cash. Whether $100 or $1,000, it didn’t matter. Xavier could have left but wanted to do more for Quentin. Cash was easy to get, but a rare gem or two would really impress him. He eyed each item to find the highest-priced one. He settled on a ruby necklace with a whopping $2500 price tag. With nothing else to break the glass, he raised his fist…

Bang!

5.

It was getting too late. Quentin had been waiting at their designated spot for an hour and didn’t hear a dirt bike coming. He made dozens of calls to Xavier’s phone, and all of them went straight to voicemail. A lingering feeling grabbed Quentin by the heart, but his mind had to stay rational. Maybe he forgot the way here. Perhaps he panicked and went home. Quentin had to put his faith in Xavier as he rode his dirt bike home.

When Quentin got home, he hid his earnings in his hoodie jacket. His father was already asleep on the living room couch, so he made a beeline to his bedroom, where he lay out all the cash and rare comic books on the bed. He counted the cash: $150. Not as much as he had hoped, but the comics would go for serious money online. He still wanted to stick to his deal with Xavier to split the earnings. He pulled out his phone to shoot Xavier a text: you okay???

He lay in bed for hours. Every five minutes, he checked his phone for anything from Xavier. Not a word. Tomorrow was Sunday, and his faith was running out. Quentin prayed for the first time in years…

His prayers went unanswered. Xavier wasn’t at church the next day. Quentin fidgeted with his tie as he sat in a pew next to his father. Pastor Daniels droned on about goodwill towards others while Quentin kept glancing at the door, expecting to see his best friend enter any second. Not even Xavier’s mother arrived. Something was wrong.

After the service, everyone ritually crowded around outside to engage in small talk. The Nelsons were their regular schmoozy selves, giving handshakes and cracking jokes. Xavier must have chickened out on robbing their store. Or worse, he never got to.

“Where’s Jonah?” one man asked Mr. Nelson.

“Oh…” Mr. Nelson sighed. “His store was robbed last night.”

The crowd gasped in horror. Each cry of “How?” and “How awful!” made Quentin tense.

“He already reported it to the police, and they’re just as shocked,” Nelson continued.

“I hope they catch who did this,” Quentin lied.

A red sedan screeched as it turned into the church parking lot. Out came Mrs. Watson, Xavier’s mother. Once a proud and joyful woman, she was now in hysterics.

“Quentin! Have you seen my son? Where is he?”

“I thought he was home. What happened?”

“When did you last see him?!”

“Last night.”

Mrs. Watson let out a wail. “My baby’s missing! He’s missing! Lord Jesus, no!”

Quentin’s heart sank.

Mr. Nelson held her by the arm. “Are you sure he’s missing?”

Mrs. Watson nodded in between deep, gasping breaths.

“You need to tell the police. We’ll go together,” Mr. Nelson said.

The crowd looked at each other in silent disbelief. Two horrible events in this town, all within one night. Quentin leaned toward Mrs. Watson and placed his hand on her shoulder. This was all his doing, but he had to keep up the act.

In typical Vyron fashion, news of the break-ins and disappearance spread fast. By Sunday afternoon, everyone had their theories: that a heinous criminal was on a crime spree, that someone’s Uncle or Aunt did it, that these two events were just coincidental. But one theory made Mrs. Watson’s blood boil:

“How dare people accuse my God-fearing son of being some criminal on the run. Quit spouting that gossip and help find him,” she spat during her local news TV interview.

Within 24 hours, Vyron police and other police districts in the area launched a search party. With Vyron being mostly flatland and woods, there was little progress, but citizens still volunteered, including Quentin. While searching the woods with the rest of the search group, Quentin took a detour to the designated meeting spot. The weight of guilt got heavier with each step, as if he was stomping on his own soul. The stick he had planted was still there, but his best friend was nowhere to be found. Xavier couldn’t have gotten caught. He just panicked and ran away, Quentin deduced. He would be back by morning. But what if he didn’t? Where had he run off to? He couldn’t have been hurt. He had no enemies and nothing in his life worth dying for. Who would do such a thing in this town?

Quentin ripped the stick out of the ground and threw it away and left to rejoin the party. Mr. Nelson approached from behind to hug the young man’s side. “You’ll find him. I promise,” he said. It was a small yet comforting gesture.

After that day’s search, Quentin went home to a tidier house. The laundry was organized, the dishes were put away. Had his father finally seen the light?

“I went through the house to make sure nothing was stolen,” Quentin’s father said, eating his TV dinner on the couch.

“Why?” Quentin asked.

“Look…I get that boy’s your friend, but let’s face it, he robbed that store.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“How do you know?” Quentin’s father said.

Quentin bit his lip and exhaled. Knowing his father, every word will be used against him.

