Licorice, 2

[sunsetsinthewes]

Author: sunsetsinthewes
Challenge: Licorice, 2. We all fall down
Extras: Whipped cream, brownie
Word Count: 8,726
Rating: PG-13 (for a lot of language)
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is Portrait of a Young Man.
Summary: Torey, after learning that David's about to become a father, vows to help. Nothing goes as planned.
Notes: This fic takes place in early February of 1999, and follows as a result of events in Meeting. David is sixteen and Torey is twenty-four. At this point in the timeline, Johnny is not officially out, though it's becoming common knowledge among siblings and friends. Anything in italics denotes spoken Italian, while anything in bold denotes emphasis. Hover your mouse over any foreign phrase for a translation. Huge thanks to subluxate.

***

Lately, David's temper and fits have been worse than ever before. Despite this, Torey chalks it up to the usual teenage angst and ignores him as much as he can. It isn't until the little shit snaps at Teresa for using his new shirt as a painting smock that he really takes notice. Granted, David immediately drops to his knees to beg for forgiveness, but the damage is done. Teresa slinks off to her studio after accepting the apology, and Torey decides to follow the kid.

"Fuck off," David snarls, realizing he has a tail. He kicks his door shut, nearly slamming it into Torey's nose as he does. "I said fuck off."

Nonchalant, Torey simply stops the door with his foot and breezes inside. "No. Not until you tell me what that was about."

David rolls his eyes, flopping onto his bed and pointedly picking up his remote. "I fucked up. Think I don't feel bad enough, you gotta come rub it in? She knows I didn't mean it, anyway. I'll make it up to her."

Torey crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. "Nope, not buying it. You never lose it with Teresa. Not once in your life. So the first time you do, it's over some cheap shirt? C'mon."

"It wasn't cheap." David jabs at the remote, flipping through the channels until he finds a game. He cranks the volume as loud as it will go, glaring when Torey merely unplugs the television. "Hey, what the fuck! I'm watching that, prick."

"You're not anymore. Look, I get it, you're sixteen. Life sucks and everything is pain and no one understands you. But for fuck's sake, I'm not that stupid. You've been acting like everyone's out to get you for weeks now. This Teresa thing is just the last straw." He steels his gaze. "Tell me. Or I'll make sure Ma hears about today."

"Is that supposed to fucking scare me?" David snaps, sitting up quickly. "You'll tell Ma? Christ, all my motherfucking life, that's all I've heard from you two. You'll tell Ma, you'll tell Teresa, you'll tattle on me to anyone that might give a shit. Holding it over my head like some fucking executioner's axe or shit. Fine, you wanna tattle to Ma? You really wanna tell Ma something? Tell the bitch she's gonna be a grandmother if you want to so bad. Now get the fuck out before I force you out."

It's a cliche, Torey knows, but for a second he truly does believe he simply misheard. "You're shitting me."

David gives a weary sigh, glancing away. "I'd give my left nut to be shitting you."

As this sinks in, Torey is hyper-aware of their surroundings-- the recent coat of navy blue paint on David's bedroom wall, the strip of sunlight cast across the bedspread, even how alien his own arms feel across his chest. Standing upright, he hesitantly crosses to the nearby futon and sinks down. "Jesus."

"No shit."

Torey licks his lips and thinks. There's no use reminding the kid that he's barely sixteen, not when he's been fucking for at least three years anyway. "How long've you known?"

"She told me about three weeks ago." David drops back, sprawling across the bed and fixing his eyes on the ceiling. "Dunno how long she's known. Long enough, I guess. We were going to take care of it, originally. Bitch tried to make me pay, can you believe that? She's the one that was supposed to be on the pill."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, David..."

"Well, she was! She told me so herself."

"What happened? You had a sudden attack of Catholic guilt?"

"Go fuck yourself, asshole." The fact that his heart isn't in the insult seems to be the first recognizable sign that he realizes how seriously he's fucked. "Cunt was sick or something. Guess they don't do it if you've got, like, a fever and shit. I don't know. Then she changed her mind and now she's refusing. Nothing I do-- money, violence, threats, nothing-- changes her mind."

Torey lets out a weary sigh and runs a hand through his hair. The mental image of his brother threatening-- or something worse-- some frightened, pregnant girl is enough to make him ill. "Who is she? Kendra from down the street? The fake blonde you've been bringing around? It's not one of the Botti sisters, is it? Christ, David, do I even know her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you fucking know her." David glances over, teeth clenched as he answers, "You know that bitch friend of Johnny's? Maggie?"

"Maggie Gilchrist?" Torey explodes, jumping to his feet. "David, don't you fucking lie to me. I swear to God, if this is some joke, I'll--"

"Fuck off!" David yells, hurling the remote across the room. "You think I'd joke about this? That slut is trying to ruin my life and you think that this is funny? Get the fuck out then!"

Fists tightening so hard that he thinks he may be drawing blood, Torey forces himself to slowly count to ten. "All right, fine. You're not lying, I believe you. But, Christ, David. She's twenty-two! You're still a kid! What the hell was she even thinking, going after-- that's illegal! She should know better than to fuck some kid by now, Jesus!"

"You know that party last year? The Homecoming weekend?" David closes his eyes as tightly as he can. "I ran into her on the way there. Got her to buy the booze for us all and she hung around for awhile. She had on this tiny black skirt, right? I mean tiny as fuck, I could already see everything. So we went back to her place for a few hours."

