I'm the Bad Guy, Duh

Gavin woke groggily. His body felt heavy, his head buzzed and the fillings in his teeth itched. Blinking he tried to look around, but his surroundings were dark, dimly lit by a sparse few bulbs hanging from the high ceiling. The floor was all grey, concrete from beneath his feet to every corner of the darkness, the space incredibly wide but empty, dotted with tall iron beams that reached high into the cracked and rusted roof, small pockets of sunlight shining down through. So, it was still daytime, he concluded, though it was the only clue this empty, nondescript, generic warehouse afforded him.

As clarity slowly returned to his mind, he remembered where he had been, at the basement beneath Oh Henry’s. He could still see Grace turning in his memory, taser in hand, the last image he had seen before he blacked out. It was obvious that Grace had shocked him and brought him here, but for what purpose? Was this all because he’d figured out that she’d helped Hannah? No, there had to be something else going on here, he reasoned. Grace wasn’t this violent and reckless on her own. There had to be someone else involved that was making her do these things.

“Grace,” he called out, his voice hoarse, his throat aching from where she’d jammed the taser against his skin. He couldn’t see her, but he hoped she was nearby, to hear his strained shouts. “Grace!”

A figure stepped out from the shadows, dressed in black from head to toe, a black face mask covering her mouth and nose, her brown hair tied back. He could tell from the lithe shape and the swell of her breasts beneath her hoodie that it was a girl, and the cool, green eyes, the only part of her face he could make out, was all he needed to be sure that it was really Grace. From beneath the mask, she told him, “Don’t call me that. Not here.”

“Then what should I call you?” He asked, pushing through the pain of talking, and wondering if she might even say ‘k3Y$Tr0kE’.

“Don’t call me anything,” she ordered instead, turning away from him and folding her arms. “Just sit there and shut up.”

He ignored that part and tried to appeal to her, to the relationship that they once had. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten mixed up in, but you don’t have to do this, whatever it is you’re doing. I can help you figure a way out of this. We were friends once, weren’t we?”

“Friends?” Grace scoffed, though she refused to look at him. “We were never friends. We were rivals.”

“Rivals? I know that we pushed each other, but I only ever saw it as friendly competition,” Gavin said, taken aback by her claim. “If I was your rival, would I have helped you convince your father to let you stay in Computer Club?”

“The only way you could have helped was by buggering off,” Grace growled and clenched her fists, really wishing there was something nearby that she could break. “From day one, all I ever heard was how great Gavin Westher was. I was working on a project and someone would tell me, ‘oh you should talk to Gavin, he did something similar recently’ or, ‘Gavin knows a lot about programming, you should ask him’. And it wasn’t just Computer Club. In Class, no matter how hard I tried, I was always second best to you. How was I ever supposed to match up to my father’s expectations, if I was always behind you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Gavin said sincerely, as he wondered what else she hadn’t told him. “I was just trying to do my own best, I never intended for anyone else to feel inadequate.”

“Of course, you don’t intend to, that’s half the reason people like you. Kind, smart, good-natured Gavin, so brilliant and yet so shy, he never means to hurt anyone. Ugh.” She took a deep breath, trying to expel the anger that had built up over that last sentence. “I thought to myself, fine, let him have the school. I’ll prove myself in the real world. So, I put myself forward for the Robotics award sponsored by Smith Industries, my own damn family.” Gavin’s eyes widened, already knowing where this was headed. “But guess who beat me out for it!”

Gavin frowned. In fairness, he hadn’t found out who sponsored the prize until after he’d already won, though he didn’t think that would be of any consolation to Grace. “I bet they just didn’t want to give it to you because it would look suspicious if a family member won the prize money. And, you beat me for the programming grant from Ravers Enterprises more recently.”

“Only because I sabotaged your entry,” Grace confessed, turning her head slightly and looking sideways at Gavin. “No matter what I did, or where I applied, you always seemed to be there. The Wynwick fund, the Thirlby prize, you got them all. So, when it came time to hand in my application for the Ravers grant, and I saw your form on the pile, I waited until the receptionist wasn’t looking and stole yours. I trashed it a little way down the street. And now, finally, my dad is coming around the idea that maybe this isn’t such a bad idea for a career.”

“I’m sorry. Honestly, I gave most of that money to my mum, so that she could have a holiday. She works so hard, and raised me all by herself, I just wanted to do something for her, for once,” Gavin said sadly, conflicted by his desire to help Grace and being hurt that she would actually, actively interfere with his application. “If I’d known, maybe we could have worked something out, like you take half the applications and I take the others, or I could have just shared the money with you.”

