Authors: Owen Matthews
The Fixes (11 page)
They all jump. They scream as they're falling and they hit the water hard, and the water is shockingly cold and exhilarating, and they come up to the surface laughing and hollering, and then they swim over to the rocks and climb back up to the top of the cliffs and they do it again, all afternoon.
(And Jordan is the craziest of them all; he does backflips and gainers and long, graceful swan dives, climbs up to the
high
high cliff, the seventy-footer, and yells out like Tarzan as he leaps off the edge.)
They drink Palm Bays at the top of the cliffs, watching the sun shimmer on the water, and when they're all good and high and just, like,
mellow
, Eric asks the question he's been wanting to ask since the start.
“So, like,
why
?” he asks the others. “Why are you guys so determined to do this stuff, anyway?”
Why?
I mean, what could possibly incite a bunch of beautiful rich kids to this kind of rebellion?
Why would they risk it?
Capilano's pretty much their personal playground, right?
“I told you, E,” Jordan says. “We're sick of the hypocrisy and the bullshit in this place.”
“This town's a bunch of assholes,” Haley says.
“As soon as my dad's face showed up in the paper it was like I didn't exist at Cap High anymore.” Paige pauses. “I suddenly had
zero
friends. And none of my so-called âBFFs' will even text me back.”
It's more than that, though. It has to be, doesn't it?
“This place is rotten, E,” Jordan says. “It's as bad as L.A., maybe worse. As soon as I got here, I figured it out: everyone here, all our parents, the teachers, even the other kids, every last one of them is
full. Of. Shit
.
“This town needs fixing,” Jordan tells Eric. “And we're the only people who can see it.”
CITY POLICE SEARCHING FOR THE ROOM SNATCH-AND-GRAB GANG
City police don't have any suspects yet in the brazen snatch-and-grab robbery that shocked staff and shoppers alike at the city's most exclusive department store. The four gang members, who appeared to be teens or young adults, struck Sunday afternoon in a coordinated assault on The Room at Pacific Center mall.
The attack lasted only minutes, but a store spokesman confirmed the thieves were able to escape with nearly four thousand dollars' worth of merchandise. All of the gang members evaded capture.
A police sketch artist who spoke to witnesses produced these pictures of the suspects:
[Pictures follow. They're laughably bad. E's makes him look vaguely Mediterranean. Jordan might have Down syndrome, and Paige looks like a man. Haley looks kind of like Haley, but not enough to be worried. Nobody's tracing
those
pictures to the Pack.]
KIK -- CAPILANO HIGH PRIVATE MESSAGE GROUP â 07/12/16 â 10:24 PM
USERNAME: ThaINfamous
MESSAGE: Wooo that new Suicide Pack Vine is SICK. Anyone know who they are? My dad wants to preempt the movie rights.
“I don't get it,” Eric says, reading Jordan's Kik post on his phone. “Why do you want people to try and figure out who we are?”
“I'm just trying to build us some buzz, E,” Jordan replies.
“Okay, but why do we really
need
buzz? Isn't the point just to fix things?”
“Well, sure,” Jordan says. Then he grins. Wraps his arm around Eric's shoulders and pulls him closeâ
(
real
close)
(like, more-than-friends close)
â“but we have to keep the fans happy too,” Jordan says.
(And he smiles even wider.)
He's right. Within the Capilano social sphere, the Suicide Pack are superstars.
Jordan posts the department store Vine to the Cap High Kik group the day after the Fix. The Vine blows up
huge
.
It's a sexy little clip. The GoPros picked up crazy footage, the whole store in chaos, like a totally bonkers shopping spree the morning of Black Friday.
There's footage of the spikes outside The Room's front doors, too. A title card overlaid:
SELFISH CAPITALISTSâFIX YOURSELVES OR WE'LL DO IT FOR YOU.
Then the Suicide Pack logo.
The laughing girl.
Fin
.
Cap High goes wild.
Balls out!!
Amazing.
⺠⺠⺠âº
So fkn rad.
Can't wait to see what they do next.
Who are these guys?
Anyone know who did this?
Who the eff is the Suicide Pack?
And how do I get in on all this cool shit?