Torey has never before felt the urge to harm a woman. Even when it's business, he makes sure that it's quick and takes the personal time to give a vague confession to the priest. But now, feeling his chest tighten and his mind race, he wishes he had the cold-blooded instincts his coworkers possess. "That bitch. She knew--"

"It's because of Johnny, of course," David mutters. "She's been after his cock for years. Fucking gagging for the chance to be a real live Corlioni, you know I'm right. Whore wouldn't have trapped me if Johnny wasn't such a--"

"Don't." Torey's voice is hard and cold, the tone he uses when particular 'business partners' refuse to follow directions. "If you don't want me to break your nose right now, don't even say it. It's your fault, and you goddamn know it. You couldn't be bothered to protect yourself? I don't care what she said, you've got responsibility to yourself!"

David bites his lips, glaring at some point to the left of Torey. He doesn't answer-- what can he say?-- but he doesn't bother denying it either.

"Look." Torey forces his mind to slip into business mode, to compartmentalize his emotions while he deals with the situation at hand. He begins to pace, analyzing their options. "You're completely insane if you think I'm going to leave you to handle this alone, all right? So stop throwing tantrums and help me focus. I'll go talk to her, that's the first thing. See if I can convince her to change her mind, maybe give her a payoff in exchange for her silence. If she thinks Ma and Pop are willing to press charges for the statutory rape--"

"Hey! No one was raped, all right? I did what I wanted."

"Shut up for a second. If she thinks they will-- they don't even have to know, Maggie just has to think it-- then we can probably take care of this whole mess. If she insists on keeping the child, I can arrange to have her move out of state with a nice nest egg or something, maybe out to Cape Cod or Connecticut. There are a few discreet lawyers at the office, one of them can be bribed to draw up a contract saying we'll pay her an allowance every year so long as your name's not on the birth certificate or connected in any way." Torey quickly counts off on his fingers. "She's not showing, right? Then we're still in the clear. And if neither of those work--" Well, if neither option works, he can always have her taken care of, as loath as he is to do that. Of course, in the case of true desperation, he could always marry--

"You think I didn't try any of that shit?" David snaps, radiating anger. "I know you all think I'm too fucking stupid to join in your fucking meetings and deals, but I know how to handle myself."

"Clearly."

David ignores him. "I told you, I offered money. I threatened her. I offered to have Antonio pay her a visit, even. She didn't budge. Besides, it's a little more complicated." He casts his eyes downward, suddenly fascinated by the sight of his shoes. "I mean, look, you've seen her, right? She's hot. Porn star hot. And no fucking ignorant virgin either. You think I was going to keep that quiet?"

Torey stares at him, blinking in one slow maneuver. "You told people? Oh my God, David, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you brain-dead?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant at the time!" David forcefully protests. "Then she was just a hot twenty-two-year-old that let me fuck her tits, okay? Anyway, some of the guys on the team saw me talking with her last week and they made a couple comments. Now that she knows other people can verify her claims, she's, uh. She's coming clean to her parents. Once they're back from Europe, she wants to tell them."

"Oh, sweet mother of God," Torey snarls at the ceiling, and it's not a prayer. "Forget anything I said. You are that stupid and you don't know any better. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

David jumps to his feet, advancing. "Fuck off, oh holy one. You're not some spotless saint, you know! I've seen your parade of girls, I've heard you telling the same stories at the bar as all the other guys. Don't you fucking act like you're better than me, got that?"

Torey stands his ground, grateful for the remaining few inches of height he still maintains over the kid. His expression darkens and he spits out, "Yeah, I've dated. And, yeah, there have been a few girls. But I always-- always-- make sure to protect myself from something like this. This girl has been trying to slip her way into our family for over a decade and you believed her when she said she was on the pill. I swear to God, David, you should be lucky if this is the only thing that happened. And if you try to lay a hand on me, I will fight back. I'm not some weak ten-year-old with a giant little brother, not these days."

Taking one step forward which he immediately follows with a jerky retreat, David lets out a roar of frustration and spins on the wall, smashing his fist into the plaster and drywall. It seems to be enough, for now, as his anger slowly dissipates as he extracts his hand from inside the wall.

"Great. One more thing to break to Ma and Pop." Torey reaches for the kid's arm, inspecting his knuckles with a practiced glance. "Don't think you broke it. Small favor."

David stares at his hand with a removed look in his eyes. Gently flexing, he asks, "What the fuck am I going to do, Tore? She's got me. I'm completely fucked up the ass."

"Yeah, kind of." There's no point in sugarcoating it, especially not for him. "But it's not over yet. We'll just make sure Ma and Pop hear it from you before anyone else." A scoff. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking, especially Pop, but they're still your parents and you're still their kid. They'll help us fix this, all right?"

The silence stretches on for so long that Torey gives up on expecting a response. Just as he nods, sidestepping David and reaching for the door, he just catches a murmured, "Yeah. All right."

"Good. In the meantime, I'll see if sending Johnny over will help. Maybe he can talk some sense into her. Yeah, I know, but don't worry. I'll make sure he knows not to breathe a word." Torey casts an eye back into the room, the sight of a defeated David suddenly reminding him that, despite his baby brother's massive size and fierce independence, he's still just a scared little kid. "I'll be back by dinner. We'll tell them after."

"You, uh." David swallows hard. "You know how Pop gets, he never listens to a word I say, and Ma just gets pissed at me for no reason these days. You might want to stay. You know, in case there's bloodshed or something."

"Don't be dense. Of course I'll be there."

