Chapter 17: Do You Know Who I Am?

Tuesday March 15

Today was the primary election. Polls showed that the governor and Senator Dixon were well ahead of their challengers. Bev Mass was actually down a couple of points. A white police officer shooting a young black man with a history of mental illness was too much for the people of Cook County. If the officer had waited for the Taser unit, which had been called, this would have been a nonevent. To shoot the man sixteen times was too much, as far as I was concerned. Bev agreed and had the officer charged with first-degree murder. Unfortunately for Bev, it was a case of ‘kick them all out’ that got her smeared in the primary. I expected that by the end of the day, she would be out of a job come the end of her term.

It could also have also been the public perception of how it was all handled. A judge ordered the dash-cam recording to be released by November 25 of last year. City officials had argued for months that it couldn’t be made public until the conclusion of several investigations. The fear wasn’t that it might hinder the investigations; it was of what the public would do. There had been recent unrest in other cities when similar events had occurred. Bev had the officer charged; those charges came out on November 24.

The video showed the officer firing sixteen shots into the teen. It took him fifteen seconds to do it, and the video showed the young man was face down on the ground for thirteen of those seconds. When people saw the body jerk multiple times as the officer fired, it was game over.

There were eight other officers at the scene when he emptied his gun into the young man. The police union and his lawyers claimed that he was in mortal fear of his life, but that argument didn’t hold water. The police internal investigation disagreed with their assertion that he acted in self-defense. The number of officers present, and the call to the Taser unit, meant that they could have waited. When shot, the youth had been pacing back and forth with a knife in his hand. If he’d made a move towards the police, I could have been on board with the officer using lethal force to protect himself. I could even have understood emptying his gun into the kid—under extreme stress, that happened sometimes. This guy was just pacing; he never made that move.

It didn’t help when one of the local newspapers used the Freedom of Information Act to obtain the officer’s police record. He had at least 15 complaints filed against him while working in high-crime neighborhoods, for accusations including using racial epithets and pointing a gun at an arrestee without justification. In one instance, he and his partner had made a traffic stop. They were found to have used excessive force on a man with no prior convictions, which led to a $350,000 award for damages in a subsequent civil case.

Once the story broke, a bipartisan protest erupted. Two local ministers were upset that the officer in question was reassigned to desk duty and not fired.

Bev had been put into a no-win situation. Did she come out and condemn the officer loudly, early and often to save her job, or did she let the process work? I respected her for not offering the officer up as a sacrificial lamb for her political ambitions, even though she knew he was guilty. She acted as the professional she was. In the end, the process worked. The internal investigation found him responsible and he was charged.

My only concern had been the timing of the charges. If they’d had enough evidence before, she should have charged him earlier. I suspect that the judge had forced her hand. Charging the officer the day before the release of the video just didn’t feel right to me, even though I understood the public safety issues involved.

Today the people would get to express their feelings, and I was afraid Bev would be disappointed. From what everyone said, she was good at her job. Sometimes things happened, though. I was sure she would be fine if she lost the primary. I hoped she would work with Ms. Dixon. I could use a pit bull of an attorney the next time I got myself into trouble. The sad part was, I had a bad feeling I just might have to have her help someday.

In PE, Wolf and I were lifting together. Tim was in the same room, but working a different set of muscles. Wolf noticed me looking over at Tim, bemused.

“Did you know you and I were the only two people who kept coming to see him regularly after the initial fuss died down?” he asked.

Tim had told me that, and I shook my head slowly in disgust. I thought his teammates could’ve shown more support. I guess I was wrong.

“It meant a lot to him,” Wolf said. “He won’t say anything to you, because he doesn’t want to look like a suck-up, but he appreciated you taking the time.”

“He’s been working hard to get back on the field. Well, we’ll have to make sure he knows we have his back,” I said with a grin.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it right then, though. I was here for another reason. Connor Fletcher, the outside training consultant, was here for the next couple of days to monitor our progress. Connor came and got us.

