Gap Year - 103. Chapter 103

May 1, 2004

Malibu, CA

Will

“I smell food,” I said in confusion.

“Bacon,” Travis said, as we walked down the stairs. “I guess Jake decided to cook?”

“I guess,” I said skeptically. We walked into the kitchen and I saw Consuela flipping bacon on the stove. She was one of the assistant cooks at Escorial. They must have shipped her down here to help out. “Hola!”

She turned around and smiled at me. “Hola, Mr. Will!”

“It is good to see you, Senora Gutierrez,” I said, bowing formally. She frowned at me. “You call me Will, and I’ll call you Consuela.”

“I will try to do that, but I may forget sometimes,” she said, grinning broadly as she did. I gave her a massive hug.

“You remember Travis?” I asked.

“I always remember the handsome men,” she said, leering at Travis, but coming from a relatively unattractive woman in her 40s, it was funny, not creepy.

“Why thank you,” Travis said, and bowed formally, kissing her hand like we were in the 18^th century. It seemed to be his signature move, and he was really good at it.

“So you decided you wanted to live by the beach?” I asked.

“I have not been getting along with Carmen,” she said, almost a growl. “She runs the kitchen at Escorial like she owns it, and she will not let anyone else do anything creative or fun.” I was aware that there were issues between these two, and in reality Consuela was the obnoxious one. Carmen would lay out the food schedule, and Consuela would change things up without talking to anyone. Transferring her down here was probably a slick way to solve a problem here and at Escorial.

“You’ll be your own boss here,” I said optimistically.

“I am excited to do just that,” she said. “I will have to spend some time with Mr. Kevin, Mr. Cody, and Mr. Jeff to see what they like to eat.”

“Food,” I said, getting a chuckle from her, but it was true because none of those guys were picky eaters.

I heard my father’s footsteps as he walked across the marble floors and entered the kitchen. He was dressed in business attire and must have been working in his office. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen this,” he said, and tossed a newspaper on the table, opened to display a specific article.

Travis and I looked at the article and I gasped, because there was a picture of Zach along with the headline: Investigators have named Mr. Zachary Hayes as a person of interest in the death of Curtis Buck. “Fuck,” I heard myself say.

The article made a big deal out of the fact that Zach was a star running back for UCLA, and the picture they used was the same one that was posted on the Bruins website. The article concluded by noting that he hadn’t been seen on campus lately, and the cops had not been able to locate him. They ominously advised that if anyone spotted him, they should contact the Los Angeles Police Department. “He’s a hunted man now,” my father noted somberly.

“That sucks,” I said. Travis gave me an odd look, because it was pretty obvious that he was jealous of Zach.

“Do you think he did it?” Travis asked.

“I mean, I guess it’s possible,” I said. I had a hard time seeing Zach as a murderer, but then I remembered the look of rage in his eyes when he’d assaulted me and knew that he very well could have been the one who’d taken Curtis Buck out.

“Sucks to be him,” Travis said dismissively. Ever since he’d met with the LAPD and they’d basically cleared him of suspicion in Curtis’s death, he’d seemingly closed the book on the whole thing and had been pretty disinterested in it. I thought that was kind of self-centered of him, but he’d been through a bunch of shit, and I decided not to judge him for it.

My father sat down at the table, indicating that he wanted to have a conversation, so Travis and I obliged him. Consuela brought food over at the same time, so we began to eat. “I remember when Scott Slater was in a position kind of like this,” my father said.

“He was?” Travis asked curiously.

“He was,” my father confirmed, his tone indicating he wasn’t going to go into the details of that situation. “Even though we weren't on the best of terms at the time, I knew that I was really the only person he could turn to, and that he would come looking for me.” His eyes bored into mine as he made that statement.

“You’re telling me that Zach is likely to show up on my doorstep?” I asked.

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Dad said.

“Then you should call the cops,” Travis said.

“I am not going to do that,” I said to him firmly. He gave me a dour look and focused on eating.

“What are you going to do?” Dad asked.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I said. Dad made to push the issue, but I let my eyes briefly flit over to Travis to indicate I didn’t want to have that conversation in front of him.

“Well let me know when you figure it out,” he said.

“Where’s Jake?” I asked. It was kind of cool that with a dilemma like this, I immediately thought of Jake and wanted his advice.

“He’s in the City,” Dad grumbled. “The Foundation planned a big team-building event today, I think it was a paintball tournament or something like that, and a big part of it was so the employees get to know him on a more casual basis.”