***

Johnny's not anywhere in the house, not that it's much of a surprise these days. At twenty-two, with a flourishing career and (just as flourishing, Torey assumes) social life, the guy hardly wants to hang around his mother's house any more than necessary. Once he's sure that Johnny's Mustang isn't in the driveway, Torey pulls out his phone and hits three on his speed dial.

"Yeah? What'dya want?"

"I need you to get over to the house. We've got a problem." Torey enters the house as he talks, heading toward the kitchen while keeping a sharp eye out for Teresa.

Johnny huffs. "'M busy. Thought you were comin' in this afternoon anyway. Just talk ta me then."

"Johnny," Torey insists, trying to keep his tone level. "This is serious. I can't use anyone but you on this."

"What is it?" he asks, with an edge of panic. "Everyone all right?"

Torey is quick to reassure him. "No one's hurt, if that's what you're thinking. Just get back here right away. Better yet, meet me at the corner. You can drive."

They hang up in their usual fashion, without another word spoken. Torey glances at the kitchen clock, reasoning that if their parents return by five, earlier if they decide to skip the matinée or if traffic is unusually light, that gives him plenty of time. There's a chance that this can be done and over with by dinnertime, though it's admittedly not likely.

"Mrs. Colvio?" Torey calls, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. "Mrs. Colvio? Are you out here?"

"Yes, yes, please stop your shouting. The plants hate the shouting, it makes them go nervous and turn brown." The tall, thin, and normally glamorous woman is covered in dirt, manure, and grass stains, but the smile on her face negates all of that. "Not even I can bring them back then."

Torey can't help but smile in return-- he's always loved their housekeeper's warm personality and infectious enthusiasm, especially when she's discussing her passion for gardening. "Good, glad you're still here. I didn't know if Ma gave you the day off or no."

Mrs. Colvio reddens slightly. "Your dear mother was good enough to give me the entire weekend off, piccolo. But the spinach fertilizing doesn't understand weekends and days off." She eyes him carefully. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing." Torey's reply is a little too quick to be believed, but she's kind enough to ignore it. "I've just got something to do. I'll be gone for a few hours and David isn't feeling well. Teresa's in her studio, of course, but I wanted to make sure someone would be around if she needed anything."

"That is why you yell?" Mrs. Colvio waves a trowel in his direction, scolding, "You worry too much, piccolo. I'll stay, I have plenty to do yet." A stained and mud-caked hand dismisses him with a flourish. "Go. Go now and try to have fun. You're too young to be so serious yet. I try to tell your father that all the time. Boys your age shouldn't have to be so serious. Now go."

Torey grins, leaning down to kiss her cheeks before racing back into the house. Grabbing his shoes, jacket, a wad of cash, he runs out the door and to the far corner to find Johnny already waiting.

"You didn't drive ninety-five the whole way here, did you?" Torey asks, slipping into the front seat. "This thing is a magnet for bored highway patrolmen."

"I gotta sharp eye. 'Sides, I take care a my baby, ya know that." Johnny pats the dash with a loving caress before shifting into drive. "Where are we goin'?"

"Next street over. We could have walked, but I think the sight of your car is going to be an asset," Torey admits. "Pull into the Gilchrist drive. Don't worry, the parents are in Europe so there's no driver to block you in or get too close to your pride and joy."

"Yeah," Johnny replies warily. "I know they're in Europe. Went over with Matt and the rest when they skipped out before Christmas." He glances at Torey out of the side of his eye. "So what'd Maggie do now? Explicit message on the family machine where 'resa could hear? Came by at three in the mornin' again and woke up Ma?"

"Not exactly." Torey sucks in a breath, anxiously tapping his finger against the passenger door. "For now, this is just between us, you got that? I'm not fucking around here, Johnny. This one is serious shit. I know you understand what it's like to have serious shit out there, and I know you wouldn't hurt someone in the same position. Right?"

"Yeah." Johnny's voice is gruff and he takes the left turn a little too hard. "I know what you're sayin'. Now, we gonna play twenty questions all day or are ya gonna fucking tell me?"

"Maggie's pregnant." Torey gives this a beat before continuing, "According to the both of them, it's David's."

They're still two houses away from the Gilchrist's, but that doesn't stop Johnny from slamming on the brakes. "What?"

Torey turns to face his brother, a defeated look in his eyes. "I know. Trust me, I know. But I just talked to the kid, Johnny. He's not fucking around about this. It's true."

"No." Johnny shakes his head vigorously. "No. No fuckin' way. No fuckin' way. You gotta be wrong. There's no motherfuckin' way."

Past experience tells Torey that this sort of mood needs to be waited out. He takes a moment to double-count his cash in the hopes that Maggie's price can still be found.

"Oh sweet Jesus Christ, there is no fuckin' way," Johnny hisses. His fingers wrap around the wheel until his knuckles are bright white. With his jaw so tightly clenched, he's slurring his speech even more than usual. "This ain't funny, Tore."

"You see me laughing?"

"What the fuck is wrong with that dipshit cuntrag son of a bitch?!" His voice is rising with each word, echoing through the car. Behind them, traffic begins to slowly build. "That goddamn cumstain, what the fuck was he thinking? He's sixteen motherfucking years old! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I'm going to wring his neck so hard his head pops off, and then I'm going to shove it up his ass." The honking horns of steadily disgruntled drivers rise to an overwhelming level. Johnny slams his palm on the button for the automatic window and pops his head out to scream, "Hey, motherfucking shiteating asshole! Yeah, you! Shut the fuck up or I'm going to come over there and break your spine with a fucking crowbar, how'dya like that? Yeah, I thought so, pussy-shit!"

