Renaissance Man - Part 1

Scene 17_ I Can't Walk Away (Inciting Incident - Part 2)

Scene 17 Rev E

Scene 17 “I Can’t Walk Away”

Torey Campbell – Protagonist
Jethro Lawson – Younger boy (walk-on)
Rufus Kenly – Bully 1
Nestor Ramirez – Bully 2

[This is the second of three scenes (14, 17, 20) making up the ‘Inciting Incident’]

         "I ain’t got no money," whined Jethro Lawson, bouncing from one foot to the other like he had to pee real bad.
         Rufus Kenly had Jethro cornered against the iron grate on the front window of Kopischke’s Market, like a bird in a cage. "We know that Jethro. Problem is you didn’t bring the money like you was supposed to," Rufus said, enjoying his dominance over the younger, smaller boy.
         Nestor Ramirez, his shadow, chimed in, "Rule is you pay us five bucks a week to keep bad things like this from happenin’ to you. Right, Rufus?"
         Lawson repeated, "I don't have five bucks. Where am I gonna get five bucks?"
         "Don't care where you get it,” said Rufus, “Raid your mama's purse or steal it from some little kid. But you come up with five bucks for us every week, or you get a beatin’."
         "Yeah, like the one you gonna get right now. Sorry Jethro. Don't take this personal, it's just business," threw in Ramirez, impressed with himself for quoting the famous gangster line.
         Rufus grabbed Lawson by his shirt, spun him around, and threw him to Nestor, who met him with a solid fist to his mouth. Nestor hit him twice more, once in the face and once in the stomach, then pushed him back to Rufus.
         As Kenly caught Jethro, he pulled him in close and glared into his face. "Next week it's fifteen cuz you missed this week and you gotta pay interest on the missed payment." Then he hit him squarely with a left and a right to the face.
         "I can't do that," replied Jethro, his eyes filled with tears and his voice sobbing.
         The air brakes hissed, the door clattered open, and Torey Campbell stepped off the bus into the afternoon heat. "Leave him alone," he exclaimed.
         Rufus turned his attention from Jethro to Torey. "Well, look who's here. Just the punk we been looking for. Bertozzi wants us to deliver a message to you."
         "Yeah, soon as we finish with this guy,” echoed Nestor, “Don't go away."
         "You two sure you can handle him by yourself? Maybe you need four or five more thugs like you to even things out," Torey taunted, angry at the bullying but fearful of what he was stepping into.
         Nestor turned back to Jethro encouraging him. "Sure you can Jethro. A resourceful kid like you can find a way to steal fifteen bucks from somewhere."
         Rufus finished with Jethro, throwing him to the ground. "Get out of here; we got other business to tend to."
         "Listen, Campbell,” said Nestor, turning to Torey, “you don't tell us who to leave alone. We in charge here, not you."
         Kenly and Ramirez focused their attention on Torey — maneuvering him against the window grate vacated by Lawson, who took the opportunity to gather himself up and hustle away down Fletcher Avenue as soon as his tormentors turned their focus elsewhere.
         Rufus began the assault. "Bertozzi had a conversation with you and your boys in which ..."
         "They aren't my boys," Torey broke in. Anger at the bullying of Lawson gave way to fear about his own situation. I can’t back down from these two, he thought, his mind racing for a way out.
         Rufus continued "... in which he offered you a way to make a lot of money." As he spoke, he pushed Torey against the window grate.
         "Yeah. And you guys all walked away from him," Nestor growled, moving to enclose Torey.
         "They’re not my guys!"
         Kenly moved in closer. "Bertozzi says you're the leader."
         Ramirez closed in too. "Walkin’ away from our man like that ain't polite. You should have better manners."
         "I don’t care what Bertozzi says, I'm not the leader of anything," Torey again protested.
         Torey could smell his foul breath as Rufus pushed his face in nose to nose. "Well, you just became the leader – under us, that is." His foul breath emphasizing his nasty character.
         "Bertozzi wants somebody inside your school," echoed Nestor, "and you gonna make that happen."
         "We hereby makin’ you the leader at Butler Cowan Middle School," declared Rufus.
         Torey's throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow. His instinct screamed ‘run’ but giving in spelled big future trouble.
         "I can't control what they do or don't do."
         Rufus backed off a bit. "Bertozzi likes you: he prefers you. You do it or get one of your boys to do it."
         "I told you, they ain't my boys."
         "Bertozzi wants you to work for him, and he don't take ‘no’ for an answer. Don’t you get that Campbell?" Ramirez exclaimed, thumping Torey’s chest with his fist.
         Rufus leered at Torey, revealing his pleasure at what was about to happen. "We here to convince you to accept Mr. Bertozzi’s generous offa."
         Torey did not doubt what was coming. I'm gonna get beat up bad, he thought; hope for a way out gone from his mind.
         "I'm thinkin’ bout it," Torey croaked.
         Nestor smiled, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. "That's good Campbell, that's good," he replied in an upbeat voice.