“I need to weigh and measure you,” he said.

Jim and Johan also joined us for our cattle call. Jill and Becky were ready with clipboards and cloth tape measures. I was sent to Jill.

“Should I strip?” I asked.

I heard Becky giggle as Jill blushed, and Connor gave me a curious look. I looked at Connor.

“I didn’t know if you wanted all our measurements. I know Wolf and Jim have been exercising,” I said as I made a jacking-off motion with my right hand.

“I wondered why they had hair on their palms,” Johan said.

We all looked at him, and I broke down laughing. He was the most straitlaced kid I knew, and it was so unexpected I couldn’t help myself.

“You two keep acting like that and you won’t get invited to the baseball party Saturday night,” Jim threatened.

“Eh,” I said, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“I called Tami like you suggested. She had me call Kevin Goode. He has an apartment with Mike’s brother Luke, and Magic is across the hall. They’ve agreed to have a party for the baseball team,” Jim said.

I just shook my head. If Moose found out, we were all dead. He had a zero-tolerance policy. I would enjoy seeing my former teammates who now played football at State.

“You better be careful of who you talk to about it,” I said, as my head nodded towards the trainers.

Jim caught my meaning and looked worried as Jill and Becky smiled at him. He was screwed.

“We’ve been wanting to reorganize the storage room. If only there was a volunteer...” Jill suggested.

“Yes, I wonder who would do that for us?” Becky asked.

“I could just have David get naked,” Jim offered.

“Eh, we’ve seen that too many times,” Becky said.

“Speak for yourself,” Jill teased.

“I think we need to get back to work,” Connor said, ruining their fun.

Jim did ‘volunteer’ to help. I was surprised when Johan and Wolf stepped up and said they would, too. I just pulled down my shorts so they got a glimpse of my left butt cheek.

In three and a half months, Connor had made some serious progress with my three friends. Jim was up to 285 pounds. From looking at him, it was mostly muscle. His goal was to put on ten to fifteen more pounds before he left for Alabama this summer. He’d enrolled in summer school so he could get acclimated to college life and take a couple of classes. He could also start working out with his new teammates.

Johan was becoming a beast in the weight room. He and Jim were good for each other. The two pushed each other to gain strength, flexibility, speed and endurance. As a byproduct, they’d both gotten bigger. Johan was almost five inches shorter than Jim, but he was only ten pounds lighter at 275. That was huge for a high school lineman, unless they were pudgy or slow. Johan wasn’t as fast as Jim, but if he got into you with a block, you were done. He was a road grader.

Word had started to get out about him. Playing football only one year had hurt his recruiting. The good news was he played at Lincoln, so college scouts who had come to see other players were taking notice. I think Connor had talked to the guys at State, because they’d actually made him an offer. They’d hired a new football coach, again, and this guy had extensive NFL experience. Actually, he’d surrounded himself with coaches who had either played or coached in the NFL. Their offensive line coach was a State alum and had eight years of experience as an offensive line coach for various NFL teams.

Wolf was a different story. The NFL had been leaning towards bigger receivers that cause mismatches. Defensive backs tended to range from five-ten to six-one. Wolf was six-five and 240 pounds. If he could get faster, he had a legitimate shot at being a wide receiver in the NFL. If not, he could be a tight end and enjoy a long career. Connor had helped him lose ten pounds so far with the goal of making him faster. I lifted with him, and he was in the process of transforming his body. Wolf had lost most of his baby fat, as I called it, while still getting stronger.

Wolf had never really been pudgy, like I had been in middle school. From looking at his dad and uncles, it was in his genes. They were all big guys who carried some extra padding. Connor reasoned that in high school, Wolf didn’t need the extra weight. If he went up in competition, he could always add it if he needed to.

