"Im not comfortable with this," whispers Sam, "I mean, mom knowing and all."
"Don't worry 'bout it," whispers Jake, "In about sixty seconds, I'm gonna push you really hard against that bookshelf."
"So," Sharon said, and Cardiff is coming back to her now, back before all the drugs and that "strategic marriage" of hers, "How have you been?"
She's only half-paying attention to the camera. It will take her sons a few minutes to get somewhere damaging, anyways, at this point it isn't even close to Ofcom's "watershed" content, and, to be honest, Peter is looking quite handsome, his sideburns flecked with grey, and he's a doctor, I mean after being stuck with a copier salesman all this time, that's food for thought.
"It's drafty in this old house," she says, wincing at the bad excuse to close the door on the room they're in.
He looks at her, uncertain.
"I was married, you know, Sharon. She died. I have a son."
"Don't we all," she says, glancing at Sam and Jake doing some sort of roughhousing, laughing, and wonders if it's a little off that she finds it somehow erotic. It must just be Peter, the love of her teenage years, the only light in that existence in the 'Estates,' what a name for that horrible place.
She leans in and tries to kiss him, which he dodges.
"Trust me," whispers Jake again, and presses a hand against Sam's stomach, Sam looks down and sees the 'VW' logo glinting in the dim light on the key.
"What are you going to-"
Before he can complete his phrase, Jake pushes him, hard, which, even though he was warned, knocks him right off his feet, into the bookshelf with a crash.
"Owwww, why'd you do that!?"
But Jake has dragged him to his feet and pulling him so hard he thinks his arm is about to come off.
Sharon is peering into Peter's eyes, and it's starting to make the man a little uncomfortable. The feelings just aren't what they were, god, that hurts, how many years ago was that? And she just up and disappeared on him one day. He cried for weeks because of that, and now she just re-appears, thinking somehow fate must be at work? No, things don't work out like that.
"Shit," he said.
"What?" she replied with a giggle, but then notices he's looking at the TV. Static.
"No, the wiring must be wet, it's not quite put tog-"
There was a loud click.
"What was that?" she asked him.
They look at each other and then at the door.
"Shit," he repeats.
And the voice from the other side.
"The next time you plan on hiding a camera...turn off the fucking red light, ya stupid fuck! We trusted you...you dumb bitch."
Peter rushes to it and pounds on it, stupidly demanding they open the door, like, only in the movies would someone actually be stupid enough to open it, and this is a solid oak door, could throw a pissed-off gorilla at it and it wouldn't break. No windows, just the door, and they were stuck.
"Pay dirt!" says Jake. He's found the 'stash' - several dozen bottles, percocet, xanax, thorazine, valium, everything.
Sam is standing there dumbfounded when he notices another box of pills.
"What are these for?"
Jake reads the label, puzzled, finds a book and starts flipping through it.
"Shit, that's even better."
Jake's mind is churning, he wishes he'd noticed this earlier, these prescriptions are all written from the Doctor to himself, or his wife...would've been prime blackmail material.
"This is all anti-cancer shit, not even legal in this country anymore. You know how much we could sell this for? And I'm not saying we should sell it here, there's countries we could get to where one or two of these bottles would pay for us to live for a year!"
"Let's get out of here before they get out," said Sam, feeling vaguely queasy, this wasn't how he wanted any of this to go at all, why the fuck did his mom try to pull that shit? Jake was every bit the son of Sharon and all the baggage that came with it, and was it a good thing Sam was in love with him? I mean, what the fuck could she possibly have done to make them so...evil to each other? Was Jake just playing him for fun, too? Where would it end?
"Not yet. One more thing to do."
"What? Why? Let's just get the fuck out of here."
Jacob Sr. is nursing a headache. He's not sure this absinthe isn't like every other relationship in his life. He drinks a little, it gives him a pounding headache, he drinks a bit more, it goes away and feels pleasant for a bit. He's starting on his third glass when the mobile buzzes in his pocket, scaring him so bad he knocks over his drink.
"Jake? Are you okay? Where are you!?"
He listens to the other end of the conversation in disbelief.
"You're okay...unh-huh...Sharon did what?!...where?!...wait...how can I find you...what do you mean you think it's better if...you have the VW? What?...wait...let me come get - the address? okay..."
He waves at the bartender for a pen and starts scribbling furiously.
"Why?...Jake, I'm worried about you and Sam...you're sure...really sure?? Jesus. Jesus fucking christ, she forced you and Sam to...what?!?!!...fine, stop yelling, fine...just promise me...you'll call me every day...and be safe, okay? Jake? Jake?"
He throws his money on the bar, thanking the bartender.
His blood is boiling. Not to mention the bitch took the VW so he has to stuff himself in the Mini, not a nice experience for a man his height, and thirty minutes later he's found it, a rundown little shack in the middle of nowhere, condoms everywhere, a few empty bottles of wine, glasses with lipstick on them, and...pills all over the place, from Sharon's bottle of valium it looks like. It looks like they must have really been enjoying themselves.
The man, whomever he is, must have a Firearms Certificate, there's a rifle in the case and the head of some unlucky animal stuck above the mantle, ghastly, thinks Jacob, barbaric, and his vision is starting to blur with rage. The bitch has been stepping out on him with this guy, yet she blames Jacob for their marriage? And making Sam and Jake do that...disgusting thing. He flips his mobile open and starts to dial '9-9-9' but, no, there's a rifle right there and justice just a few feet away, besides, if the police get involved, they'll try to find Jake, he'll have to testify about what she did, and he can't do that to his boys. They deserved so much better for parents.
He hears Sharon and her 'friend' banging on the door, just like Jake said they would be.
Time to even out the score and end all of this for once and for all. Conveniently, the man has his hunting gloves right next to the rifle, and he puts them on, trying to think if he touched anything, glad he was smart enough to park the Mini round back, glad it's pouring the rain and dark out.