"Johnny," Torey says gently, resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Get back in here and just drive. We don't have time for this." With a few choice words directed at the driving populous at large, Johnny obeys. As they jerk into the Gilchrist's drive, they agree to stop while out of sight in the bend leading to the house. "Look, you're pissed, I get that. I'm pissed as hell too. But that's not going to fix anything and as much as I want to at the moment, killing David's only going to make this worse. So take a deep breath and just let me finish." Once he believes Johnny is as calm as he'll ever be, he rushes through the rest of the explanations and takes care to remind them both that they're to change her mind and do nothing more.

"He always was a piece of shit," Johnny mumbles. "We shoulda realized he'd pull somethin' like this. Even as a goddamn baby he was a terror." He jabs a finger across the console. "You fuckin' untrustworthy liar. Ya tried to say that a little brother would be fine, but I fuckin' knew."

Torey rolls his eyes. "You're right, I did lie. All little brothers are massive pains in the ass. Now are you going to help me or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's not like Maggie deserves ta be deserted with the prick, either." Johnny guides the car toward the house, adding, "Gonna talk with her 'bout sleepin' with underage family. That shit ain't right."

"Focus, will you?" Torey's out of the car before they've completely stopped, scoping out the area for any sign of unwanted company. Once he's assured that they'll be alone for their talk, he leads the way up the front steps and makes a point of leaning on the doorbell until he hears footsteps. The door swings open with a bit more energy than he's expecting and he's abruptly provided with his first sight of Maggie in years. Tall, thin, and possessing a rare natural grace, her dark auburn hair is swept off her shoulders. The slim jeans and form-fitting cashmere sweater are an obviously deliberate choice, meant to enhance her every asset, and the simplistic and flawless makeup are a final touch of affected class. She may be easy to see through, but at least she'll probably create a cute kid.

"Johnny!" Oh God, did she just bounce? "I didn't think you were free this week, what a surprise." Maggie glances over, eying Torey for a moment before beaming. "God, Salvatore Corlioni, is that you? Christ, I haven't seen you since-- since Johnny and I graduated, right? Where have you been, you look great!"

"Working," Torey stiffly replies, stepping into the foyer without an invitation. "Moved. Got my own place a few years back." He glances around, pleased to find the place deserted. "Your parents are gone?"

Maggie makes a face. "Yeah, Mother's been obsessed with, like, Scotland or something. Scotland, right, like what the fuck is out there? But they're due back soon, so I'll be done with house-sitting duty. Oh, fuck, my manners. You two want a beer?"

"Not really here for a social visit, Mags," Johnny interrupts. Torey's disgusted to see the girl pout-- an actual fucking pout-- but she shrugs and leads them into the sitting room.

"Okay. What's up?"

Torey chooses to remain standing while the other two sink onto the couch with an air of extreme familiarity. "Cut the shit, Maggie. You know why we're here."

Maggie's smile fades in an instant. "He told you? Both of you? Gotta say, last time I talked to him I didn't think he'd have the balls." She shrugs. "Go figure. Well, in that case, let's set the dinner for Friday. I'm free, and I'd like to take the time to figure out what our detailed plans are. Before my parents return. Of course, David being underaged fucks things up a little, but that's why we'll have your parents there with us. How's eight?"

Flabbergasted, Torey reminds himself to keep his expressions neutral in order to deny her the reaction she clearly wants. "Are you fucking serious."

Johnny quickly raises a hand to cut them off. "Look, I get it, Mags, this is a stressful situation and the complications ain't helpin' anyone. But we're not here for dinner plans. C'mon, you're not seriously thinkin'a keepin' this baby, are ya? That's fuckin' ridiculous."

"Don't you tell me what's ridiculous, Johnny. I know exactly what this is and I'm not going to be bribed or threatened into getting rid of it." Maggie shoots each of them with a defiant stare. "I'm fucking old enough for this, that's for sure, and besides, you know damn well that I'm Catholic. I won't kill it. I can't."

"Wait, whoa, David threatened--"

Torey hardens his glare, setting his shoulders and firming his stance in a blatant show of will and strength. Two can play that game. "Oh, sure, the devout Catholic now. And what were you when you were fucking our underage brother? Or is this the kind of spiritualism that fades in and out?"

"Fuck you." She purses her lips, averting her eyes. "You won't press charges, don't think I don't know that. For one, David would never agree to it, not when he considered it consensual. As for legal recourse, you three certainly don't have it. So if you're both here to try to force me into a decision, just give it up. I already know what I want. Now that I finally have the opportunity to get it, no one is going to stop me."

"Ya wan' the kid so bad?" Johnny pipes up. "Fine. Good for ya, ya don't need a man and all that feminist shit. We can make sure ya have a nice house in the tri-state area. We'll set up an annual-- no, monthly-- allowance for expenses. You're such an adult, Mags, ya should be fine alone."

Maggie cautiously and deliberately places a hand over her abdomen. "He helped make this baby. He's just as responsible. He could have stopped things at any time. I didn't create this-- this-- life alone and I'm not going to raise it alone. David's a good Catholic boy and I'm a good Catholic girl. He'll do the right thing, I trust him." Her eyes sparkle. "Besides, you wouldn't abandon a Corlioni child, would you?"

Devious. She's beyond devious and clearly much more prepared for them than they are for her. Of course, she has been working toward this exact moment since she was six and playing house with Johnny.

