American Outlaw - Jesse James [28]
“Come on!” I’d encourage them, doing my best to channel Gil Lake, my crazy first coach. “Let’s get it, guys. Let’s go!”
We didn’t have any bullies on the team. I made sure of it. And we didn’t follow a big-dick hierarchy, where the grunts carried all the equipment while the seniors sat back all rested and laughing. We were a tight unit. We watched one another’s backs. I came from a fairly crazy one, so maybe I’m not the best judge, but it almost felt like a family to me.
“Dude, Jesse,” moaned Mike, my backup on offense, “aren’t you ever gonna let me get in, man? I haven’t played a dang play the whole season.”
“Mike, I’m sorry, man,” I said. “I swear, I’m gonna take a quarter off one of these days. That sound good?”
“Sure,” he said. His big freckled face looked glum, resigned to benchwarming. “Coach wouldn’t let you come out of the game even if you begged him to.”
“Hey,” I said seriously. “We’ll get you in a game before the season’s over. I promise.”
Mike looked at me. “Yeah, okay,” he said, finally.
It seemed like my life was finally leveling out. Scouts had been coming to my games all season. Bit by bit, I’d begun to receive recruitment letters from a handful of Division One schools. In my dresser at home, all stacked up on top of one another, I had envelopes from Pitt, Hawaii, Iowa, and Colorado. At night, I’d take them out and read them over and over again. A hazy vision of the future was beginning to build in my mind, and it felt promising.
I was feeling so good, I guess I let my guard down. And that’s when they got me.
I was reading a comic book in my bedroom one evening, dreaming about college cheerleaders and spacious, comfy dorms, when Nina came knocking at my door. Two uniformed Long Beach police officers stood behind her. “These men need to talk to you, Jesse,” she said, with a smug tone in her voice.
“We just need a moment of your time, son,” one of them said. Both of them walked into my room. Their eyes scanned every surface.
“Hey,” I objected. “You don’t have permission to come into my room. Where’s your warrant?”
“We do have permission,” he said, pointing to Nina. “You’re still a minor. Aren’t you, son?”
“Your dad said you were probably up to no good,” said Nina. “He said he figured these gentlemen had plenty of reasons to see you.”
The policeman smiled pleasantly. “Mind if we take a look around?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
My room was tiny. It took them less than two minutes to discover the pile of Canon cameras and lenses that Bobby had unloaded on me.
“Funny,” the first cop said, looking at the expensive equipment. “That’s precisely what he said we’d find here.”
“Who, my dad?” I fumed.
“No,” the cop said. He checked a notebook. “I’m referring to . . . Robert Murphy.”
“Bobby?”
“You’re acquainted with Mr. Murphy, son, are you not?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, he’s my friend. So what?”
The cop patted his notebook in a businesslike manner. “We found stolen goods at Mr. Murphy’s house this afternoon, goods that appeared to match those taken from the burglary at Rybeck’s Cameras on September sixteenth of this year.”
It was a small town. It figured that even these idiots had been able to put two and two together. “Yeah, and?”
“Mr. Murphy has stated on record that he received these stolen goods from you.” He smiled again, then shoved the knife in deeper. “He informed us that if we came to your house, we’d find the real stash. According to him, he was simply holding the cameras until you had time to sell them.”
With his own ass on the line, Bobby had sold me down the river. For a minute, I didn’t say anything. I shook my head, sadly.
“Yeah,” I said dully, after a minute. “You got me. I did the break-in.”
The cops looked at each other and shared a victorious grin. “We’re going to need you to come with us, son.”
“He’s in trouble?” Nina asked.
“Oh yes, ma’am,” the cop said, smiling. “This young man