The other thing Connor worked with Wolf on was his jumping ability. This would give him one other advantage that would make him the go-to guy close to the end zone. If he could outjump his smaller defenders, I could toss the ball up and let him go get it. The key wasn’t just being able to jump. He had to be able to do it with a defensive back hanging on him and fighting for the ball. Connor was working on his hand strength to help him be able to hold on to a contested ball.

For me, Connor worked to help me improve in several areas. The two biggest were to increase my core strength and explosive speed. Both were important to football and baseball. Core strength was my midsection. It helped me with both throwing and batting. I could generate more power. The explosive speed was used much like a sprinter would in track. The quicker you could get up to full speed, the better. For me, that helped with fielding and base stealing in baseball.

We also were working on eye-hand coordination. I was already good at it, being the athlete that I was. Connor felt, and I agreed, that even a slight improvement could make a difference. In baseball, there were a lot of very good players. Just a couple of percentage points batting separated the ones that made it from the ones that didn’t. Baseball was filled with explosive moments, and batting was one of them. If I could see a pitch and have my hands react accordingly just a little better, I would see a difference at the plate.

He was impressed with my forearm, wrist and hand strength. I’d shown him my Bo staff and explained how it had helped me. Connor was a smart guy when it came to improving the human body, and I could see him file that away. He also approved of the weighted vest Bo Harrington had given me.

I felt that Connor had been a great addition and well worth the money the boosters had paid to have him come help us.

After Connor was done with us, I looked at Wolf and just said the word, “Tim.” Wolf got a big grin on his face and followed me over to where Tim was, lying on a bench-press seat. We ambled over to him and stood on each side, me with my water bottle and Wolf with a towel over his shoulder.

“Here he is, our workout prodigy. Someone finally understands our secret to success.”

Wolf nodded sagely.

“Yes, the girls all think he’s smoking-hot now. What did they say the other day? Now I remember: ‘‘he’s so buff!’” Wolf said, putting his hands on his cheeks and batting his eyes.

I had to smirk at that. Tim, on his most social days, was almost terminally shy around girls.

“We can’t have him stealing all our girls!”

With that, I upended my water bottle to douse him as completely as possible. Wolf and I laughed hysterically as he chased us all the way to the locker room. I was sure he would get his revenge at some point.

At lunch, Pam sat down next to me. She looked like hell.

“Don’t say anything; this is all your fault,” she complained.

Tracy sat on her other side and gave me a dirty look. I was smart enough not to fall into this trap. If I asked what was wrong, I was sure to hear about it. Instead I scooted my chair away from her, which caused Pam to give me a look that said I was about to die. I smiled and patted my lap.

“What?” Pam hissed.

“Give me your feet,” I said.

She turned her chair and put them in my lap. I took off her shoes and socks and began to massage them. You would have thought she was Duke when you gave him a belly rub. Pam let out a low moan that frankly sounded naughty. I guess I wasn’t surprised when Mrs. Comer, my English Lit teacher who had pulled lunch duty, suddenly appeared.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I found a particularly sore spot and Pam jerked, but I dug in to make it better.

“Oh,” Mrs. Comer said. “When I was pregnant, my feet hurt all the time towards the end. That, and my back.”

“What helped with your back?” Pam asked.

“I had my husband rub it with one of the analgesic gels that goes on cold and then heats up. I also had him rub my tummy with cream to help prevent stretch marks.”

“Did it help?” Pam asked.

“I think so. I know I slept better,” Mrs. Comer said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

I tried to stop to eat my lunch, but Pam complained. I felt like fool when Tracy fed me while I worked on Pam. I dared the guys to say something, but for Pam I was willing to look silly. The girls around the table looked at me like I was Prince Charming.

Close to bedtime, I got into my car and drove to the drugstore. I bought what I needed and knocked on Pam’s front door. Lacy answered.

“It’s awful late, don’t you think,” she said, blocking the doorway.