Torey sucks in a sharp breath and hisses, "You bitch. He's sixteen, do you get that? He's a child, not some sick prop for your game. You're going to ruin his life before it's even begun. What the fuck do you expect to achieve from this?"

Slowly, her eyes never leaving them, Maggie stands. "I think it's time you leave. Let David know that I'll be in touch. And Torey? Johnny?" She faces them directly, determination etched in her every facial feature. "Don't you fucking dare coime back here like this. I'm not the only one at fault here and I'm not going to have you bullying me, is that clear? Neither of you are better than me. Not any more."

"Fuck you."

"You come here again, Torey, and I'll make sure that the gardener isn't on a convienent lunch break." Stepping past them, she strides into the foyer and opens the door. "Now leave. The next time I see you, Johnny, I hope it's in better circumstances. We're going to be relatives soon, not just pretend anymore. No reason to let all these hard feelings get in the way." With that, she closes the door behind them, lock clicking into place with undeniable finality.

Torey rolls his shoulders in an effort to ease the mounting tension, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't actually expect that to work, but I sure as fuck hoped that getting you involved would maybe change--"

"Fuck." Johnny kicks at a nearby pillar, then once more for good measure. "I can't believe her. I mean, yeah, Mags was always a little cutthroat in school and competitions, but this is just fuckin'-- it's like she planned this."

"Johnny..." Torey shakes his head. "I'm willing to bet that was only the beginning. We'll be better off if we limit contact entirely, denying her any chance to gather extra ammunition."

Johnny shakes his head quickly. "No. I know she sounded kinda batshit in there, but it's probably the stress and, ya know, pregnancy hormones or somethin'. Ya know how women get when they're pregnant. She probably don' even realize what she sounds like. She's still my friend, Tore. I'm not gonna completely abandon her when she needs help." He heads down the steps and toward the car, putting an end to the discussion. "I'll give her some time alone, yeah. But she'll calm down, an' I'll talk with her then. In the meantime, David's just gonna have to step up for once in his life."

***

Shortly after they arrive home, Johnny takes off, claiming that someone will need to slog through their work if Torey plans to stay at the house. They agree to meet later in the evening and he shuffles through the front door calling, "Hello?"

"Torey?" Teresa appears at the top landing, splattered from head to toe in vibrant paint. She skips down the stairs so quickly that she nearly barrels into him, excitedly chattering all the while, "I'm almost done! I only have a few touch ups and the shading isn't quite right, but it's almost done! C'mon, you gotta see it!" She wraps a hand in his, tugging him along. "Hurry, while the light is still right!"

Laughing despite himself, Torey lets her lead him into the studio. It's a converted attic, surrounded by large bay windows and a small balcony, but the space is wide, airy, and perpetually sunny. It's a strictly enforced rule that no one enters without Teresa's permission, especially while she's working, so he has to admit that he's surprised by all the subtle changes to wall designs and work stations. He takes his time investigating the room, noting the new addition of an orchid in the corner, as Teresa flies to her easel and prepares the unveiling.

"Okay, stand back there. You'll be far enough away and the light is perfect." She hefts the canvas into her arms, adding, "Remember, it's only almost done, so imagine it's all shaded and everything." With a flourish, she spins the painting around and instantly captures Torey's breath.

The subject is David, which isn't unusual in itself, but he can't recall ever seeing his baby brother quite like this. He's poised on a field, dressed in his football uniform minus only his helmet, and appears to be caught frozen in action while still moving. There's such a detailed idea of wind in his hair that Torey can feel the breeze, and the smell of the fluttering grass is so pungent he originally attributes it to the orchid. There's something more to the painting than the purely anatomical skill and transplantation. The expression on David's face is one he can't recall ever seeing-- carefree, open, spirited, and tender. Complete. Torey wonders for a moment if this is how David appears to their sister at all times.

"Oh Teresa..." Torey breathes. He takes a slow step back and then to each side, eager for every angle. "Teresa, this is amazing. It's-- it's not just a portrait of David. It almost is him. I've never seen your work like this."

Teresa brightens, rolling onto the balls of her feet. "You really like it? It's sort of a new technique-- no, a new approach for me. After that class with Herr Schtukrad, it was like a whole new way of seeing things." She bites her lip, glancing down. "I hope David likes it. It's going to be for when he goes to football practice in the spring. He's going to be starting this year, you know. That means that he's going to in the game first, and he'll be most important."

"I know, honey. You've told everyone at least a few dozen..." Torey trails off, reminded of the complete unknown that is David's future at the moment, including something as trivial as high school football. "Let's keep it from him for awhile. Make it a big surprise."

"Great idea!" Teresa carefully replaces the canvas. "He loves surprises, he'll go crazy about this. Make sure you don't tell anyone else, though. Some people are bad with secrets." She nods sagely before eying her clothes and pulling a face. "I'm going to go wash up. Will you help me with math after? I'm still bad at fractions."

"Of course." Torey watches her sink down the stairs and disappear beneath the floor. As he waits for her return, he finds himself drawn to the painting. As he systematically inspects each inch, he murmurs, "Well, someone's on your side, David. You lucked out there."

***

Dinner that night is a lengthy affair. His acceptance of an invitation to stay delighted both his parents and Mrs. Colvio, and together they worked to create a masterpiece out of chicken and red wine. David's silent through most of the meal, giving their mother only clipped answers to her questions and ignoring most of the conversation entirely. He is, of course, overly polite and cheery with Teresa, but even that seems to have a hollow ring to it.