“Gavin, you ignorant ass, it’s not about the money!” Grace barked, spinning around to face him again, finally, her whole body tight and wound up. “You’re so nice, and kind and so oblivious, it’s infuriating. You can’t even see what you do to people even if it’s right in front of your eyes, you’re so shy, and feeble, everyone one else has to do everything for you. I shouldn’t have to tell you what you should be able to see right in front of you. Maybe, just for once, I’d like you to see it for yourself and make the first move. Instead, you make a girl wait and wait and wait, until she can’t wait any more, and it’s so maddening being friends with you, that it’s just easier to be at odds.”

“I…I’m not that guy anymore. I know it sounds cliché, but I’ve grown a lot over the past week and a bit. If there was something I should have seen, then I’m sorry,” Gavin, despite being the one tied to the chair, apologized to her, seeing the pain and anguish on her face and wishing that he could just get up and hug her. “The truth is, I did have feelings for you. But I thought you were too good for me, too beautiful. I didn’t think I could live up to your family standards. I thought you didn’t feel the same way, but you did. That’s why you warned off those football players. You were looking out for me because you have feelings for me too, isn’t that right?”

“Football players?” Grace repeated with a tilt of her head, then chuckling as she remembered. “Oh that. It wasn’t really difficult to edit a few pictures to make it look like they were sucking each other’s cocks, and it got them off my back too. Those guys were jerks and I was just putting them in their place. You’re way off base if you think that means I felt anything…romantic…for you.”

She turned up her nose, but Gavin was sure it was just an act, guarding her heart and trying not to show any vulnerability. But, appealing to that heart might be the only thing that would get him out of this in one piece. “I know you didn’t always hate me. I didn’t spend every year of high school with you, countless days at Computer Club, countless nights chatting and not know who you were. You might deny it, but I know that you’re a good person. Maybe you chose to be my rival one day instead of my friend, but I don’t believe you ever stopped being a good person.”

“I wouldn’t be the first person to trade their morals for a quick buck,” Grace noted, folding her arms again. “You know how expensive computers can be, and how much of your money is always going towards the next project. Despite my family, I was in the same boat as you, because my dad refused to contribute to what he saw as a hobby. So, even if you don’t believe I’m a bad person, I am a greedy person.”

“And how much did they have to pay you to hurt me?” Gavin asked pointedly, still finding it hard to believe that Grace had really tasered him, dragged him off to a dark, empty warehouse and tied him to a chair.

Grace swallowed audibly, and confessed, “I was told you wouldn’t be harmed.”

Gavin frowned, silently wondering which of them was the oblivious one now. “Why do you think you can trust these people, Grace?”

“Don’t say my name!” she snapped; her eyes wide.

“Why?” Gavin demanded, edging forward in the chair as much as he was able. “Who are you afraid of?”

“Me,” came the chilling voice of Shawn Lewis as he stepped out of the shadows, just as Grace had, catching them both by surprise.

A little way up the road, on top of a hill overlooking the warehouse yard, Trent’s car was parked curb-side. The teen himself was standing outside, leaning against the passenger door of his car, looking down into the yard where Grace had parked her car. He’d watched as she got out and half carried Gavin into the warehouse in the same fashion that she’d walked him out of the bar. Then, he waited, sure that someone else was still to come. There were no other cars in the yard, and the place seemed fairly abandoned.

Even if Grace wasn’t waiting for someone, he could simply hold on until she left, and then sneak down and save Gavin himself. But she’d been inside for a while now, which was suspicious too. Nothing about this whole situation was adding up to him, and he was sure if he just waited, he would get some answers. Unfortunately, patience was not something that came naturally to the black football player. Just as it was beginning to wear thin, he saw a motorbike pull into the yard, the rider without a helmet.

The rider dismounted, and, even from that distance, Trent had a fairly good look at him. He had a shaved head, and by the way he walked, Trent couldn’t tell this was an arrogant son of a bitch who thought he owned the world. It sounded to Trent like an almost perfect description of Shawn that Kurt had given him last night. He watched as the wanted man entered the warehouse, already in the process of pulling out his phone and dialing.

He kept watching, as he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the ringtone to give way to the voice on the other end. Connected, he asked, “Hey, you’re still looking for Shawn Lewis, right?”