“I just know he wouldn’t,” he said before going to his room.

As he lay in bed, he pondered how his father could be so heartless, and how he ever hooked up and married his mother in the first place. No wonder she had left him and moved out of state. Quentin was serious about leaving as well. Perhaps that was what Xavier did. He found a way to escape boring Vyron, and maybe it was Quentin’s turn. But then the phantom touch of Mr. Nelson’s hand held his shoulder, as if holding Quentin back from running away to Ohio. Mr. Nelson’s words echoed into his ears: You’ll find him, I promise. He had to find his best friend, even if it meant staying in Vyron until he did. Xavier would have done the same for him.

Before Quentin went to sleep, one last question loomed in his mind: why did he want them to go out and rob stores in the first place? He chalked it up to having nothing better to do.

6.

At Vyron High School, there was one empty chair in Mrs. Ingram’s class.

Everyone in the classroom knew who it belonged to but didn’t want to discuss it, leaving its absence hanging around like a ghost. Quentin felt that spirit most as he sat closest to the chair, as he always did. After Mrs. Ingram called roll, taking a pregnant pause at Xavier’s name, a police officer with buzzed hair entered.

“Hello, I’m Officer Spike with the Vyron Police Department,” he said. “Because of recent events, I’ll be here to pull each of you aside to ask some questions. No one here is in trouble, and it will not take long. Can I see Jay Anderson, please?”

Quentin’s heart thumped the whole day. He hardly paid attention to any of his teachers’ lessons. His stomach churned every time Officer Spike walked into a classroom to call upon the next student. Quentin’s mind raced, trying to figure out what was happening. Why were the police here? Did someone here have something to do with Xavier ditching? Worse, did someone here hurt him, and that’s why the cops were involved? Xavier didn’t hang out with anyone other than Quentin, but another student might have had it out for him. Did someone see the two leave the fair, or even rob the stores?

Quentin’s throat tightened. If the cops found out about the robbery, he’d be done for. He was so anxious about his friend that he forgot about keeping up his innocent act. In math class, before he could conjure up a story, the worst had happened.

“Quentin Baker, can I see you?” Officer Spike asked.

The officer guided Quentin to the faculty lounge, where an oval table sat in the middle.

“You can sit here,” the officer pointed to the chair furthest from the door. Quentin did.

“How’s your father?”

“He’s okay.”

“We haven’t had a call from him for a while.” The officer laughed. Quentin didn’t. Some of those calls were concerning things he never did.

“Anyways, I have a few questions for you. You and Xavier were great friends, huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you two meet?”

Quentin remembered it fondly. It was during recess in elementary school, and Xavier was at the swing set. Quentin took the empty swing next to him and challenged him to see who could launch from the swing the farthest. Xavier happily accepted, and he soared through the air and landed a few inches away. When it was Quentin’s turn, he jumped higher and landed further, which made his competitor cry. When Quentin asked what was wrong, Xavier said he thought he did great but still lost. That was when Quentin explained that there was a trick to flying from a swing set; you had to swing as high as you could but launch yourself before you reached the tip of your swing. Quentin then spent the rest of recess teaching Xavier. Eventually, before the bell rang, Xavier did it: he leaped off the swing and landed in the sandbox yards away. Quentin choked up while recalling the story to the officer.

“More like brothers, huh?” Officer Spike commented.

Quentin nodded.

“So, if he were going somewhere, you would know?”

“Absolutely.”

The officer leaned back on his chair. “You two were at the fair?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you get there?”

“We rode our dirt bikes.”

“What color is his?”

“Red.”

The officer nodded. “We found it parked at the fairgrounds parking lot.”

“That’s not like him.”

“Why?”

“He takes it everywhere,” Quentin said.

The officer paused, then said, “Tell me about the last time you saw him.”

“We were there, at the fair. We hung out for a while. Then at, like, 9:30pm, or maybe a bit later, he said he wanted to go home. I wanted to stay, so I told him I’d see him tomorrow and he left.”

Quentin kept eye contact with the officer, who leaned in closer. “What do you think happened to him?” Officer Spike asked.

“I don’t know. I just hope he’s okay.”

“Do you know anyone who would hurt him?”

“No, sir.”

The officer leaned back, looked away in thought for a moment, then stood up. “Well, you’ve been a big help. I won’t keep you here too long.”

“I have a question, officer.”

“Hmm?”

“Any updates on that robbery that happened?”

“We’re still looking into it. You know anything about that?”

“People keep saying Xavier had something to do with it, but I know him. He would never. It pisses me off.”

“Yup, that’s how it is in this town. All I can say is we have to be open to every possibility. We’re just thankful it was just one store.”

“So, it was one store?” Quentin asked to confirm.

