“He’s here,” she says, “in the bathroom.”
Ryan just shrugs, “Okay.”
A few moments later someone slaps Ryan on theback.
“Yo, bro,” Sean says derisively.
We all look at him for a beat and then Ryanstands up slowly, menacingly.
Sean glances down at me, “Hey Alana.”
Ryan steps immediately in front of me, “Don’teven look at her.”
“Geez, defensive much?”
I put my hand on Ryan’s arm. “It’s okay,” buthe isn’t having it. He’s still pissed about what happened atCulture.
“You look like shit, brother,” Ryan saysclose to Sean’s face. I sneak a glimpse of Ryan’s mom and feel thehostility build as she watches them closely.
“I caught a bug,” Sean retorts.
“Is that what the kids are calling it thesedays?”
“I may look like shit but I can still kickyour ass.”
“Really, because the last time I saw you Ismashed your face into the floor.”
“Boys,” Mrs. Pierce reprimands, “if you’regonna fight take it outside.”
I feel like I just caught a sneak peek intoRyan and Sean’s childhood.
I study the three of them standing together,taking in their mannerisms and features. It’s obvious where Seanand Ryan get their looks from. They have their mother’s straightnose and wide eyes, perfectly proportionate lips and even the samehair color. You can tell through her worn features and tired eyesthat she was stunning once.
Ryan hesitates to move so Sean punches hisarm, “C’mon don’t act like a bitch.”
“The only bitch around here is you.”
I can’t see Ryan’s face, but I can seeSean’s; he’s trying not to smile. Smug bastard. Ryan’s rightthough, he doesn’t look good. His face is pale and thin, and thereare dark circles under his eyes.
“I’m not going to tell you again, hash it outoutside,” Mrs. Pierce orders.
“Fine,” Ryan bites, never taking his eyes offSean. I’m getting an educational introduction to the dynamic ofRyan’s family.
“We’ll be right back.” Ryan kisses mechastely on the cheek then heads towards the door.
“Don’t kill each other,” Ryan’s motherdrawls.
I see Sean and Ryan talking animatedlythrough the front window, they’re both exactly the same height andeven have an identical profile, except Ryan’s hair is fluffed up,while Sean’s is covered by a hat.
“So, Alana,” Mrs. Pierce says my name, butpronounces it Alaner.
“Ryan tells me you’re a lawyer.”
“I’m in law school.”
“You must be really smart.”
“I study a lot,” I say humbly.