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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 20, 2010 17:46:35 GMT -8
"Well I—I— Well, I don't know that I can drive anyway," Chance's voice was slow, in an attempt to enunciate properly. Yet, the cringe in his face and the way his body rocked slowly on his feet was a dead give away that his slightly slurred voice was a strong attempt not to sound wasted. Chance Del Rossi did not drink; not like other young men his age anyhow. A few, here and there, but other than that no. Chance was at odds with his drunk counterpart, mostly because that boy was a clingy, complimenting fool that smiled and couldn't stand on his own two feet. Somewhere in that brain of his, he thought it was a good idea to go to a bar. It was a small one, just a general little bar with a bunch of other guys that drank down their cheap beer with ESPN muffled behind the bar. If he knew half of what he had done that night, he would have hidden his face for at least a year. The whole evening was a blur, including his rendition of Copa Cabana and the fact that he had been calling some tall, bald gentleman sugarhair all night long. He probably served as enough amusement for the group, even when he started explaining how his theory on stem cell research was comparable to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. "You see, the embryonic cloned cells are like a—a—they're on a pilgrimage." And sadly, that was only the beginning of his night. See, smart Chance knew better than to drink and drive. So, instead, he planned to go to his car to ensure that it was locked and call a cab. Responsible, drunk Chance. Then someone asked if he needed a hand. It was someone from the bar, he was sure, and being the helpful citizen they were, offered to drive the rental car for him.
The rental car was found the next morning.
And a hung over Chance was woken up to cops at his door. It turns out that it is a bad idea to hand keys over when wasted, especially when you leave the keys in the hands of a stranger after they drop you off at the hotel he had been spending entirely too much money on recently. Then, when that helpful stranger asks for a little extra cash for helping it is an even worse idea to hand over a bank card. Chance would know this if he wasn't drunk, and/or if his brain wasn't trying to analyse everything except for the dangerous situation he put himself in. The stranger, or criminal, as Chance now knew him to be had taken the car for a joyride, robbed a liquor store, went on a spending spree with his card and eventually dumped the car outside of Toronto. The rental company led the cops to his door.
Nursing a headache, Chance spent the entire day at the station, going through all of the necessary steps and interrogations until he was ID'd as not being any of the participants in last night's game. He remembered bits and pieces of hid decision making in a blur, and eventually, he was released. In 24 hours, he became broke with a possible suspended license and a lot of trouble with a dealership on his hands. And to make it worse, the coffee he drank to fight his headache made him jiittery. It was almost 11 PM when he got out of the station and not about to be picked up there, he walked to a corner gas station and stood on the curb. He had no where to go really, and embarrassed and unsure of what he was going to do next, he picked up his cell phone and called the one person that could give him a ride home and maybe help him out. Dad.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 20, 2010 20:57:20 GMT -8
Three days. That was exactly how long Ben had been out of the hospital. After a week in ICU and another week in a room wth a kid, Ben had been released. And what he found out upset him: Marco never knew. It was like he didn't matter to the man anymore. Well, fine! He didn't need him! He had Jonathan, after all.
This morning, Ben was going through his pictures of his now ex husband and tearing them in half. He had to move on, and that was that. So that's what he was doing for an hour and a half, when the phone rang.
"Somebody wanna get that?" he called out. In return all he got was the phone ringing once more. Apparently they didn't ant to get it. Sighing, he grabbed the phone "yeah?" he asked, irritated
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 20, 2010 22:11:37 GMT -8
He sounded irritated. Chance noticeably cringed; but thankfully the phone didn't have an image to go along with his voice. It wasn't how he wanted to start this off. Sighing, he skidded his shoes against the concrete as he stood there, staring down in an attempt to draw words up from the cement. "Dad? Hey—um. I'm a little stranded, think you could give me a lift?" Simple. Sweet. Sure, Chance was a little slow to come out with it, but the youth wanted to make sure that he actually came and didn't decide it wasn't at all worth it. Plus, he didn't want to put a damper on his mood by letting him know that he had made an onslaught of stupid mistakes in one night. Chance might not have had the common sense or sobriety to save him from a mess of a night, but he was intelligent and he understood that making matters worse by talking too much wouldn't help his efforts at all. Even on the phone, he physically showed outward signs of nervousness; chewing on his lower lip, fumbling with the edges of his sleeves and having a clear inability to stay still... At least that couldn't be seen by him.
