Free Perpetual Check by Rich Wallace Page B

anything!” Zeke says, his voice rising.
    “That's true,” says the Director. “But the integrity of the tournament demands that we follow the protocol. And we're definitely bending it if we continue.”
    Zeke lets out a sigh and directs his next comment to Randy. “I was winning.”
    Randy knows that it's true. But it isn't his fault that their father is out of control.
    Zeke shrugs and actually starts to laugh. “Let's start over then.”
    “It's the best decision under the circumstances,” the Director says.
    “The only fair way,” says his assistant.
    Mrs. Mansfield comes quietly out of the conference room. “Is everything all right?” she asks.
    “Fine,” Zeke says. “Dad just cost me the tournament, that's all.”
    “Where is he?” Her tone suggests that she's ready to rip him to shreds.
    “He went outside. Do us all a favor and make sure he doesn't come back, please.”
    “You can count on it.”
    Dina has come out to the lobby, too. She follows Randy and Zeke. “Did you really go back and forth to two different beds last night?” she asks.
    “Just one,” Randy says. “I let a homeless guy use the other.”
    “That's nice.” Dina giggles again.
    Zeke stops at the conference room door. “Can we get ten minutes?” he asks the Regional Director.
    “Considering the circumstances, why don't you take fifteen?”
    “I'm going to my room,” Zeke says, heading for the elevator.
    “Me too,” says Randy.
    Dina starts to follow, then flops down on the leather couch.
    “Can you believe this shit?” Zeke says after pushing the 3 on the elevator panel.
    Randy thinks it over, scrunches up his face, and says, “Yes.”
    They hustle down the hallway. Randy turns on the TV and sits on the edge of his bed, watching a Syracuse-Providence college basketball game. Within seconds, there's a knock on the door.
    It's Zeke. “Forgot my key again,” he says. “Can I use your bathroom?”
    “Considering the circumstances, come on in.”
    “I was this close to punching that bastard.”
    “The Director?”
    “Dad,”
Zeke says sharply. “What an idiot.”
    “He'd deck you right there.”
    “He could
try.”
Zeke's face is red, and he wipes at his eye with his thumb.
    “Come on,” Randy says. The idea of his father and Zeke in a fistfight turns Randy's stomach. There's always been tension—a growing tension in every relationship in the house—but this is the first real threat that one of those relationships would burst like a pimple full of pus. And the domino effect would be immediate—Mom would get Dad kicked out of the house. The resentment on all sides would explode.
    “Calm down,” Randy says. “You just have to put up with the guy for a few more months.”
    “As soon as I graduate, I'm out of there.”
    “Yeah, but think about
me
for once. I've got three and a half years of high school left.”
    “And you want him around the whole time?” Zeke asks. “He's a dick.”
    “Not completely.”
    “Pretty close… Do you actually think it would be better to keep things the way they are? Total denial?”
    “Not denial,” Randy says. “Just a balance.”
    “That's like perpetual check.”
    “Isn't that better than losing?”
    “Not the way I play.”
    Randy thinks this over for a second. Zeke takes risks and they rarely pay off. But maybe when one does, it makes the bigger payoff worth it. Randy doesn't have enough confidence to test that theory himself. “Life's not a game,” he says.
    “Bull
shit
it isn't. And take a look around, brother. Every person you know is playing by different rules.”
    Zeke goes into the bathroom. Randy can hear him blowing his nose. He steps over to the window and looks out at Scran-ton, the blond-brick university buildings to the right, some seedy bars and deteriorating storefronts to the left. Just below, in the hotel parking lot, he can see his parents standing next to his father's car. Actually, his dad is leaning against the car, his arms folded and