“I can see why that was important,” I said.

“He should get back here tomorrow morning,” Dad said, then got up and went back to his office.

“Why would you help Zach out?” Travis demanded, going back to that discussion.

“Because I promised him that I’d always be his friend, and that’s what friends do,” I said. “He’s done some nice things for both of us lately.”

“What has he done that was so nice?” Travis demanded.

“Well, for one thing, he called me when we were in Italy and confirmed that there actually was a contract out on you, and he also told us that Guy Fellowes was working with Curtis,” I said.

“He did do that,” Travis said, although his words were reluctant.

“And he was nice to you at your party,” I reminded him.

“You’re supposed to be nice to someone at their birthday party,” he said in a bitchy way.

“Yeah, because that’s how everyone else was,” I said sarcastically.

“Do what you want,” he said, pushed his plate away, and stormed out of the kitchen. Consuela looked at me and raised an eyebrow, while I just shook my head. I finished eating, both because I was still hungry and to give Travis time to cool down, then went up to our room. I found him sulking on the couch, with his back propped up by a pillow at one end and his legs spread out across the rest of it, just staring at his phone.

I sat down so my hips were next to his, forcing him to move a bit to make room for me, then lovingly stroked the soft skin that covered his bulging bicep. “Tell me what this is really about.”

“The guy is an asshole. He made my life a living hell for a year, and he hurt you,” he said, his tone full of outrage.

“I know that, but I thought we had put that behind us,” I said soothingly. He grimaced at me and looked away. “Travis,” I said, to get his attention.

“What?” he demanded belligerently.

“Tell me what this is really about. Why does he bother you?” He looked away, ignoring me. “Tell me why you lost it when you caught me hugging him.”

“You think I’m jealous of him?” he asked me, which was hilarious because that all but confirmed he was. “As if.”

“I don’t know what to think; that’s why I’m asking you,” I said calmly. I leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you.”

He grimaced, then smiled slightly. “I love you, too,” he said, and pulled my head in and gave me a sweet kiss. We looked at each other, our eyes locked, until he sighed. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Dude, seriously?” I asked, totally blown away that he’d think that.

“Never mind,” he said, retreating in the face of my reaction. As a physical sign of how vulnerable he felt, he sat up, and almost knocked me off the couch, but in a caring way he made sure to catch me before that happened.

I stood up, held out my hand, and helped him up, then gestured to the floor. “Time to have a bearskin rug talk.” He chuckled at me, but did as I asked, so we were sitting on the rug, facing each other. “You are not going to lose me.”

“I remember when we were driving back from the Wedge, and how when you talked about Zach you looked all wistful and totally in love,” he said bitterly. “Then when I caught you hugging him, you almost had the same expression.”

“When we were driving back from the Wedge, I did love him,” I said. “In a way, I still do, but it’s completely different.”

“Love is love,” he stated.

“Really?” I challenged. “I love my father, but I don’t want to fuck him.”

“That’s different,” he said, and I could not stop myself from laughing. “Why is that so fucking funny?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and put my hand on his leg to calm him down, while I forced myself to stop laughing. “It’s a family joke. Whenever Grand or my father says ‘that’s different’, it’s because they’re wrong.”

“So you’re saying I’m wrong?” he asked.

“I am,” I confirmed, even though that seriously pissed him off. “There are a lot of guys who I have strong feelings for. That’s what Casey was saying about those compartments I put relationships in.”

“Alright, well let’s change the term to saying ‘in love’,” he said.

“Cool,” I said. “That makes things a lot easier.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“There’s only one person I’m in love with,” I said. I waited until he looked at me. “You.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” he said, which was cute. “But you made it seem like you could be in love with more than one person.”

“That’s the dilemma I’ve been dealing with since I talked to Casey before Hawaii, and I honestly don’t know if that’s possible or not, but right now, it is not an issue,” I said.

“I guess I’m worried that it could become an issue, and that’s why Zach bugs me,” he said.

“I think I understand,” I said. He probably thought that if I allowed Zach back into my life as a friend, it was only a matter of time before my old feelings for him re-emerged. “That’s not an issue with Zach. Our relationship is permanently changed.”

“I mean, you say that, but can you control it?” he asked.

“I can,” I confirmed, then explained. “He crossed a line. I’ve gotten to the point with him where I can be his friend, even his confidante, but I could never be that intimate with him again.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d even want to do that,” he grumbled.

“If we broke up, would you just write me off and have nothing to do with me?” I asked. I almost laughed at the contortions on his face.