"That was amazing," Torey gushes, already regretting those extra few bites. "I almost forget how nice the dinners here are."

"Well, son, don't let us keep you from visiting all you like, "Augusto tells him, pushing his own plate away. "If it weren't for the office, I'd think we hadn't seen each other in months."

"Since Christmas," Martina interjects. She smiles, leaning forward to pat his hand. "Not that I keep count, of course." She rises and begins to collect the dirty dishes before Torey can stop her.

"Ma, sit down," Torey insists, taking the stack from her arms. "Relax. David and I can clean up tonight."

"What?" David complains. "Why are you volunteering me, I didn't do anything."

"David," he hisses, shoving an empty wine glass across the table with a pointed look. Turning back to his parents, he continues, "There's something that we should talk about, actually. Maybe in the living room?"

Martina's eyes flicker to Teresa and she nods. "Of course. Teresa, sweetie, will you go upstairs and call Johnny for me? He's supposed to come to dinner this week and I need to know the details. We'll be down here talking."

"Okay, Mama."

They clear the table, waiting until they're alone before David hisses, "I changed my mind."

"David..."

"No, I change my mind. I'm not telling them." He drops a casserole dish onto the counter with more force than necessary. "We'll hire someone to deal with her and once she's gone, there'll be no more problems."

Torey can't help but feel a little sympathy for the kid. "Look, I know. I get why you're terrified, but we've been over this. People already know. We can't eliminate her when everyone knows she has a connection to you."

David narrows his eyes, turning away. "Fine. But fuck you, I'm not terrified."

Due to their joint reluctance to break the news to their parents, Torey is hardly surprised when the clean up is finished in record time. After procrastinating for as long as they feasibly can, they exchange a silent look and make their way to the living room. Their mother and father are lounging comfortably on the couch, leaning into one another as they quietly chat. At the sight of her boys, Martina smiles and gestures them over.

"Now what is all this about?" she asks casually, eyes flitting between them. "You've been so tense all evening, the both of you. Come, come. Let it out."

Neither of them sit. "There's something David needs to tell you."

David gives Torey the finger out of the sight of the others, eventually managing, "The thing is, there's this problem. And something happened, and now I'm sort of fucked."

"Language," Martina chastises. "What's happened?" She straightens, suddenly rigid. "Oh, Lord, they're not trying to expel you again, are they?"

"What? No!" David's tone is indignant, his arms folded across his chest. "Though it's great to know that you think that's such a worry. Jesus."

Augusto raises a silencing hand. "It has happened before. Twice. It's not out of the realm of poss-- oh for god's sake, David, you didn't crash the Rolls again, did you? You just finished paying off the last repairs. How many joyrides will it take to--"

"No! God!" He's incredulous, gaping at his parents. "What the hell, I didn't crash anything! How can you just assume--"

"David..."

"You can't blame us for assuming the worst when you sit us down like--"

"I'll have you know I'm doing great in school and haven't been in a fight since last week! Not that either of you seem to think I'm capable--"

"Bambino, be reasonable. In the past year you've totaled two cars-- only one belonging to us-- you were nearly kicked out last year after that incident in the church-- don't think I've forgotten that--"

"David, maybe..."

"Of course you haven't forgotten! You never let things go. You're still blaming me for things I did as an infant! I've grown up since then, you know!"

"David, you will lower your tone when talking to your mother, do you understand me? You show her the respect she deserves. How can you possibly expect us to believe you've matured when just last week you were so drunk I had to pick you up at a club in Manhattan?"

"You did what--"

"Bullshit! That's such hypocritical bullshit! You never show me any respect, why should I respect you?"

"David!"

"No, it's true! You treat me like some fragile child all the time! You wouldn't let me go skiing in the Alps with my friends because I was too young! You won't even try bringing me into the business and meetings even though Torey and Johnny were both going on deals before they were my age!"

"We can't trust you to be an adult when you act like a child!"

"Oh yeah?" David snarls, his English crisp and clipped. "I got a girl pregnant, you know! She's keeping it, too. Still think of me as a child?"

Without even thinking, Torey steps between his parents and brother, slapping him across the face with enough force to send David reeling. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

After such loud arguing, the sudden silence is deafening. They all stand frozen in place like some sick and dysfunctional tableau. Torey's not sure if they would have ever moved if it weren't for Teresa's timid call breaking their spell. "Mama?"

"Oh, me baiser sur le côté." David lets out a groan, dropping his head into his hands. "Ma, I didn't mean--"

Martina awkwardly flutters a hand against her side before coldly stepping around her son. "I'm coming, Teresa."

"Wait, Martina," Augusto tries. "Don't--"

"I'll be upstairs with my child," she replies without turning back. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Torey, I'd like a word with you in a few minutes." She hurries up the stairs, leaving Torey to tentatively nod in agreement.

"How long?" Augusto finally asks, voice hard.

David sinks to the floor, leaning against an arm chair and propping his arms on his knees. "Homecoming weekend. S-she told me a few weeks ago."

Augusto gives a curt nod, eying Torey. "And you? How long have you known?"

Torey lifts his hands in surrender. "Just since this morning."

"Of course." Augusto glances skyward, silently muttering. "How could this happen?"

Scoffing, David snaps, "You should know by now, you've done it enough times." His expression crumbles ever so slightly. "Fuck, I-- God, I fucked up."

