Page 34 of Rough Rider (Bad Boy High)
What are you doing all the way over here?Bam and I are in Section F, which is for the fuckups and failures. Section A is for the bright and shiny. Andy is probably in Section A in her school. Her shine is getting a little tarnished by me. Can’t say I’m too broken up about it.
To my right, I sense Bam shifting, no longer pretending to be asleep. He’s so nosy.
“You guys are Riders, right?” Terry’s eyes fall to my arm, which is covered up by the navy track jacket I’m wearing.
“What about it?” I keep my tats covered up in school.
“I want to be recruited," he says.
“You don’t.”
At the same time, Bam says, “Why?”
I shake my head and try to signal to him to shut up. We shouldn’t encourage this kid.
“Because it seems like a thing I’d be good at.”
I tap the skin under my right eye, the same area where evidence of his shiner still lingers. “Seems like you’re not very good at it.”
“That’s just me showing that I can take a punch.”
Bam snorts. “Do you know what it takes to be an enforcer for the Riders?”
“I’ve heard. I gotta beat one of you.” The boy’s chin jerks, a little defiantly.
Bam sits up. “Are you challenging me?”
“If I have to.”
“Oh, Christ.” This is stupid. To be an enforcer isn’t just punching someone in the face. It’s about being willing to break bones, knock them clear the fuck out, to take someone to the edge, make them so scared they piss their pants or are willing to sell their child to you, but I’m not saying all that in front of my high school classmates. I settle for “It’s not like it seems.”
“I’m not saying I’ll challenge you two but maybe someone else. Maybe I don't even have to take someone out. The word on the street is that the Riders are trying to expand their territory. They need more people.” I shoot Bam a questioning look. He shrugs and spreads his hands out as if to say, “Don’t look at me.”
“We’re not in charge of recruitment, and if you are hearing Rider business on the street then you should know where to go for recruitment.”
The boy’s hands curl into fists, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m going to have to fight some Section A kid in the middle of my homeroom, but the bell rings. The door opens, and our teacher walks in. His eyes fall on Terry. “Who are you?”
“No one. He’s leaving.”
Terry hesitates and then hustles out. Bam drops his head back to his arms. I stare at the ceiling. For the next fifty minutes,the teacher drones on about something neither of us know or care about.
Bam and I leave after lunch. There are three more classes, but those teachers aren’t going to do anything if we’re not there. The laundromat is full when we arrive. I guess that kid was right. It’s open recruitment.
We do our little secret knock, get patted down, and are then ushered into Clark’s office. “Did you take a good look at our recruits?” he asks. “What do you think of them?”
“No idea.” Sometimes the scrawny ones are surprisingly good fighters. It all depends on how desperate someone is. “What’s with all the new muscle?”
“We’re expanding.” I guess Terry was right. “In fact”—Clark pushes a cell phone toward us—“I have a different sort of job for you.”
We stare at the phone like it’s a live snake about to bite. Usually our orders are oral, which we memorize. That way, there is less for cops to use against us if we’re ever caught.
“What’s this?” Bam finally asks.
“You did such a good job acquiring the apartment that we figured the two of you could manage this.”
I don’t wanna touch it. Bam starts to reach for the phone, but I stop him. “Why us?”
We’re the junior leagues. Almost everyone we collect from are individuals with a bad habit, not business owners with hundreds of thousands or even millions to protect. The adult Riders take care of the bigger stuff, and I haven’t decided yet that I want to move on.
