The Lost Boys
Shane
“Stop daydreaming O’Brien.”
I turned my head from the textbook I was reading about supply and demand to look at Jimmy from where he lay on the twin bed next to mine. I’d found the Economics and a few other business texts thrown in a dumpster outside the abandoned building where we lived for the moment and picked them up, wanting to learn everything I could.
Jimmy and I ran away from our Foster home when I was fifteen and he was thirteen because the old man liked to take his belt to us whenever we didn’t immediately obey him. Now two years later, we were still living in an abandoned motel just outside the City where we could at least lock the door of our room and where the owner apparently forgot to lock off the water because the showers and pipes worked just fine. That made the place irresistible to druggies and hookers but as long as they stayed out of our business, we stayed out of theirs.
I snapped the book closed and faced the boy who was more like my brother. It didn’t matter that his skin was a darker shade than mine or that I knew that his black eyes held dark secrets that he had nightmares about nearly every night. It was because of the life we’d shared together the last few years. Other kids might have gone their own way by now, but Jimmy and I, we stuck together. We were all each other had.
“I was just studying.” I told him used to his teasing, “You should try it sometime.”
Jimmy made a face at me and continued to throw a worn baseball up in the air and catch it again.
“I don’t see what’s the point.” he muttered.
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the knees of my nearly thread bare jeans.
“The point is in order to become someone in this world, you need to have the knowledge to navigate it and you don’t want to go back to school.”
He pointed to the books sitting on the desk in front of my bed.
“Neither do you.” he shot back.
I shrugged and leaned back to drag a hand through my dirty blonde hair that was shaggy on top.
“I’m still going to get my GED.” I replied firmly, “I don’t intend on living in this shit hole forever.”
There was a loud knock on the door and I motioned for Jimmy to stay where he was while I went to answer it.
I looked through the peephole and let out an annoyed breath when I saw Riggs standing on the other side with two of his goons. Riggs was a bully and would sometimes shake down those living in the rooms for rent as if he owned this building. The only reason he never did that to us is because sometimes we did work for him to earn some cash. Nothing big, drop off some packages for him here and there in exchange for money, that sort of thing. But lately, he’d been trying to get us to do more for him. Break into houses, stores. Nothing I wanted to be a part of if I needed to stay out of jail.
He must have seen my bike outside. A broken down Honda Wave Alpha it had taken me almost six months to get working. I knew if I didn’t answer the door, he would do something stupid like damage my bike. He knew I was obsessed with that thing.
I opened the door, leaving my body blocking their view of Jimmy.
“Hello boys, what can I do for you?” I said using a bored tone.
Riggs just looked me up and down, a scowl on his face.
“We have a big job tonight, I need you and Jimmy to come with us. Meet me outside at eleven sharp.”
A big job usually meant something that would pay out big. Like doing work for the mafia. Something I was trying to stay hella clear of.
Riggs didn’t wait for an answer, just turned to leave when my voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Thanks for the invite, Riggs, but we already have a gig tonight. Rain check?”
It wasn’t wise to provoke him. But blindly obeying him just meant he’d take advantage of us more and I couldn’t allow that.
He turned on the balls of his feet and his look would have made a weaker man shrink back.
“It wasn’t a question, O’Brien.” he barked out, “Eleven sharp.”
He stalked off then, his goons giving me one final glare as if to drive their Boss’ point home before following him.
“Why did you do that?” Jimmy asked as soon as I closed the door.
I moved around the bed to face him.
“You know the type of gigs Riggs and his crew pulls are dangerous. Mafia shit. If we end up in jail there is no one to bail us out. Is that what you want?”
Jimmy seemed to consider that before looking up at me again, his expression hopeful.
“But it’s really good money.” he said, “You know I want to get a bike like yours. I could do deliveries like you.”
Because sometimes I used my bike to do deliveries on those food apps I signed up with using a stolen permit. It was decent money that kept our bellies full, but one gig with Riggs would mean I wouldn’t have to do those deliveries for at least a month. Still, at least the delivery money was clean money unlike Mafia money.
“It’s dirty money.” I replied.
Jimmy scoffed.
“Since when do you care about that, Shane?” he countered. Reminding me that when we’d just run away from home, I’d done things I’d rather not think about now.
“Since we have other options.” I said flatly, ending the conversation.
I lay back on the bed and opened my book again ignoring the young man sulking next to me.
That night, I’d been doing my delivery runs I usually did between 10 pm and 3 a.m but when I got back to the room, Jimmy was nowhere to be found.
I searched the back of the building where sometimes I’d find him smoking weed with some of the others, but only found a few of the hookers instead who lived in the building.
“Have you seen Jimmy?” I asked them, ignoring the way their eyes slid across my chest and abs. Growing up I’d always been a bit lanky, but ever since we’d escaped our foster home hell, I’d made it a point to get in better shape and learn how to fight, in case I ever needed those skills. Now, my shoulders and biceps were filling out the t-shirt I was wearing drawing more feminine eyes than I was comfortable with.
“Hello there pretty boy,” the one I knew as Lola drawled through her blood red lips, “Didn’t you hear? Riggs and his crew got busted tonight. I don’t think anyone is coming home any time soon. I thought you would have been with them since we saw Jimmy get in his truck.”
My blood ran cold.
“Which station?” I gritted out, anger coursing through my veins.
“Not a station darling,” Retta, the other girl said, blonde, busty and with bloodshot eyes “Gallagher’s.”
Fucking hell.
Why the fuck would Jimmy go behind my back like this? And to pull a gig on the fucking Irish mafia? Riggs clearly had a death wish.
I raced back to my bike, didn’t bother pulling on my helmet before I was zipping back down the road.