         Rufus smiled too. "We just gonna help your thinkin’."
         "Yeah, we help it along so your brain won't have to work so hard," Nestor added.
         The gleam in their eyes and the grins on their faces told Torey he was going to take a beating for their pleasure and nothing he said or did could stop it. This was not ‘just business'. Both took great pleasure inflicting pain and now they were over the edge anticipating the cruelty they were about to dish out.
         Torey tried unsuccessfully to sound tough. "Two on one? That your idea of a fair fight?", but his voice broke, and the words came out in a squeak.
         "This ain't no fight, Campbell, and it ain't supposed to be fair. This is a lesson," Rufus replied, punching his right fist into his left palm as he moved in on Torey.
         Nestor slipped behind Torey, grabbing both his arms and pinning them behind him, while Rufus punched and slapped Torey about the face and torso. He continued for several seconds, enjoying every punch, especially when one punch drew blood.
         “My turn,” yelled Nestor, pitching Torey to Rufus.
         Rufus landed one last punch grabbing Torey and spinning him around to face Nestor.
         Torey hurt. His face stung, and his shirt now showed splashes of blood, yet he was surprised. Is this all they got? he thought. Are they holding back? I should be unconscious in the street by now.
         Nestor took his turn beating Torey while Rufus held him. “I like this job, Rufus,” Nestor said, a bit winded from the exertion.
         Nestor’s punch couldn’t match Rufus, and Torey absorbed the hits with just a grimace. His body stiffened as fear swelled into anger, realizing that one-on-one, he could beat both of them in spite of the age and size difference. For now, he had to endure them, hoping they wouldn’t escalate to weapons.
         After a few minutes, Rufus got bored with holding Torey and threw him at Nestor. Nestor threw him back.
         Rufus grabbed him again.
         Moving in close to Torey, Nestor rejoined the conversation. "Are we helpin’ your brain think about this opportunity the right way?"
         Torey, now more angry than scared, responded: "My brain works fine – better than yours, you jerks."
         Oh man, I shouldn’t have said that!
         "Nestor, he called us jerks.", said Rufus.
         Nestor frowned, grinned, looked at Torey, and replied to Rufus, "Guess we gotta add a lesson in respect to this trainin’. Campbell, why did you have to go and talk stupid like that?"
         Rufus and Nestor relished the idea that Torey had justified another round of their sport. But for Torey, anger still outweighed fear.
         Kenly threw Torey back to Ramirez, preparing to continue the beating. He paused. Both Torey and Nestor watched as Rufus reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of brass knuckles. This brought a new dimension to the conflict, and terror quickly replaced anger in Torey’s mind. He couldn’t hide it. My god, I’m really gonna get hurt now. He squeezed his eyes shut, and cringed. His legs went weak, his full body weight being supported by Nestor, who was not up to the task.
         Rufus, with the brass knuckles on his right hand, slammed the left side of Torey’s face hard four times. Although Rufus didn't have much of a punch, the brass knuckles did real damage — more than all of the previous hits combined. Nestor let Torey slip to the ground, now spattered with his blood.
         "Wow, Rufus! You taught him good that time," Nestor whooped, thrusting his arms into the air.
         Lying face down on the sidewalk, Torey’s attempted shout came out of his blood-filled mouth barely more than a whimper "You're still jerks," but loud enough that both Nestor and Rufus heard it. Shut up, Campbell! What’s the matter with you?
         Nestor responded, anticipating a chance for him to use the brass knuckles. "Are we gonna have to do this again? Is it my turn, Rufus?"
         Rufus looked about, concerned about the possibility of someone calling the cops. "Naa. That's enough. Save it for next time,” he replied. “Let’s blow this place. Bye, Campbell. Have a nice day."
         Ramirez picked up the sarcasm. "Yeah, Campbell. We had fun visitin’ with you. We still owe you one for that last insult. Enjoy the rest of this beautiful afternoon. We'll give Bertozzi your regards."
         "See you again — soon," added Rufus.
         "Yeah. Real soon."
         The two would-be enforcers headed off along Archer Boulevard, satisfied with their afternoon’s work — soon to tell Bertozzi about their successful day — both feeling like they had just earned a promotion in Bertozzi’s organization.
         Torey lay on the sidewalk, his face in a pool of blood and sweat, his eyes swollen almost shut, his face stinging, his body aching. The afternoon sun above and the concrete below cooked him like a piece of raw meat in a broiler. His head spun, and nobody came to help him. He didn’t try to get up. That’s the kind of neighborhood I live in, he thought. Recalling the ‘job interview’ just completed, he mumbled to himself, "Do I have to put up with scum like that to make any money?"

###

Word Count: 1,716
Readability Consensus (based on 8 readability formulas)
         Grade Level: 5
         Reading Level: easy to read.
         Reader's Age: 8-9 yrs. old (Fourth and Fifth graders)