“No,” he finally admitted.

“Why?” I asked. He was going to blow me off, but when he looked at me, he realized I wanted a real answer.

“I have been alone for so much of my life, and when I needed a partner and a friend the most, you were there for me,” he said lovingly. “You basically chased me all over Europe, you cleaned up my mess with the whole Buck Industries thing, and you had my back with all of this shit with my family.”

“I did not chase you all over Europe,” I insisted, getting a smirk from him because he’d been baiting me.

“Seemed that way to me,” he said playfully.

“Whatever,” I said, then got serious. “That’s exactly why I can’t write Zach off.”

“Because of 9-11,” he said, but the way he said it, almost dismissively, actually pissed me off.

“I lost three of my four parents that day,” I said, and my aggressive tone backed him up. “I said goodbye to my mother in the tower, and she made me promise to take care of my sister. I carried her down a hundred fucking flights of stairs and then watched the fucking building collapse with Robbie, my mother, and her wife in it. Everyone in my family was wounded, but no one was worse than my father. I exerted every ounce of energy I had to try and heal from that nightmare, to make sure Maddy was okay, and to help my father to recover. The only way I was able to do that was because Zach was there to prop me up. Without him, I would not have been able to recover quickly enough to help everyone else out. Shit, I don’t know if I would have recovered at all.” I felt the tears flowing as those memories re-emerged in my brain, to the point where I was almost a basket case.

I felt Travis’s strong arms envelop me, and buried my head on his shoulder as I recovered from my tear attack. “I’m sorry,” he said soothingly as he stroked my back. “I understand.”

I pulled away from him and wiped my eyes off. “I used to have those attacks multiple times in a day. Now they don’t happen very often.”

“I am so sorry I sparked one,” he said, and his eyes got watery, so badly did he feel.

“It’s fine,” I said, then smiled at him. “In the past, I would have leaned on Zach for support. Now I have you, and that is so much better.”

He kissed me, and what was a soft but loving kiss quickly escalated into a passionate one. We redirected all of our angst into sexual energy and made love on the rug. When we were done, we lay there, sated, just enjoying the afterglow. “I’m really sorry that I was such an ass about him,” Travis said.

“I’m glad that you get my relationship with him,” I said, hoping I was right. “At this point, it’s me helping him out. If I need support, I have you and my family.”

“So when he comes up to you and says he desperately needs some dick, you’re not going to fuck him?” he asked. He was joking, but he was also kind of serious.

“I’m not,” I said. “Besides, he doesn’t need me to fuck him.”

“He found another dude to be his bitch?” Travis asked.

“No,” I said. “Taylor bought a strap-on.” He looked at me for a second, then burst out laughing. “You cannot tell anyone I told you that,” I admonished.

“Dude, I won’t say anything, but I’m going to think about that every time I’m depressed and I need to laugh,” he said. We got up and looked at the waves, which were dead today, and frowned at each other. “I think I’m going to work out.”

“I’m going to check in with my dad, then I’ll meet you in the gym,” I said, referring to our workout room.

We stood up and I threw my clothes on, while he put on his workout gear. I went back downstairs and knocked on the door to my father’s office. “Come in!” he said. I entered to find that he was on the phone, so I mouthed the word ‘sorry’. He held up his hand to tell me to wait. “Give me a minute,” he said, then put the call on hold.

“I wanted to get your advice about Zach,” I said. “I can come back later.”

“Go grab drinks for both of us while I get off this call,” he directed. I nodded, went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of sodas, and got glasses with ice to kill a little extra time. When I got back to his office, he had already ended his call. “Thanks,” he said.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your day,” I said.

“Well, it’s Saturday, so I probably shouldn’t be working anyway,” he said.

“Help me think this deal through with Zach,” I said, almost a command.

“I think he’ll come looking for you,” Dad said. “In my mind, the first thing you need to do is to find out if he actually killed Curtis Buck. But before he even materializes, I think it’s important that we have legal counsel lined up for him.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Can you help me with that?”

“Jake already handled it,” he said proudly, and handed me a blank business card with the name of an attorney and her phone number written on it.

“Awesome,” I said.

“I think the plan should be to help him stay hidden long enough to meet with her and strategize on how to approach the LAPD,” Dad said.

“I guess if he did it, he could flee the country,” I said, thinking to myself.

“He could,” Dad agreed. “That’s a big decision for him. He’d have to live his life in fear of being busted and dragged back to the US, even if he lived in a country with no extradition treaties.”