Coffee wasn't helping. It only made it ten times worse. And he was worried—about everything. Chance wasn't sure which way he was going. He came back to Toronto to figure that out and he had a good feeling that it wasn't going to be spending his time in pubs mingling with strangers. "I'm at a gas station, between Elm and Bay. Can you get here?" Please! He didn't add it, in fear of sounding desperate and giving too much away, but he wanted to. The last thing the dark haired boy wanted to do was stand out there all day wondering how he was going to make it back. If he had any cash on him, he would've grabbed the bus or a cab even. But, he didn't exactly have time to grab what pocket change he had left when he was escorted out of his hotel earlier. At least that scare was over. Right now, he just wanted to find a way to throw the entire 24 hour period behind him and maybe forget about it for a little while. Could they do that? Chance thought it was possible. It was unhealthy to dwell. He was rationalizing. Again, he was on the verge of sighing, but kept himself from it and waited for Ben's answer. Hopefully, he conceded.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 16:20:07 GMT -8
Dad?. The word made Ben inwardly cringe. What had Matt done now? But as the boy talked, Ben realized it wasn't Matt, or Aidan. It was one of the grown ones. That shouldn't be too bad. But, as Ben listened to his request, he frowned. Stranded? Didn't Chance have a rental car or something? He was about to ask, when he heard him state his location. Elm and Bay. What the hell was he doing all the way across town? Ben sighed. He had a million questions he wanted to ask his son, but at this point he knew it was useless. He did his best parenting when faced with the child. No, he would rescue the boy first, and ask questions later. Hopefully he didn't do anything too stupid.
"Yeah, I'll come get you" he said, standing and grabbing his keys. Well, at least he called him instead of Marco. He had one kid on his side! Yeah, real mature Ben. He shouldn't be thinking about sides, he should be getting his son.
"Give me twenty minutes" he told him and went out to the car. He started it up, putting in the address in his GPS.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 21, 2010 16:41:32 GMT -8
"Yeah, I'll come get you"
Chance couldn't have possibly suspected that Ben would say no, could he? He never thought of his father as turning him down. But, still, that nervousness was rising up in the pit of his stomach. It was guilt. Chance knew that. He felt bad about what he had already done, and because of it, he figured that the world was going to take it out on him. You know, karma. God, he didn't even believe in karma! He was a scientist! There could only be a reaction to an action and Ben would have to know about it to react in a sour way. It wasn't as if Chance had ever done anything this stupid before anyway. But, any small issues that the boy had ever had in his life usually revolved around decisions that his rational brain just looked over. They were typically silly things because he had a tendency to over think. When he was trying to rationalize bigger problems, it was hard to think about little ones like handing your keys over to a seemingly nice stranger when you were three sheets to the wind.
Again. He was rationalizing.
"All right, see you when you get here." Chance said, before shutting off the phone and pocketing it. He looked at the street, eyeing every car that passed before he started to back step to a bench in front of the station and sat down on it. With his elbows on his legs, he rested his chin in his hands, trying to recall the night before. Still, there was very little to go on. And to make it worse, there wasn't a real reason for doing it to begin with. He was just trying to get out of the hotel, and he was trying to integrate so to speak. Chance had never been the social type. Talkative, sure. He rambled with the best of them, and he had friends, but he tended to lose people or become a little disconnected in common social situations, like clubs and bars. Now, he understood the reasons behind it. Chance had a gifted look into the human psyche, so it wasn't above him. Still, it wasn't anything that he could change, except for to go out and forget about it. And he had...He did! And because of it, he met that kid that he really loathed. Drunk Chance. He was better left out of the picture completely.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 16:50:59 GMT -8
Ben made his way across town before finding his son. He looked at him and sighed before pulling over to let him in. His eyes gazed up and down the boy's figure. Something had happened. After nine kids, his fatherly instinct was good enough to tell him that. But what? Chance was...Chance! He was a good kid! Of course, so was Hayleigh. And she had gotten into trouble recently. Every good kid had to mess uo sometime, he supposed
He opened the door and looked down into his son's eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment, and when he did speak, it was simply "let's get something to eat." Yes, he would find a restaurant, sit him down, feed him, and then drill him. It seemed like a good plan to him.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 21, 2010 17:01:22 GMT -8
Chance's head lifted when he saw the car. Despite feeling incredibly guilty, he made eye contact without a moment's hesitation. The longer he could go without explaining, the better. It was the fear of disappointment and of revealing himself to be not as smart as he was supposed to be that bothered him the most. It was nothing else. His mistakes had justifiably already given him consequences. Of course, how he dealt with those consequences could make or break him. Honestly, he didn't know what to do and that was where he felt completely alone. He always seemed to have a plan, always knew what he wanted and where to go to get it. He had been out of the house at an early age and ever since then he tried to prove that he could excel and that he was a success so to speak. When he failed, it put things into sharp perspective. He was only human. Smart or not. Chance was a twenty-three year old with more professional experience than anything else. But how was he supposed to learn from mistakes if he never made any?
