Page 110 of A Dead Man's B-Side
Alexandr Miroslav
1982
“Right, because drugging them will get them to spill something of importance. Really, do you think at all?”
“And what’s your great idea, huh? Cold, sober torture?”
“Well, they won’t be forgetting it, I can tell you that!” Ajax huffed and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray next to him.
After the last time we’d turned the room into a smokescreen, the fine establishment decided it best to place one in front of each of us.
How accommodating.
August seemed to come to the realization of something, because he said, “Wait a minute, you’re only saying that because they’re on the football teamandThe Fenlon Society. You want them gone, and you want it to be painful. This benefits you.”
Rain arched a brow at the information but remained otherwise indifferent.
“What does Marigold think? Thaddeus must see something there.” Paris spoke after a large swallow of wine.
I furrowed my brows at the almost empty cup before turning to watch Marigold’s reaction. Rain muttered under her breath and tookanother drag of her cigarette when the former caved into herself at the attention, “We’ll never get anywhere.”
Wolf softened his voice, not at all the insulting tone he’s taken with Ajax, “Any idea is a good idea.”
I ran a hand over my face to cover my growing amusement. He would have made a good school teacher.
Except, my laughing mood dimmed when I thought of ‘teacher’, because Mr Browne had flashed in my mind. He was someone I didn’t want to think about unless absolutely necessary. Marigold looked around before speaking, “I think we should go after Scott, because he’s the most reckless. Study what makes him tick and use it against him. Have R-Rain kick him from the team and make his grades slip. When he’s at his lowest, offer a way out—at a cost.”
“That,” Rain started, “doesn’t sound completely idiotic.”
To everyone in the room, she was practically calling Marigold a genius.
Paris placed her elbows on the table, something Rain pursed her lips at. “She’s brilliant, our Goldie.”
“Goldie?” I asked.
Paris met my eyes, and with a bright glint in her eyes, she said, “Why, of course. If you’ve got a nickname, why can’t anyone else?”
August went to ask, but Rain cut him off, “Don’t even attempt. You can have your fun once we’ve laid out a proper, well-articulated plan.”
“Well, you can ask that Theodore of yours to find any bylaws that would get Scott kicked from the team, and from The Fenlon Society–” I started to say.
“I know the bylaws by heart.” Rain interrupted, her tone serious.
“… Of course.”You do, I wanted to finish but chose not to antagonize during such an important conversation. “Well, if you need anything, we are here. Aside from that, someone will have to distract him from his education.”
Like a circus act, we all turned to Paris.
“Why are you all–oh, no! No. I refuse.”
“We’re all making sacrifices.” Rain tried to mediate, but she only seemed to be making things worse.
“Oh, I’m sure you are. Tell me, what the rest of you are going to do?”
I tapped the end of my cigarette against my respective tray, waving the idea away. “Alright. You’re right. Paris can’t be the only option possible.”
August thought to himself for a moment, before asking, “Does he ever need tutoring?”
Rain shook her head. “No.” She knew where August was going. “So, we can’t exactly teach him false information.”
