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“What? She think I’m gonna off myself too?”
“No, I think she—”
“Come on in. Get a drink, take a seat, my friend.”
Chaz pours himself a glass, takes one of the fine wicker chairs that are more decorative than functional, and pulls it close to O’Leary.
They sit quietly for a long while. O’Leary has always appreciated that Chaz is one of those guys who talks only when they have something to say. Unlike the rest of the nitwits in the crew.
“You hear from the computer guy?” O’Leary asks.
Chaz shifts in his chair. “I did, Shane.” He rarely calls O’Leary by his first name even though Chaz has known him since he was a boy, was his dad’s top man. Chaz could treat O’Leary like a kid, but he doesn’t. He shows respect.
“And…”
“How about we talk about it tomorrow, after the funeral?”
“I want to know now.”
Chaz retrieves a cell phone from his jacket’s inside pocket. “Anthony’s phone didn’t tell us much. He deleted a lot of what was on it. But our guy managed to find some texts. He was being bullied.”
O’Leary feels the temperature of his blood bubble, his breath shorten. He takes a drink, lets Chaz continue.
“It gets worse.” Chaz swallows. “Our guy got into the headmaster’s computer and phone. The school knew—and the headmaster and some parents covered it up.”
O’Leary listens in a haze. About weeks of relentless bullying. About a video of his son. About a report to the school about it. About the slap on the wrists to the kids who did it. About powerful people making sure it stayed quiet.
“You have the video?”
“Shane, you don’t want to—”
“Show me the goddamned video!”
Chaz looks down at his lap, then fiddles with his phone.
O’Leary feels the tears streaming down his face as he watches. He can’t seem to swallow, to say anything. He feels a cocktail of unbridled sadness and rage.
Gina’s standing in front of him talking now, a concerned look on her face. Chaz is saying something to her, but O’Leary can’t make out the words. Then he sees her rip the phone away from Chaz and slide to the floor in devastation.
33
Chaz leaves O’Leary and Gina in the study. They need to be alone in their despair. Those two have been joined at the hip since they were teenagers, and Chaz is glad they have each other. He doesn’t think either would get through this alone.
O’Leary was brutally abused as a child, and Chaz has always regretted not doing anything about it. At the time, he told himself that it wasn’t his role to interfere with how someone raises their kid. Not to mention that crossing Shane’s father could result in spending eternity buried in a hole at the body farm. But on certain days, in a certain light, he doesn’t see his boss, but instead, a sixteen-year-old with a black eye or a cast on his arm and Chaz regrets he was a coward. But who’s he to judge? Chaz was a shit father himself to Patrick.
The caterers are cleaning up, gliding around trying to remain invisible as they gather glasses and plates and start breaking down the tall tables they’d covered with flowing covers.
Chaz finds Patrick and his crew in the living room, standing in front of a television. They’re watching a recap of the Eagles game.
Chaz feels a wave of anger. He approaches the group, asks Patrick for a word. Patrick is about to protest, but he must see the red in his father’s face.
“Have some respect, it’s a wake.”
“What? It’s over. They went upstairs and aren’t gonna—” Patrick stops midsentence and he looks a shade paler.
Chaz follows his glance and sees Gina in the living room. “Jesus,” Chaz says, shuttling over to the crew.
One of the boys wisely shuts off the television. He looks at Gina. “Mrs. O’Leary, I’m sorry, we thought you were turned in for the night, and—”