Perhaps it's the sight of David in such a vulnerable position or perhaps it's the sound of the cold, desolate realization in his voice, but Augusto lets it slide. "You have. Torey, I think your mother will be looking for you now."

Torey jumps at the opportunity to escape, taking the stairs two at a time. He bumps into Teresa as she's leaving the master bedroom and grabs her shoulders to keep her from toppling over. "You okay?"

She nods slowly, eyes wide with confusion. "Is David okay? Everyone was yelling really loud."

"David will be fine," he promises. "You know how he likes provoke. He always ends up okay."

"Yeah, but..." Teresa bites her lip, eyes watering. "But Mama's really mad. She didn't want me to ask about David." She leans in, pressing her face against his chest. "I don't like when everyone's mad."

"Shhh. I promise you. It's going to be fine. And do I ever break my promises?"

Teresa smiles slowly, shaking her head. "No. But is it okay if I stay in the studio?"

He agrees wholeheartedly, seeing his sister up the stairs before gathering his resolve and knocking on the bedroom door. His mother sits perched on the edge of the bed, fingers tightly clenched in her lap, lips pursed so tightly that he can no longer see their color. She casts him a disinterested look before turning back to the wall. "Ma?"

"Sit." This time, he obeys. "There is obviously much going on in my own home I am unaware of. Since you seem to have all the answers, you can tell me."

He wavers. "Ma, I don't know if it's my place to--"

"I apologize for making it seem like you had a choice."

Torey quickly runs through a mental list of insults to later call David. As he struggles to find the words to begin, Martina remains as still as marble. It's the sight of her unflinching anger, the fact that she doesn't seem to even be blinking or breathing, that causes him to bend. "I just found out this morning, myself." There is no response. "Uh, as far as I know, David found out a few weeks ago. They conceived in November, sometime around Homecoming. She's planning to keep it so far."

"So far?" Martina cocks an eyebrow. "Torey, I should think my own sons are aware that abortion is not an option. If what I'm being told is all true and no test says otherwise, and if David is the father, then he'll be expected to take responsibilities. If this is his child, it is his to raise. There are no questions about that." She crumbles, ever so slightly. "I would have thought that I taught my own sons better than this, but I apparently I've failed there too."

"No, Ma, don't--" Torey reaches a hand out, clasping her own. "It's a little more complicated than that. He was under the impression that she was on the pill, which doesn't excuse a damn thing on his part, I know. But I-- we think it was deliberate. That she meant for this to happen. The age difference doesn't really dissuade--"

"Who is she?"

Torey can't meet her eyes as he mumbles, "Maggie Gilchrist. Johnny's friend from around the corner."

The angered cry that escapes her is bone-chilling, "That's not a girl, that's a woman! My bambino, that stubborn, thick-headed sack."

"Ma!"

"He's smarter than this. I taught him better than this!" Martina jerks to her feet, pacing as she rants. "If he hadn't been so stubborn, so insistently self-destructive, if he had thought for one moment-- if I hadn't let your father and his example-- that whore, with my child? Tricking him like that? I warned Johnny that she wasn't to be trusted, and now look at what she's done! Ruining my child's entire future for her obsessive whims."

"Ma. Ma." Torey lightly grasps her shoulders, stopping her frantic activity. "Calm down. Take a breath. Nothing is ruined, okay? Just changed. I'm sure if we all take a little time to think and discuss this, we'll figure out a way to make it work. David can still have his life, Ma. He'll still go to school and get that masters, we can figure out a plan."

Martina lets out a bitter laugh. "School, Salvatore? That boy has a family to support now. There's no time for school. Or football, or masters, or abroad studies in Switzerland. No, this is now the time for work and marriage. It is time to grow up. He wants to be an adult, he will be an adult."

"W-what?" Torey furrows his brow, unable to comprehend what he's just heard. "Ma, that's not-- you can't mean that. He's sixteen! You're not seriously suggesting that he get married at sixteen? That he quit school? That he toss everything aside over one mistake? Think about this for a moment, there's got to be--"

"Oh, he's going to finish high school, Torey. He'll finish on time if it takes me beating the knowledge into him." Martina spins at him. "He was old enough for sex. He was old enough for the responsibility of creating this baby, he is old enough for the responsibility of caring for it. And we can speak with your father, since it's clearly time to integrate him in the office."

"Ma, what she did, though, what Maggie did, that's illegal. She's much too old. He's too young to legally consent. If you and Pop press charges against her, she'll be gone. We can take custody of the child. Then--"

"No." Martina softens slightly, reaching up a hand to brush a lock of his hair from his face. "No. Besides, it's far too late for this family to start adhering to the law. You know as well as I do that marriage is the right thing for them and the child. David will make this legitimate."

Torey finds his mind drifting back into the studio, to the painting of the brother he wasn't sure he knew. He's convinced that if he lets this happen, that boy will be gone forever. "Fine. But I'll find a way to make this work and then you're going to have to listen."

Martina gives no acknowledgment as he leaves the room, the click of the door echoing between them.

***

It takes two long, tension-filled hours before Martina will agree to speak to David. By this time Johnny's arrived with a pile of printouts for apartment listings given to him by the realtor. The men pass the time arguing over possible locations and the benefits of rent control. When David slinks up the stairs, Torey leans over their stack of highlighters to mutter, "Ma's planning to have him make this legitimate."

Augusto raises his head in interest. "A marriage?" He eyes the stairs. "Is she sure that's the wisest decision at this point?"

