Chapter Twenty-Three
"I'm tellin' you, he said it was on his left ass cheek."
"I can't picture him getting a tattoo on his ass."
"But that's what he told me."
"When? When did he tell you this?"
"A long time ago."
"I think if any of him knew him really well it'd be me, considering."
"It's not like you were B-F-Fs, yanno... he could've told the rest of us shit he didn't tell you."
"I'm gonna go for a smoke."
"No, dude, you gotta help me out with this."
"I need a smoke first."
"Ugh. C'mon guys, someone's gotta help me prove it..."
The hushed conversation seemed far away. My head was throbbing like a club beat. I groaned and moved and heard scurries and a bang, and Nick let out a yelp. I stretched, and lifted my head groggily. Nick was sitting on the floor in a pile of stuff he'd knocked over, Brian was perched in a complex position by my feet, and Howie was standing a couple steps back from my head. AJ was no where to be seen. I glanced at each of them. "What in the hell are ya'll doing?"
"Nothing," Brian replied, dropping back to the couch. That all looked like cats who had swallowed canaries.
If I wasn't so dizzy, I would've pressed the subject, but as it was, I could almost feel the bus swirling around like an olive in a martini glass. God - no, the last thing I wanted to think about was alcohol. I had consumed more than enough. I could barely remember the poker game with Nick - it was very hazy. But then again, given the fact that he and I were both in clothing, it evidently hadn't been a full game anyways. I was missing a sock and was down to my boxers and an undershirt. Nick was in boxers and socks.
"What happened?" I asked.
"You guys both passed out," Brian replied.
"He passed out first," Nick squeaked from the floor. Apparently hang overs did not impede his competitveness.
"By like a nanosecond," Howie ammended.
Nick shook his head, "Nuhh uhh, I had time to notice he was passed out before I did."
Brian laughed, "Yeah you said dude he tipped over, then tipped over too."
I sat up and rubbed my head. "I feel like shit," I announced.
"Wanna finish the game?" Nick asked.
"Nick," Brian's voice was a warning tone.
"What? I wanna see if --"
"Nick." Brian's voice was stern and cut him off. Nick shut up.
"See if what?" I asked.
"Nothing," Brian replied, "Nick's being retarded."
"I'm being retarded?" Nick demanded, "It's you a Chachi out there that think the dead can come back from the dead like zombies but not really...ya'll are fucking bonkers."
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing," Brian answered me. He looked at Nick, "Shut the hell up."
"Why don't you just ask him?" Nick demanded, "If you think you're so right why don't you just ask him?"
"Because --"
"Ask me what?"
"Nothing." Brian's voice was firm. "Nick, just butt the fuck out will you?" A general silence permeated the air. Brian had said the F-bomb and thereby commanded all authority. It was a good card to play.
I glanced at my watch. It was nearly three in the morning. "I probably missed the roadie van, huh?"
"They left a long time ago," Howie answered.
AJ returned, "Hey you're up," he said, looking at me. He looked at Nick on the floor, staring at his hands, and Brian, who was kneeling on the couch still, his hair poking up every which way, looking at Nick with an expression that I imagined Alexander the Great probably wore as he conquered all of Asia. "What the hell happened?" AJ asked.
"Brian won't just ask Ben if he's --"
"SHUT UP NICK!" Brian yelled.
"If I'm WHAT?" I shouted.
"Kevin! If you're Kevin!" Nick's voice carried over yet another round of Shut Up from Brian, and the minute he got the words out all four of the Boys fell into complete and utter silence, staring at me, waiting for a response.
I laughed, "Um... what?"
"Are you Kevin in disguise? Pretending to be someone else and like spying on us? Is that a mask?" Nick asked, "Because these are all theories that Sherlock and Watson here came up with during our Top Secret Meeting yesterday..." He thumbed at Brian and AJ, who both were bright red in the face now. "Did you go on the witness protection program or something? Are you a secret agent in the FBI? Are you a mirage? Maybe we all dreamt you."
"Nick shut the hell up, we never said any of that shit," AJ snapped.
"You said the part about him being Kevin."
"Yeah but none of the secret identity stuff," Brian argued.
Nick looked at me. "Well?"
"But Kevin died," I stammered. "You said so," I added, pointing at AJ. "So did you." I pointed at Brian. "How the hell can you think that I --"
Brian sighed, "We think he died. I mean they couldn't identify the body."
"His wallet," Howie reminded Brian. "They found his wallet."
"Wait. I know how to solve this!" Nick cried, "Ben... Do you have a wallet?"
"What?"
"Nick, he could've bought a wallet in two years time I mean Jesus Christ," AJ groaned, rolling his eyes at Nick.
"The wallet could've been on anyone's person," Brian snapped, "It could've been anyone they dragged out of that river. You don't know it was Kevin!"
"And why the hell did he wait until now to show back up? Why the hell didn't he come back before, like the next day, after his wallet got stolen?" Howie snapped back.
"I - I don't know!" Brian yelled.
It was like they'd forgotten I was even there. I stared blankly ahead at them as the four of them started bickering loudly, Nick shouting over them all that it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard and AJ arguing that Kristin had said I reminded her of Kevin and Howie yelling the word wallet and identification over and over and Brian reasoning how a wallet could've been stolen... and I just sat there, staring at them. My mind was racing, my heart beating fast. A Backstreet Boy? Me? My mind couldn't wrap around the concept. Yet they'd come to this conclusion all by themselves, without even knowing my backstory, without me having told any of the four of them about the amnesia, about the Center, about anything.
Was it possible that I was Kevin Richardson?
After Self by Pengi