I opened my bag and showed her what I had. She just smiled and let me in. I grabbed a towel out of the linen closet and lightly knocked on Pam’s bedroom door.

“It’s open.”

I went in and she gave me a look.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I thought I might help you get to sleep,” I said, as I showed her the cream and analgesic gel.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. Get undressed and put this towel down,” I said.

I had her lay on her side as I gave her back a massage.

“Oh gawd, you have magic hands. I think that was how you got me this way to begin with,” she teased.

“I think it was you who seduced me, so you could give me good memories at the lake,” I shot back.

She suddenly sat up.

“I have to pee,” she said, and ran to her bathroom.

Angie had been constantly peeing when she was pregnant because the baby pushed against the bladder. When she came out, I went in and washed my hands so I could get the analgesic gel off of them. I came back and opened the cream. Pam read the label.

“Tummy butter? What, do you plan to baste me like a turkey?” she asked.

“This was what the lady at the store told me to get,” I said to defend myself.

I rubbed it on her tummy and sides and then smiled.

“She said I should also put it on your breasts.”

“I bet she did,” Pam said, but took off her bra.

I took extra care to make sure they wouldn’t be marred. When she began to breathe hard, I gave her my best lecherous look.

“Why can’t I refuse you?” she asked.

“Because you’re mine.”

I swear that wasn’t my intention when I came over. I also hadn’t planned to fall asleep at Pam’s house, but that’s what happened.

Wednesday March 16

When Peggy and I came back from our run, Dad showed me the paper. There was a picture of Brandon Rigby on the front page. A small smile crept onto my face. I began to read.

I stopped reading for a moment and smiled at my parents.

“It says his lawyer is Thomas Fox. He is so screwed,” I said, and then went back to reading.

Thomas Fox was the lawyer Pam’s dad had used. That could only mean that Don Rigby and Brandon’s dad must be calling the shots behind the scenes. They didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

“Mr. Rigby has agreed to return to Massachusetts to face charges,” Mr. Fox said.

Harvard University said in a statement released Tuesday that it was ‘shocked and saddened to learn that several Harvard students have reported being sexually assaulted by a former student.’

Police urge anyone with information about Mr. Rigby to come forward.

“Does Tami know?” I asked Mom.

“She and Alan were contacted by Detective Kitchens yesterday. They will both be giving statements today. The Cambridge police are sending someone to talk to them.”

I read the election results, and the governor and Senator Dixon had won easily. Bev Mass had lost in a close one. After breakfast, on the ride to school, I called Tami.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“It became real yesterday. I’m coming home to talk to a detective and give him my statement today.”

“Do you want to talk?” I asked.

“Let me see how today goes. If I need to talk, I’ll send you a text,” she assured me.

Today was the big test for Alan’s lunch-buddy app. He’d set me up to be a host, and I’d done that first thing this morning. As I walked to lunch, I checked to see if anyone had signed up. I smiled when I saw it was the regular crowd.

Alan was really good at this stuff. I would never have guessed a high school kid had put this together. I could see that he’d actually listened to Stacy Clute, because it in fact looked nice. When you opened the app, our Lincoln High Bulldog logo came up. Alan had figured out how to have students sign up via Facebook or do it manually. He used Facebook so he could steal their picture.

When I’d gone into the app to host a table, it showed me a layout of our lunchroom, and there’d only been one available table that was green. I tapped on that table and confirmed I would host it. The table now showed my picture in one of the seats with my name and the title ‘Host’ under it.

When we were getting dressed after PE, I showed Wolf how to use it. When we logged him in, Alan had already claimed a seat, as had Zoe, Brook and Cassidy. I wondered what Alan would do if people didn’t sit in their assigned seats. He was just OCD enough to throw a fit.

At lunch, he sat next to me and made me check off everyone as they arrived. If someone didn’t show up, the host could remove them and it would open up the seat. He had Stacy Clute sign up, but she ate at her normal table. Gina had been the odd man out, so I deleted Stacy. Gina was on the wait list, her picture popped into the slot, and it sent her a text. She confirmed and I checked her off.