Food. Food, he could handle. He was grateful that he didn't pull over and immediately ask him why he was there and what had happened. He was sure that there had to be curiosity in the fact that he was needing to be picked up from a gas station. "Sure," Chance replied with a non-committal nod before he stood up and climbed into the passenger side of the car. "Thanks, by the way." He commented, immediately buckling his seat belt and leaning back in the seat. At least getting in symbolized a beginning to the end of hsi rough 24 hour period. Now, if he could get even further that'd be great. "Where were you thinking?" He asked, refraining from biting down on his lower lip while his eyes lifted to look at Ben again.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 17:11:42 GMT -8
"Italian" he said instantly. His son was in trouble, which meant that Ben had an oversized teenager on his hands. It took all of his strength to not yell and demand what had happened. Instead, he drove to a nearby restaurant, but Chance should know, if he remembered Ben's taste in food, that Ben only had Italian when he wanted to calm down. He liked italian food, it was his comfort food.
He parked in the parking lot of his favorite italian restaurant and got out. He looked at the young man ahead at the building, waiting for his son to follow.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 21, 2010 19:21:55 GMT -8
Italian.
Chance figured out early on that Italian was Ben's calm down food, so to speak. Personally, he never recalled doing a lot to frustrate him himself. Chance was basically well behaved. If anything, he was more timid of trouble than other kids his age. But, given how his first set of parents treated him, it was no surprise that he didn't handle out of control situations well at all. As a kid, he was the type that a parent had to be careful with. He was the sort that trusted easily, but once crossed, it was hard to even try to reestablish that bond. While he didn't act out aggressively or angrily, he began to fear. That was in childhood, however. Now, there were distinct differences in his behaviour and he was a lot stronger and stable than he had been in his youth. This, however, gave him insight that Ben was worked up and he could only assume it was because of him. He knew something was going on and it proved that he wasn't about to be off the hook. Nodding, he wasn't about to argue the choice. By all means, if it calmed him down then it was even better. "All right," he replied and offered the lamest attempt at a smile that he could muster up. He was starting to recognize that Ben was recognizing something was wrong and because of it he reacted appropriately.
Once the car was parked, he climbed out, staring at his shoes all the while. "You been here before?" He piped up, since there were several Italian restaurants in Toronto it was never hard not to have been to one and this particular one wasn't familiar to Chance. He didn't stop to ask, but kept following him into the building, all the way to the designated table where he slumped down into his seat. A part of him wished that they could have just driven home and maybe he would be able gather the nights events into a proper story. It wouldn't be a lie, just a little bit of prettier spin on what happened. Unfortunately, it looked like he wasn't going to be getting that.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 19:30:21 GMT -8
Ben took the menu when the waiter came around, but his eyes were on Chance. Instantly, he set it down, not opening it just yet. "All right" he said, clearing his throat. He kept his eyes locked with his son's, a tactic used on Matt when he didn't think he was going to get the truth out of him. Aidan was easier, when he lied it was so blantantly obvious. But Chance...he didn't know how difficult he was going to be.
"where's your car?" that was the first question out of his mouth. He wasn't going to ask if he wanted to tell him where it was, because he wasn't giving him a choice.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 21, 2010 19:48:08 GMT -8
Chance met his father's gaze with an apparent ease (apparent, because it wasn't easy. It was, in fact, difficult). He discovered early on in his childhood, even before Marco and Ben became a constant in his life that eye contact was a necessity. Even when he felt all around fidgety, he seemed highly capable of keeping his eyes on somebody else. Whether a blessing or a curse, he didn't know. Right now, it could go either way, because that strange instinct in the back of his head kept telling him to avert it, but his reflexes told him otherwise. He didn't even bother to look at the menu, because Ben wasn't. To him, that was a clear sign to put his attention on his father rather than on the prospect of food. And god, did food sound good. It had been a long time since he ate anything. Most of the day his appetite was suppressed, so he was sure he could inhale a plate of food without hesitation. He swallowed while he waited for him to break the silence. He wasn't going to say more than he had to! Eventually, everything would come out, because he couldn't necessarily keep it all a secret, but he wasn't in a rush either.