“Unless you know about another one.”

“No, sir.” Quentin wanted to smile, but he couldn’t. He fooled the cops and kept the trail off him, but more questions kept piling up, and he was wasting time. It was now his duty to find Xavier since no one else had any leads. The pit in Quentin’s stomach grew, but it was inevitable. He had to go to retrace Xavier’s steps.

7.

After school, Quentin rode his dirt bike to Nelson’s Jewelry and parked next to the green dumpster in the back. The back door had a sophisticated-looking lock, one Quentin had never seen. There was no way Xavier could have picked that. When he stepped through the front door, Mr. Nelson stood by the counter. The main room was spotless as always, with each glass case shining like mirrors.

“Hey, pal. Doing okay?”

“I guess.”

“It’s good to stay positive. So, what can I help you with? You don’t come around here often.”

“Umm, well, I was just driving by, and I wanted to thank you for helping out so much.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Mr. Nelson said, smiling.

Quentin took another glance around the room. Nothing looked out of place. It was so clean it was almost unnerving. As risky as it was, he had to investigate further.

“Could I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Sure. Go in the back, to the right.”

Quentin went to the back room, and a horrible stench hit his nose—one he had not smelled in the main room. Several cleaning supplies lined the desk and shelves, yet the smell was so nauseating that he had to lift his shirt to his mouth and nose like a mask. To his right was a door with an “Employees Only” sign, which Quentin deduced to be the bathroom. But when he opened the door, he was greeted with stairs leading to complete darkness.

Although there were only a few steps, they felt endless. It was as if he was walking down towards hell, having to wade through the abyss. At the last step, he flipped a light switch on. The single overhead light flickered, revealing not a single toilet in sight. The light cast a spotlight on a crawl space door on the ground. Its wooden paneling was uneven, and the nails were bent and sticking out. Clearly an amateur job. Curiosity gripped Quentin by the throat. He leaned next to the door and lifted it open. Inside was a deep pit with tons of garbage bags at the bottom. The odor wafted into Quentin’s face, causing him to yank off the shirt over his face, shut his eyes, and gag.

“I was waiting for you.”

Quentin’s soul leaped from his body as he quickly turned around. Mr. Nelson stood there at the base of the steps with a gun in his hand. He had a wild look in his eyes, a stare no one in Vyron had ever seen.

“You always were too smart for your own good.”

“Where’s my friend?” Quentin said between gags.

“Down there, playing with one of my friends.”

Quentin turned white.

“Since you’re involved in this now, there’s a lot I have to explain. And you will listen,” Mr. Nelson said calmly. “You will listen, and you will learn.”

8.

“I’ve always been fond of younger boys like you, but look at this town we’re in. You and I both know they don’t take too kindly to things like that. It’s been like that for fucking decades, ever since I was a kid, and I hate it. I hate that I had to marry a dumb airhead just to put up a front to everyone. I hate that I can only get hard looking at young boys and can’t fuck my wife. I hate that she cries every week about why we don’t have kids, and I have to come up with another bullshit excuse and bottling it up for decades. This bumfuck town ruined me. I thought doing everything this town expected of me would fix it, fix me. But I got more and more frustrated, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to let it all out. That’s when I met Harry.

“Harry was a kid on the run from his parents. He said his parents never wanted him to begin with. He was from the next town over, but he bummed his way to Vyron one day when I was volunteering at the church. I took a real liking to him. He was a handsome young boy, and I knew how to get to him. Flash a little money at any kid, and they’ll do anything you want. So we struck a deal. I’d pay him, clothe him, feed him, give him everything he needed to live. All he had to do was stay in this basement and satisfy my every desire. And it worked for a long while. He lived right in this room for months, and no one ever knew. See that bed right there?”

He gestured to the corner with his gun, where there was a stripped-down bed.

“He did more than sleep on that bed. The first time we made love, it was a pleasure unlike any other. I knew it was sinful, but I didn’t care. Years of frustration were finally lifted. None of you would understand. And if it weren’t for that dumb fucking friend of yours, he’d still be alive. I would’ve stayed happy. Am I not allowed that? Am I not allowed happiness?!”

His yells pierced the air as the gun in his hand shook. Quentin thought it was going to go off at any second with how much it jiggled in his hand. After taking a deep breath, Mr. Nelson continued.