I found it amusing that Alan had enlisted his ex-girlfriends to help him. He wasn’t amused when I pointed out that little factoid to the table. What are best friends for?

My plan had been to stay out of the whole Brandon situation. That plan went out the window when I was called to the office during my last period. When I got there, I found Detective Kitchens with another man. One look told me he was also a police detective.

“We were wondering if we could talk to you,” Detective Kitchens said.

“Have I done something?” I asked.

“I don’t know, have you?” Detective Kitchens replied with a straight face.

“Maybe.”

The other detective, who hadn’t been introduced, was suddenly interested.

“Maybe we’ll talk about it later. This is Detective Dale of the Cambridge Police Department. He wanted to get a better idea of the whole story. I called Ms. Dixon, and she said she would listen in,” he said, answering one of my concerns.

I had them follow me to the Field House where I told Moose that I would be late for practice, and he let us use one of the conference rooms. I called Ms. Dixon and put her on speakerphone.

“Detective Kitchens gave me a brief outline as to why you want to talk to my client. Before we get started, could you explain the intent of the interview?” Ms. Dixon asked.

“I want to get a timeline of his involvement in case we need it for the prosecution,” Detective Dale answered. “We’re sure that once this gets started, Mr. Rigby’s lawyers will try to tear down the foundation of the case any way they can.”

“Okay, but I want you to remember that David is not the focus of this investigation and that he is voluntarily helping here. If I get a whiff of ill intent, I’ll pull the plug on this.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I then recounted what I’d told Detective Kitchens. The only sticking point was who had I hired to investigate Brandon and how they’d gotten the information. Ms. Dixon shut that down, for now. When I talked to her after the call, she told me she hoped they had enough other things to worry about.

She gave me the heads-up that Detective Kitchens had told her the journals that were found were a gold mine. He wouldn’t tell her what was in them, but she’d been told that Brandon was in serious trouble if everything proved to be true.

We both hoped that would be the last we would see of Detective Dale.

Halfway through baseball practice, I saw Alan. Cassidy had made him start going to her sixty minutes of hell sessions. I was impressed he’d stuck it out, and I could tell he was losing weight. I was practicing batting while three other players watched. Moose asked me to explain what I did at bat and would send a handful of guys to watch each day. When I was done, I took a moment to talk to Alan.

“How’d it go today?” I asked.

“Fine. Tami wants to grab dinner before she goes back. Can you skip the dojo?” he asked.

“I need to tell Cassidy, but sure.”

“I’ll tell Cassidy,” Alan said.

“Dawson!” Moose bellowed.

“Gotta go,” I said, and went back to practice.

I was surprised when we didn’t end up at Monical’s. Tami wanted to go to the Chinese place by the park. Since I’d been introduced to more types of Chinese cuisine when I was in New York, I used that knowledge to order for my friends. We started out with mu shiu pork as the appetizer. Alan loved fajitas, so I described it as Chinese fajitas to get him to stop whining. He just wanted to get some egg rolls. I think the poor boy had been to too many Chinese buffets.

“The interview went well. There wasn’t much I could tell them, since Brandon drugged me,” Tami said.

Alan stiffened up. I think he was afraid how I might react to a discussion of that night. I’d made it clear I didn’t want to talk about it with him. I think Tami purposefully had brought it up so I could get past it. I felt my stomach tighten at the memory of seeing the two of them in bed together. Rationally, I knew it had been staged, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it. I remembered Tami admitted that she’d kissed Alan. I knew they weren’t in their right minds and I should cut them some slack, but the old alpha male in me didn’t seem to want to let it go.

“It still pisses you off,” Tami stated.

I looked at both of them and nodded. She could always read me. Alan looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

“David, if I could do it over again...” he began.