When asked about the car, Chance frowned a little to himself. It was reasonable, logical, and he had to respect that it didn't come with a question of whether or not he wanted to tell him. That was always an easy one to get around. Though, unlike those who liked to be manipulative because they thought they could get away with it, Chance often answered questions like that completely honestly and without elaboration. "Back at the rental dealer. That's why I needed a ride." It was an honest, straight-forward answer. It was the story in between having it and not having it that had all of the details he probably wanted. But, he didn't ask for that. And Chance wasn't being snarky. He technically didn't. And the boy was all about technicalities. It was how he functioned.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 22:40:53 GMT -8
Ben folded his hands and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes narrowed in on the boy. He was just like Grace. Ben was at a disadvant age. The other kids either played the "I'm not telling you" game, which he got alot from Megan; the "none of your business" game, which came out of Hannah's mouth most of the time; or they gave too much information and pretty much spill the beans. That was what he was used to. But now, he was being given a game he didn't see in the others: the technicality game. Oh, he knew what he was doing because Grace did it, and Ben himself did it when he was younger. So he decided to do what his father did with him.
"do you think I'm stupid? Do I look stupid to you? If it's at the dealer, why didn't I pick you up there? You didn't take it there, did you? What happened to the car?!" Ben's voice steadily raised and his face grew red as he lost his temper. Suddenly, he felt eyes on him and realized he was making a scene. Taking a drink from the water glass the waiter had given him (which was the lawyer instinct in him ), he looked at Chance again. "well?" he demanded.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 21, 2010 23:45:26 GMT -8
"—no—sir." Chance tried to interrupt when he asked him if he thought he was stupid. It wasn't the case at all. It was one of those rhetorical questions, wasn't it? Because he didn't stop. Ben continued, and Chance felt himself wanting to sink lower in the chair. If he could, then maybe he would just disappear. It wasn't the actual questions that bothered him, it was the tone. That was what made him nervous. He started to play with the edge of the table, trying to keep himself from rushing straight into fight or flight and taking off as fast as humanly possible. Now, he had never actually been driven to that, but it felt like such an extreme possibility now and he hadn't even described what happened. "Because—" Again, he didn't get a word in and finally averted his gaze to the table and waited before he slowly lifted his eyes again and then shook his head. "No. It was taken by someone else. Probably someone hired by the company—I didn't ask specifics. It's safe. At the dealer." He was telling the truth! It was at the dealer, it was safe, and he hadn't taken it there. Of course, it was all about the in between, wasn't it?
But, Ben had asked what happened and that was where he was stuck. He couldn't just leave his answer there. Chance was quiet again. It took him a moment before he admitted quietly, "It was stolen." One more detail, but again, no elaboration. God, if he mentioned how then it would make him look like the biggest idiot to have ever graced Toronto. Hell, probably the stupidest that graced all of North America. He was waiting at that point, waiting to hear what else Ben would have to say. He didn't want to hear more increases in volume. The first time was bad enough for him. If looks didn't make him insecure enough, not being sure of how he was going to react further was even worse.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2010 23:57:15 GMT -8
Safe. Ben didn't like that word. That meant that it was unsafe at one point, which meant his son was unsafe at one point. Ben decided then to glance at the menu when Chance took his time answering. When he said it was stolen, Ben set the menu back down. "It was stolen." he repeated, letting it process into his brain. It was obvious Chance was guilty of something and didn't want to admit it. Well, Ben was good at getting the truth out. That was his job as a lawyer, after all. And sure, he hadn't practiced in a couple of months but he wasn't that rusty.
"And how did it get stolen?" It felt like he was in a courtroom again when he asked that question. He could imagine Chance being on the stand, playing with it like he was with the table. A sure sign of nervousness. He'd get the truth out of him, and they weren't leaving the restaurant until he did.
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Post by Chance Del Rossi on Apr 22, 2010 0:13:10 GMT -8
"Yes," At his reiteration of what he said, the boy nodded to confirm that it was, in fact, stolen. That was easy because he already said it and words couldn't be taken back once they were said, no matter how much he wished they could. Words like, "Sure, you can park it!" or "I can't drive anyway.". He knew that this could go on and on, and he was fully aware of how good he was with the questioning. But, Chance didn't want to make it harder on himself and that was why he chose to answer the questions rather than to go into story telling mode. The good thing was that Chance didn't often do that anyway. He was usually good at saying what needed to be said, unless he was rambling about something that interested him. He didn't do it when he was faced with someone upset at him. When it came to that, it was as if only the necessary words started to come out of him. He wasn't going to stand there and ramble about what he had done. That would just make matters worse. One thing at a time. One thing.
"Well, the keys got into the wrong hands." He told him, and looked down at the menu for a moment, then up again. "Did I tell you how grateful I am you gave me a ride?" He knew he thanked him, and he knew it was silly to even try the suck up approach. It was subtle though and said completely seriously without the cheesiness that suck ups usually tried to pull off. Chance was doing his best to distract him just a bit. He didn't want him upset and he didn't really want to be drilled either.
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