“Except Harry wasn’t happy, apparently. I don’t know why. I gave him everything he wanted; all he had to do was be a good boy. But one day, he said he wanted to leave. He didn’t like our deal anymore. He didn’t like being trapped in this room with nothing to do. He said he wanted to leave; what a spoiled brat! When that shitty fair came to town, he begged me to go because he’d never been. I couldn’t have him out in public. Not with his big mouth. My life would be ruined! That was why he had to stay in the basement. We got into this huge spat, and he started running his nasty mouth at me. I slapped him to the ground, chained him to his bed, and left him there. The whole time I was at the fair with my wife, I was thinking of all the ways I was going to punish that boy. And I was riled up about it, let me tell you. It was unbearable, so I made up an excuse and came back to the store. I went straight to this basement to fuck some sense into him. But right in the middle of it, the fucker kicked me in the nuts and ran out! I chased after him, and that’s when I saw your friend trying to rob me like some thug. Think about how it looked for me: me with my pants down, a boy half-naked, and an intruder about to witness it. I couldn’t have it. I couldn’t have all of this taken away from me. So I shot him with this very gun. I didn’t want to do it. He was a decent, handsome boy, but he made a dumb mistake. You made a dumb mistake too, pal.”

“What are you talking about?” Quentin asked.

“I know you robbed Jonah’s store.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Quit the games. I got you on camera that night,” Mr. Nelson barked.

Quentin turned white.

“I’ve got hidden cameras all over this store. I only installed them to keep an eye on Harry, but look who I found wandering around a few days ago…”

Mr. Nelson pulled out his phone to show a black-and-white video from the front of the store, showing Quentin and Xavier walking the sidewalks of downtown Vyron. Mr. Nelson swiped to the next video, showing the live feed of both Quentin and him in the basement. Quentin looked up to where the camera was based on the video’s angle. The camera was so well hidden in the shadows that he couldn’t even see it.

“You can fool the rest of this hick town, but not me.” Mr. Nelson snarled as he put his phone away. “Anyway, Harry was pretty shaken up, of course, and called me all these nasty names. Killer. Murderer. I didn’t care. I acted on impulse. It’s not like I planned it. But I told him that it didn’t matter and that we had a mess to clean up. Even with my gun pointed at him, he refused. We went back and forth, back and forth, all with a dead body on the ground. So I shot him, too, not like anyone was going to come looking for him. No one gives a rat’s ass about runaways. As for the Watsons’ kid…well, they’ll get over him eventually.”

Quentin fumed as tears streamed down his face. “You sick fuck…”

“We’re both in a messy spot, but we can help each other here. I know your sins, you know mine. You’ll just have to do what I say to keep me quiet.”

“No way in hell!”

“Then I’ll give my footage to the police,” Mr. Nelson said coldly.

“That’ll put you in deep shit, too!”

“And who are they going to believe? According to these cameras, you were the last person who saw him. I can point all the evidence to you, pal, and I have ways to put you in prison for life. But I don’t want that. So here’s my deal: you don’t talk, and I won’t talk. All I ask is for you to be my new pet since I’m two boys down now.”

Remorse overcame Quentin. He collapsed to his knees and groveled at Mr. Nelson’s feet. “Just shoot me. Please.”

“I can’t do that, pal.”

“Please. This is all my fault. All of it. Just. Kill me.”

“I need you alive.”

Quentin shot up on his feet and gripped the gun, trying to wrestle it away from Mr. Nelson’s hand. The two scuffled in a tug-of-war, exchanging pushes and pulls. Quentin bit Mr. Nelson’s hand in the tussle, causing him to scream in pain and drop the gun. Quentin scooped it up and, without a moment’s hesitation, placed it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Quentin blinked as he trembled.

“There aren’t many pretty boys like you,” Mr. Nelson said, out of breath.

9.

Everyone at church that Sunday morning was silent. Mrs. Watson sat at the front pew, dressed in all black. Her eyes hadn’t been dry since the moment she walked in. Pastor Daniels led everyone in a group prayer before his sermon. Quentin bowed his head, not registering whatever empty words the pastor said: “Lord, guide your servant Xavier back home. Return him safe and sound to the family that loves him and lives to serve you…”

Quentin opened one eye and looked at the pew in front of him. Mr. Nelson sat there with his head bowed, hand-in-hand with his wife.

The after-service chat was somber. Everyone tried to skirt around recent events with typical banter, the weather or sports, but Xavier’s lack of presence lingered like a ghost. Quentin stood in the middle of the conversation, itching to get home. A firm hand on his shoulder made his body lock into place.

“Hey, pal. Ready for your first day tomorrow?” Mr. Nelson said with a smile. Quentin didn’t respond.

“My son’s got a part-time job at Nelson’s store,” Quentin’s father said to the crowd with pride.

“He’s a good boy, that’s for sure. He’s going to be such a big help,” Mr. Nelson replied as he held on to Quentin’s shoulder. The young man kept his eyes on the ground, seeing himself in that deep dark pit no one will ever see.

“I’m glad he’s doing something that’ll keep him out of trouble,” Mr. Nelson continued. “Lord knows there’s not much else to do in this town.”