“I guess for him, that would probably mean a Scott Slater type of deal,” I said, referring to how Scott had gotten a whole new identity.

“That worked for Scott, but probably wouldn’t work for Zach,” Dad said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because Scott hated his life and was thrilled to be able to start over again,” Dad answered. “I don’t think Zach wants to do that.”

I nodded. “I think he’s pretty much happy with his situation.”

“Let me know if you need my help,” he said, to end our conversation.

“For sure,” I said, and went to go work out with Travis.

May 2, 2004

Malibu, CA

Will

Travis and I were snuggled up on my couch watching Saturday Night Live. Lindsay Lohan was hosting. We’d seen Rachel Dratch do this new character, “Debbie Downer”, and Usher had just come on and was singing “Yeah.” I heard my phone beep and pulled it out to see that I had a text message. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and the message simply said “Help”.

“What the fuck is that all about?” Travis asked.

I looked at it for about five seconds. “I’ll bet it’s Zach.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“It’s just a hunch,” I said. “Who else would text me that at 12:14am?”

“What are you going to do?” Travis asked.

“This,” I said as I typed a response.

Will: “Where are you?”

Anonymous: “Under the bridge. Topanga Canyon Creek.”

Will: “I’ll pick you up. I’ll be in the Toyota.”

Anonymous: “Text me when you want me to come out.”

Will: “OK”

“You’re going to Topanga Canyon Creek?” Travis asked me unnecessarily.

“Duh,” I said, as I got up and put on my hoodie. “You going with me?”

“If you want me too,” he said resignedly.

“Up to you,” I said, but stood there.

“Fine,” he grumbled. We walked out of our room and I went up the stairs, which confused him.

“No way I can leave and not tell my father,” I said. He would fucking have kittens if I did that.

“Fine,” he grumbled again.

I walked up to Dad’s door and knocked. “Enter,” I heard him say.

“Sounds awake,” Travis noted.

We went in to find him sitting up in bed with his laptop. “Still working?” I challenged.

“If I work now, I can surf tomorrow,” he said in a smarmy way, which made us chuckle. “What’s up?”

“I got a text message. I think it’s from Zach,” I said.

“Let’s see it,” he said. I handed him my phone, but supervised him to make sure he didn’t decide to snoop through my other conversations. “So you’re on your way to Topanga Canyon to pick him up?”

“That was my plan,” I said.

“There’s a problem with that plan,” he said. “Steve told me this evening that there’s a sheriff stationed at the entrance to the Colony.”

“Why would a sheriff be there?” Travis asked. My father said nothing, but looked at me, forcing me to figure it out.

“To catch Zach if he tried to show up here,” I concluded.

“That’s a distinct possibility,” Dad said.

“So how do I get around that?” I mused. “Can I hide him in the back seat of the Toyota?”

“I’m guessing they’ll see you leave, with two guys in the truck,” he said. “If you came back with the same two guys, I don’t know why that would be suspicious. If you came back with three, or a big lump covered in a blanket in the back, that would be.”

My mind worked frantically until I came up with a potential solution. “I can see us handling this one of two ways. The first is that we pick him up and drop him off near Malibu pier and let him walk along the beach to get here.”

“If they have someone at the entrance to the Colony, chances are they have someone near the beach,” Dad said.

“Then Travis can wear a hoodie; we can leave and pick up Zach,” I said. “When we pick up Zach, he can put on Travis’s hoodie,” I said. “They’ll probably think that Zach is Travis.”

“That could work,” Dad said.

“Yeah, but there’s only one problem,” Travis said. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

I chuckled at him. “I’ll drop you off by Malibu Pier. You can then walk back on the beach.”

“Now?” he bitched.

“Or you can pick up Zach and bring him back, and I can walk,” I said. “I don’t care. Up to you.”

“I’ll do it,” he said grumpily.

“You’ll probably need to wait about ten minutes so that Will and Zach are back home,” Dad said to Travis.

“Got it,” Travis said, and that ended our conversation. We stopped at our room to get a hoodie that would work on both Zach and Travis, then went downstairs and left in the Toyota. “There’s the sheriff.”

“Let’s not light up a joint,” I joked. Travis did a great job, making sure his hoodie covered his face. I saw the sheriff staring at us, noting that the lights from the street illuminated the inside of the Toyota. I set the cruise control for the speed limit and tooled down PCH. When I was about five minutes away, I pulled out my phone.

WILL: ETA 5 minutes. South side.