“Ann called me this afternoon,” Eric's dad says. “I was in a meeting, but I took the call, because my professional relationship with Ann is important. And do you know what she told me?”
(Eric and his dad are standingâ
(off)
âin the kitchen.)
Eric shrugs. “I guess she told you I slept in the other day. And then she probably told you she fired me.”
“She told me you were rude,” Eric's dad says. “She told me you were flippant and disrespectful and completely out of line.”
“I mean,” Eric says, “I think that's a slight exaggeration.”
“I pulled a lot of favors to get you that posting.” Eric's dad's brow is creased into canyons. “And you
pissed
all over it, and the Connelly name in the process.”
“I think the Connelly name will be fine,” Eric tells him.
(
It survived you committing a hate crime,
Eric thinks.)
(But he keeps his mouth shut.)
“It's not
just, like, a summer job
. It's another STEPPING STONE on the PATH to YOUR FUTURE.”
(
Ah yes. Right
.)
“Ann's word could have opened a lot of doors for you. Now you're starting from scratch again.” Eric's dad glares at him. “And if you think you're spending your summer lazing about, you have another think coming, Eric. If you want to live under my
roof, you're going to start taking YOUR FUTURE seriously.”
Eric sighs. “Look, I'll get a new internship, okay? I'm sorry I messed things up with Ann, but I just wasn't feeling that job. I want to do something, you know,
meaningful
.”
“Well, you're going to have to do something,” Eric's dad says. “And don't think I didn't notice that you snuck out last night.” Eric's dad doesn't move from the stairs. Doesn't let Eric by. “Wherever you spent the night, it won't happen again. You're grounded until I say otherwise.”
“Grounded?”
Eric nearly laughs in his face. “I'm
almost eighteen
. And how am I supposed to find an internship if I can't even leave the house?”
“You'd better find a way, Eric. We don't give free rides in this household.”
Yeah, right
, Eric thinks.
From what I've heard, free rides are a Connelly tradition.
But he doesn't say this part, either.
Not yet.
Grounded
, Eric tells Jordan.
And I'm supposed to find a new job. Except I can't leave the house, so . . .
Grounded?
Jordan texts back.
LOL. UR 18
.
That's what I said. It didn't help. Anyway, it's the middle of July. Everybody's internships are all mostly filled up.
What are you going to do?
Jordan asks.
I have no idea.
Eric sighs.
But I need to get out of here. I'm going insane in this house.
Eric languishes for a couple of days. Makes a lot of cold calls to, like, Legal Aid and such. Emails his résumé aroundâ
(avoids mentioning Ann in his cover letter).
It's slow going. It's soul-crushing. He'd rather be at the beach. Jordan's pool. Out on Jordan's boat.
(Hell, he'd rather be anywhere, but no dice. His mom and dad have him on lockdown.)
Then Jordan calls one day, early evening. “What are you doing?” he asks Eric. “I have a hookup for you. An internship opportunity.”
Eric's locked in his room in the basement, wondering whether to send a résumé to the Capilano Police Departmentâ
(wondering if that would be totally crazy).
“Great,” he says, reaching for a pen and some scrap paper. “Where? What's the deal?”
“I'll be there in five minutes,” Jordan says. “Be ready to go.”
Luckily, Eric's dad is at his office.
“I'm just going to check out a volunteering thing,” Eric tells his mom as he ties his shoes. “I know I'm supposed to be grounded, but I have a good feeling about this one.”
“You
are
grounded,” his mom replies. Then she sighs. “But I told your dad I don't see how you're supposed to find a job if he won't let you out of the house.”
Eric stands. “That's what I'm saying.”
“Come straight home,” Eric's mom says. Then she kisses him. “And good luck, sweetie.”
(Shit. Eric almost feels guilty.)
(Then he walks out the door and sees Jordan's BMW parked at the curb, and the guilt more or less disappears.)
Jordan leans over and pushes the passenger door open as Eric walks up. “Your dad give you any trouble?”
Eric shakes his head. “Working. I told my mom I had a lead on a job.”
“Perfect.” Jordan shifts into gear. “So let's get the hell out of here.”