“I know, Alan. I understand what happened, and I know that neither of you intended to hurt me. I also understand that I have no right to be upset. Tami made it clear she wanted to explore without me.”

There it was. The root of everything. The feelings of betrayal almost overwhelmed me. It was as if I were right back at my apartment after she walked out of my life when I gave her the promise ring. I thought I’d gotten past all this, but obviously not.

“David...” Tami said, but I held up my hand.

“Give me a minute,” I warned.

They both knew me. I would flash angrily, but if you gave me time, I calmed down quickly. I just needed to work it out.

So much had happened since that day. I’d become involved with three wonderful girls in Halle, Brook and Zoe. Pam was having our baby, and Tracy had become a good friend. Jim, Tim, Wolf and Yuri had become my best guy friends. Alan had been around, and we had come to an uneasy truce. I’d gotten to the point that when I saw him, I didn’t immediately think of that night.

I’d come to grips with the fact that Tami wasn’t destined to be my one and only. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What did I really want? The simple answer was that I missed my best friends. The problem was that Tami had hurt me over and over again. It had started in middle school when she told me she never wanted to see me again. I understood I had been a little dick, and my drinking and taking drugs were the cause, but it still hurt when she went the tough-love route on me.

I mentally shook myself. I didn’t need to go down that rabbit hole again. She and I had worked through all this last summer. I pushed all the old hurts down and reminded myself that we’d both been to blame for much of it.

Six months had passed since I’d made my final gesture to get us together. Enough time had gone by that I could look back at it with a fresh set of eyes. If I were honest, Tami had been immature and selfish, as far as I was concerned. God only knows what teenager wasn’t, sometimes. The thing was, in many ways she was right. We weren’t ready for a serious relationship. How she’d gone about it, though, had guaranteed that we would never have one.

That thought made me sad, but it freed me. I felt the hurt and anger drain from my body. I looked up at Tami and could see concern on her face. She knew that I’d come to a decision, and for once, she had no idea what that was.

“So, Alan’s a good kisser,” I said with a straight face.

“Fuck me,” Alan moaned, as his face went bright red.

Tami blinked a couple of times to process what I just said, and then smiled.

“You’re so mean,” she said, which made me laugh.

Alan looked at me and then at Tami, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“Dick,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?” I asked with a mock scowl.

“I didn’t stutter,” Alan shot back.

That made me laugh. When I finally stopped, I looked at them both with a smile on my face.

“Friends?” I asked.

Tami shook her head.

“No, best friends,” she amended.

“Okay,” I said as I nodded.

“You’re still a dick,” Alan said, but I could see a smile creep onto his face.

We all relaxed and just acted like we’d been friends forever, which we in essence had been.

“Jim called me,” Tami said.

“I don’t think I want to know about this,” I said.

“About what?” Alan asked.

“Jim wants some payback on Mike,” Tami explained. “He wants me to invite Harper to a party after your game.”

“And Jim thinks that Mike will show up because the party’s at his brother’s apartment,” I said.

“What party?” Alan asked.

I let Tami fill him in. My curiosity got the best of me.

“What does Jim plan to do?” I asked.

“Kevin plans to serve Jell-O shots made with Everclear. He calls them ‘panty droppers.’ Jim’s asked him to make some with no alcohol. You know Mike; once he’s had a few, he gets handsy,” Tami said.

I raised an eyebrow to ask how she knew that. She just ignored me. I guess it wasn’t really my business. That didn’t mean that Mike wouldn’t die, though.

“The plan is to let him get drunk and act the fool. Missy and Lisa have volunteered to help him get falling-down drunk. Jim says that Kevin told him these Jell-O shots will put you on your ass if you’re not careful. When Mike passes out, they plan to strip him off and draw with magic markers all over his body.”

I had an evil idea. Mike had sent me a picture of Mona after he’d had sex with her.

“Maybe we could have Ray recreate Mike’s picture of Mona.”