Anonymous: Thanks

“Good call on the South side,” Travis commented.

“Thanks,” I said. “When we get there, you should take off your hoodie and hop in back.”

“Relegated to the back seat,” he said acidly.

“Travis, come on,” I pleaded.

“Sorry,” he said. We pulled up to the parking lot. It wasn’t a perfect location, because across the creek was a bar, but the trees hopefully provided enough of a shield to make our big move. We parked and I reached up to dim the interior lights, then manually shut off the headlights. Travis jumped out, pulled off his hoodie, and then hopped in the back seat. We waited for a couple of minutes, both of us on edge. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Be patient,” I snapped. “He has to make sure no one is watching.”

Before Travis could argue with me, the passenger door opened and Zach got it. I immediately started the car and backed up. “Put on this hoodie,” I said to him. He did as I instructed.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” he said.

“Dude, you reek,” Travis said, as he rolled down his window a bit.

“Sorry,” he said, and turned back. “I know you hate me, so this is like an amazing thing you’re doing.”

“I don’t hate you,” Travis said, but in such a resigned way it was almost hilarious. It was like he was mad at himself because he didn’t hate Zach.

“Still, it’s a big deal, and I really appreciate it,” Zach said.

“We’re going to drop Travis off by Malibu Pier. Keep the hoodie so it shields most of your face,” I said.

“Why?” he asked, confused.

“Because there are sheriffs staking out our house,” I said.

“Then let’s not go there,” Zach said.

“Look,” I said. “You cannot run forever. We need to get you to a place where you can explain your deal, talk to a lawyer, and then turn yourself in.”

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Zach insisted.

“You want to get an identity change and a bunch of plastic surgery like Scott Slater?” I challenged. “You want to totally write off your football career?”

“Did you kill Curtis Buck?” Travis asked.

“No, but I know who did,” Zach said.

“Then what the fuck are you worried about?” Travis asked.

“I’m worried that I’m the scapegoat,” Zach snapped. “That’s what I’m fucking worried about.”

I stopped a bit south of Malibu Pier, and Travis hopped out without saying a word. “See you in a few,” I said. He just shrugged.

“Dude, I am sorry I’m causing you problems,” Zach said.

“He’ll deal with it,” I said. “Here,” I said, and adjusted his hoodie so it was the way Travis had had it. I drove north and turned into the Colony. The sheriff there stared at us intently but didn’t stop us. I drove down to our house, totally paranoid that I’d see the sheriff’s flashing lights, but we made it safely into the garage.

My father walked out as soon as the garage door closed. “Welcome,” he said to Zach. “I want you to stay in Darius’s house. I’m hoping if they get a search warrant, they won’t think of adding his house to it. The other thing is that it’s easier to see through the windows of this house.”

“Makes sense,” Zach said. “I just appreciate you letting me stay here,”

“Come on,” Dad said, smiling. “Get cleaned up, then you can tell us why the LAPD wants to question you.”

“I’ll find some clothes that will fit you,” I said. I tore up to my room and disturbingly enough, I found a few of Zach’s things that he’d left here. I hurried back downstairs to find my Dad coming back from the other house. “Will you take these over to him?”

“He’s in JJ’s old room,” Dad said, acting annoyed that I would ask him to run my errands.

“Dad, please just do this,” I asked. The last thing I wanted was to be in a bedroom where Zach was taking a shower.

“Fine,” he said. I walked down the steps to the beach and looked south. When I did, I saw Travis ambling up the coast, so I strolled down to meet him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, smiling.

“Came to escort you back,” I said, and gave him a quick kiss. We started walking back when a bright light shined in our eyes. “What the fuck?” I demanded.

“Turn off the fucking light,” Travis yelled.

“I’ll need to see your identification,” a cop said.

I handed him my license, then called my father. “What?”

“There’s a cop on the beach harassing Travis and me,” I said.

“Let me talk to him,” he ordered. I handed the phone to the cop, who took it grudgingly. My father was talking so loudly I could hear his voice but not what he said. The cop looked at my ID, then handed it back to me, even as he listened to my father. After a couple of minutes, he handed the phone back to me.

“Have a nice evening,” the cop said.

“Whatever,” I said, glaring at him. Travis and I walked back to the house, then made the brief trip through the passageway to Darius’s house. My father was sitting there with Zach, still seething. “Thanks,” I said to him.

“Assholes,” Dad grumbled.

“I want to know who killed Curtis Buck,” Travis demanded, staring boldly at Zach.