The BMW seems empty without the girls in the backseat. “What's Haley doing tonight?” Eric asks.
Jordan cocks his head. “The fuck if I know. Out on a Tinder date, probably.” He glances over. Smirks. “Why? You wishing she was here?”
(
No
, Eric thinks.
Exactly the opposite, actually
.)
“This isn't for the girls,” Jordan says. “Not yet. This is just you and me, E.”
They drive up the mountain and take the highway on-ramp. Jordan puts his foot down, and the BMW's V-8 roars. It plasters Eric against his seat, and he can't help but smile as the car rockets forward, merges into traffic. Jordan slaloms around slower cars like they're pylons.
“Where are we going?” Eric asks, but Jordan's rapping along to some Drake song on the radio and doesn't answer. Eric's about to ask again, but then he notices the GoPro mounted on the dash.
“Dash cam,” Jordan says when he catches E looking. “Drivers around here, you can't be too careful.”
They take the highway east out of Capilano, swoop down across Memorial Bridge and into the suburbs. Jordan slows the BMW, takes the next exit, and bam, they're in Studio City, back lots and soundstages everywhere. Jordan navigates around a couple of equipment trucks, a few camera cars, and a trailer full of porta potties. He parks the BMW behind a long row of soundstages. The place is deserted.
“I wanted this to be a surprise,” Jordan tells Eric, “but I can't do it by myself. Anyway, after what happened at The Room, I know I can trust you.”
“Right,” Eric says. “So this
isn't
for an internship, then?”
Jordan points out the window. “There's my dad's guy,” he says. “Just follow my lead, okay?”
Eric looks out through the windshield as a pickup truck approaches. “Sure,” he says. “I mean, fine.”
Jordan's dad's friend is some shaggy-haired old guy in camouflage cargo pants and a black tactical vest. He says his name is Mike, and he looks Jordan up and down as they shake hands. “You Harrison Grant's kid?”
“That's my name,” Jordan sighs.
“Harrison Grant's kid.”
Then Mike looks at Eric. He doesn't look like he's sizing Eric up for an internship position. “Who's this?”
“This is E,” Jordan tells him. “He's a filmmaker.”
Eric blinks.
(
Follow my lead
.)
“Yeah,” he says. “I, uh, make movies.”
Mike looks at Eric like he doesn't believe it. Eric holds his stare and tries to look, you know,
artistic
. Finally, Mike shrugs. “So what do you guys need?”
“That's what we wanted to talk to you about,” Jordan says. “Mainly, we just need to blow something up.”
Eric tries to hold his poker face.
(
What?!
)
“How big?” Mike asks.
“
Big
. You're the demolitions guy, right? You can help us?”
Mike hesitates. Chews his lip. “Basically, you got a couple of choices. Obviously, you already know about nitro and TNT and dynamite. All have their pros and cons.”
“What about fertilizer?” Jordan says. “That's what all
those terrorists use, right?”
“You mean ammonium nitrate. Yeah, that's an option. You go that route, you're going to need a booster, like dynamite, anyway, so unless you're planning to build a bomb in a U-Haul truck, I would steer clear.”
Mike looks at Jordan like he's joking. Jordan doesn't smile back. “Okay. No fertilizer this time.”
“No fertilizer. That's a start.”
“We're looking for something compact,” Jordan says. “This is a little, you know, top secret. Guerrilla filmmaking, you know?”
“Sure.” Mike looks at Eric, who nods along, like he has a single remote clue what's going on here.
“We were going to do it in CGI,” Jordan says, “but we want that authenticity.”
“Fucking right,” Mike says, nodding. “If you want compact, you could always go with gunpowder. It doesn't detonate so much as deflagrate, but if you keep it in a confined environment, build the pressure, you can get a hell of a bang.”
“A confined environment.”
“Like a pipe bomb. The more pressure, the bigger the bang.”
Jordan grins at Eric. “That sounds like exactly what we're looking for.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. Peels off ten fifties. “So can you hook us up?” he asks Mike.
Mike looks at the cash. Hesitates. “You kids aren't planning anything dangerous, are you?”
“Hell no,” Jordan says.
Mike looks at Eric again.
“Hell no,” Eric says.