Torey shrugs. "She wouldn't listen to a word I said. I mean, for fuck's sake, he's a kid, baby on the way or no. He still has a shot at what he wants."

Johnny furiously crosses out another selection. "I think Ma's got a point. It's about time the bastard stepped the fuck for once."

"You're joking, right?" Torey drops his pen halfway through making a note. "Strapping him with some bitch he already hates, for the rest of his life? Ruining everything for him before he even gets started?"

"Look, that 'bitch' is also a friend of mine, so just lay off--"

"He's your brother!"

"And like that's ever meant shit between us," Johnny snaps back. "I'm not sayin' Maggie's some innocent or anythin'. But neither's David. Won' kill him ta do the honorable thing. I mean, a child outta wedlock? This family's still Catholic, right? That's still a sin, Pope didn't change his mind yet?"

"Wedlock?" Torey shoots back. "You're fucking kidding me. You, the champion of marriage when you can't even--" He stops himself just in time, eying his father and noting the spark of fear in Johnny's eyes. "You know as well as I do that sins are never so cut and dry. For god's sake, David could actually do something if he had half a chance. He could get a doctorate, he could completely change the face of law as we know it! Who the fuck knows what he could do for the business with a little training. Instead, you want to tie him to a woman he has no feelings for and send him straight to the office out of high school?"

Augusto makes no move to either interrupt them or leave, clearly enthralled by the show they're putting on.

"Take your head outta your ass and go fuck yourself, Torey," Johnny snarls. "Ya remember that I went straight into the business from high school, don' ya? Like to think I'm doin' fuckin' fine. Oh, sure, I'm not doing somethin', but it's not like my fuckin' life ended. He'll get the fuck over it." Standing so quickly that he knocks over a chair, he begins snatching papers off the table with so little heed to care that more than a few rip. "Ya know somethin'? You're no fuckin' better than me an' I can guarantee the little cunt-licker sure as fuck ain't. Ya wanna mock me for thinkin' parents should be married, go ahead. But it must be real fuckin' nice ta be able ta." He leaves without another word, slamming the front door behind him.

"What the hell was he just talking about?" Augusto asks after a moment.

Torey lets out a long-suffering groan, dropping his head onto the table with a thud.

***

That night Torey decides to stay rather than try to drive home. It's almost three-thirty in the morning before he can be sure that everyone is asleep. His pop's in the guest room for the night, something Torey figures he's better off not knowing about, and his mother's door is closed and secure. Creeping into the hall and making sure to step over creaking floorboards remembered from childhood, he softly knocks on David's door.

"Fuck off!"

"It's me."

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?" There's a shuffling sound followed by the appearance of a crack in the door and David peers out, hissing, "Still fuck off!"

Torey catches the door and blocks it, and the deja vu feeling is not lost on him. "Stop jerking it and just listen for a second. I've got something to show you."

David pisses and moans for a moment before finally relenting, so long as Torey leaves him alone. "What is it?"

"Just c'mon already, will you?" Christ, he has to make everything difficult.

Torey guides him to the studio's entrance, gently twisting the knob and gesturing for to enter. David glares at him, of course, and refuses to budge. "That's Teresa's space. We don't go in there unless she says, all right? So fuck off and leave her stuff alone."

Biting back a string of curses, Torey hisses, "Look, this is about you and Teresa anyway, so just get going already. Besides, if anyone's allowed inside, it's going to be you."

"Well, yeah." David wavers for a few moments, finally giving Torey the dirtiest look he can manage. "Fine, But just this once. I'm telling her to get a lock."

"Fine. Jesus. Just go."

It's pitch-black in the room and to be honest, Torey can't remember enough of the layout to find a lamp. David watches as he blindly staggers around, waiting until immediately after he stubs his toe on a slab of marble to walk unencumbered and switch on the light.

"Fu--" Torey rubs his toe. "You couldn't do that any earlier? Forget it, just forget it. Over here."

The painting is still on the easel, though by now there's elaborate shading to enhance the rest of the image. With its subject beside him, Torey can almost find a hint of the portrait reflected in real life-- if he squints.

Shoving him into place, Torey gestures with a motion that doesn't seem to do the moment justice.

David stares. "Oh fuck you, Torey. What, you heard Ma tell me to quit so now you're getting in one last joke? Jesus, I'd expect this from Johnny, but--"

"What? No!" Torey starts, holding him in place. "Look at it, will you? Don't just glance." With his hands on David's shoulders he can feel the release of tension at the moment of realization.

"Shit," David breathes. "Shit. Fuck, Teresa did this? I don't-- it barely looks like me. It looks, you know, great." He steps forward, one gentle finger sliding along the paint.

"Nah. It's you," Torey corrects. "It's not the snotty teenage kid that I know, yeah, but I still think it's you. It's just what she sees."

David snorts sarcastically. "At least that's one thing I'm not fucking up."

Torey sucks in a deep breath. "I thought you should see it. I mean, look, I know shit about art and everything. But it's pretty obvious that this is what she sees when she looks at you. We might even all see it, if you stopped being such a prick sometimes. Don't think that's likely to happen if Ma gets her way on the marriage thing." He helplessly shrugs. "No matter what happens, though, just make sure that Teresa never stops seeing that person in the portrait. You both deserve it."

Apparently dumbfounded, an event extremely rare for David, he stays silent. Torey accepts that for all the volumes it speaks, turning to the stairs in order to leave the boy alone.

One hand on the rail, he pauses. "I'm sorry today didn't work out. But, hey, it's not all shit. Right?"

***