"Hey, you're Trey's brother, aren't you?" came a voice from across the street. Ryan debated ignoring the guy, looking down and moving on, because Trey's friends were always bad news.
The guy jogged a little to catch up to him, and Ryan blew his breath out in annoyance. "You're Ryan, right?" the guy said in a friendly manner, and Ryan looked up at him through his hair and gave him a tight smile. "Yeah. That's me."
"Uh, hi. I was just looking for Trey--I hadn't heard from him in a couple months, and I was in town anyway, so I thought I'd swing by and see how he was doing." The guy stepped back, as if sensing Ryan was itching for some room.
"He's in jail," Ryan said shortly.
"Oh." This didn't seem to surprise the guy. But then, Trey's friends were either in or out of jail themselves most of the time.
"Look, I have to go to work--" Ryan started.
"Oh, of course," the guy said, backing off even more. "Thanks for telling me. I mean, I figured it was something like that. With Trey, it's either that or the next best thing, right?" he said, offering a careful smile.
Ryan frowned, just a little. "Look, I don't know who you are--"
"Pacey," the guy said.
"Okay, Pacey, I'm sorry Trey's not around, but this probably isn't the best place for you to be hanging around looking for him. It's not a great thing to be Trey's friend, okay." Ryan shifted the bag on his shoulder and glanced quickly at his watch. If he sprinted, he wouldn't be late for the afternoon shift.
"Sure," said Pacey. "I just--I'm sorry to bug you. I'm only here for a job interview, anyway. I'm going back to the east coast on Thursday." Pacey smiled again, and Ryan felt his face softening a little.
"No, it's okay," he sighed. Taking a closer look, he saw Pacey's shirt was new, with no stains or rips, and was tucked into his pants that were obviously well taken care of. This wasn't Trey's normal brand of shithead friend. Ryan couldn't help but be curious about how they knew each other. Even so, he still had to get to work.
"Do you know of a place I could get a decent bagel?" Pacey asked, looking around the empty residential street. Ryan closed his eyes briefly. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling him to talk to this guy. "C'mon," he said gruffly. "I've got to go to work anyway."
Ryan set Pacey up at a little table in the corner of the cafe on the edge of the neighborhood, just far enough out of Chino to be attractive to risk-taking suburbanites and b-list socialites, but close enough that it attracted some locals. From there he could watch the people pass by the window. Plus, it was a decent bagel, all told. Pacey tapped his finger on the rim of his coffee mug, watching Ryan as he worked, determination marking every line of his body.
Ryan kind of reminded Pacey of Joey, really. From the little he'd talked to him, Ryan was focused on work and responsibility. The few words he'd managed to pry out of him about school and life were kind of bleak and depressing, but nothing Pacey wasn't really familiar with anyway. He knew that Trey's mom was an alcoholic and sometime druggie, and she had the worst taste in men; Trey had also been pretty open about how good his little brother was, even though Pacey knew Trey wasn't going to do anything to help him. He was too self-centered for that.
Pacey didn't mean to stay at the cafe for hours, but soon it was ten and things were beginning to close up. Ryan was wiping down the counter and tidying up the dessert window when he finally held Pacey's gaze and seemed to deflate slightly. He should really go back to his hotel, Pacey thought, but he wanted to know what happened to Trey, and it seemed like Ryan was ready to say anything just to get him to leave. It was a trick that worked with Dawson, sometimes. No one said Pacey wasn't persistent.
"So," Pacey said, walking with Ryan out the back door of the restaurant. Ryan kind of glared at him in resignation. "So, Trey tried to steal a car, got caught, ended up with 5-10 and no chance of parole for the first couple of years."
Pacey nodded, fixing his eyes to the ground. "He came to Capeside once, and I ran into him trying to steal some food from a store. We were seventeen and I was stupid, but not that stupid. I got him some food, we smoked up together, and thus a friendship was born." Pacey smiled wryly. "He went back to California bitching about the cold or something stupid, but he'd call me every once in awhile to shoot the shit. Nice enough guy, you know?"
"Yeah. I know," Ryan said, his face betraying nothing.
Pacey sort of sighed. "Look, man, I'm not trying to intrude on your life here. I mean, you've got a job, you're doing something. That's good. I don't know anything about you, other than you're Trey's little brother and he always wanted to look out for you, even if he did a shitty job at it. Is this what you want to do? Because I can help you, if you want. I know some people."
This time, Ryan full-on glared at him. "I was already stupid enough to get involved with Trey's friends," he said. "I'm sure as hell not gonna do it again."
Pacey was a little stunned, but then he figured out what Ryan was thinking, and started laughing. "I'm a chef, Ryan," he said, a smile creasing his face. "I'm not one of Trey's fucking drug dealers or carjackers. I came out here to interview for a restaurant they're opening in Newport--the Balboa Lighthouse."
It was like Ryan had been slapped, the way shock lit across his face.
"I'm sorry," Pacey said, confused. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Ryan said raggedly. "Nothing at all."
Pacey didn't believe him. He seemed more like Joey with everything he said--the defensiveness, the independence, the anger, the hurt. It was almost funny, how he couldn't escape her, even when he went all the way across the country. She was going to love this story, put it into her novel or something when he went back to New York and told her.
"Look," Pacey said, fishing a card Sandy Cohen had given him earlier from his pocket and scribbling his number on the other side, "call me if you need some help, okay? I know people in LA, in Orange County. I can help you get a better job, if you need it." He waited for Ryan to say something, but he was just looking at the printed side of the card where it read SANDY COHEN in dark, bold letters. "Okay, Ryan? I know Trey would want me to help you."
"Yeah, okay," Ryan said as if he were far away. "I have to go," he said shortly, unchaining his bike from a lamppost and pedaling off. Pacey sighed and pulled out his phone to call a cab. So much like Joey.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.