Post by CM Poor on Jul 2, 2006 22:31:26 GMT -5
Opportunity
Outside, the air is warm, a slight breeze blows by every once and again to add a comfortable chill to the hot summer evening, the temperature only digits from what it had been all day. A car or two will pass by the otherwise lonesome street every few minutes, but otherwise, the only noise tonight is coming from the large, black wooden building on the corner of the main road and the even smaller sidestreet. Kilkenny's Irish Pub. Outside, Jason Vieira pushes a button on his cell phone to check the clock. 10:31. He's late, but only just. Making his way up the lighted ramp to the right hand side of the building, Jason is greeted at the door by an overwhelming cheer from the patrons within. He smiles. The moment would have seemed opportune - a rousing welcome for a hometown hero, but in fact, as evidenced by the replay on the small screen behind the bar, David Ortiz had just popped one out of the park to take the lead against the Mets. After all, most of the people here he barely recognized. Kids. Would have just hit high school when it had all happened. Looking around, Vieira takes comfort in the small things that have stayed the same. Ray Cohen still takes a moment to bask in the glory of a nice Sox game in between pouring drinks. Over at the billiards tables, Mike Cole and Devin Burton still go at it round after round. And in the far corner of the lounge, just within vieiwing distance of a second tv, Sean Casey sits sipping a pint of Guiness, with one across the table, waiting for his friend Jason Vieira. As Jason makes his way over, Sean rises to greet him with a hearty handshake, indicating the pint opposite him, inviting him to sit.
Outside, the air is warm, a slight breeze blows by every once and again to add a comfortable chill to the hot summer evening, the temperature only digits from what it had been all day. A car or two will pass by the otherwise lonesome street every few minutes, but otherwise, the only noise tonight is coming from the large, black wooden building on the corner of the main road and the even smaller sidestreet. Kilkenny's Irish Pub. Outside, Jason Vieira pushes a button on his cell phone to check the clock. 10:31. He's late, but only just. Making his way up the lighted ramp to the right hand side of the building, Jason is greeted at the door by an overwhelming cheer from the patrons within. He smiles. The moment would have seemed opportune - a rousing welcome for a hometown hero, but in fact, as evidenced by the replay on the small screen behind the bar, David Ortiz had just popped one out of the park to take the lead against the Mets. After all, most of the people here he barely recognized. Kids. Would have just hit high school when it had all happened. Looking around, Vieira takes comfort in the small things that have stayed the same. Ray Cohen still takes a moment to bask in the glory of a nice Sox game in between pouring drinks. Over at the billiards tables, Mike Cole and Devin Burton still go at it round after round. And in the far corner of the lounge, just within vieiwing distance of a second tv, Sean Casey sits sipping a pint of Guiness, with one across the table, waiting for his friend Jason Vieira. As Jason makes his way over, Sean rises to greet him with a hearty handshake, indicating the pint opposite him, inviting him to sit.
Sean Casey: You're a long way out of your way for a match in Canada, guy.
Taking a seat opposite his friend, Vieira reaches for the drink waiting for him, taking a considerable sip before placing it back on the table. Despite the enthusiasm that took him to the top against ZMaster, Jason once again carries with him a visible sense of defeat. Barely presentable in a denim shirt and jeans, his face once more suffering from a week without grooming, he concentrates for a long time on the foam atop his drink, before finally looking up to speak with Sean.
Jason Vieira: If you were in my shoes, Sean, what would you do? The whole world thinks you're guilty, you've got guys you've never even heard of talking this, that, and the other about the kind of guy you were in a prison they've never even been to, and the only thing that instinctively comes to your mind in response makes you look as guilty as the day they slammed the door shut on your cell. Would you give up on your principles and give the public the menace they want, or would you throw in the towel, disappear, and let them forget you ever showed up in the first place?
Sean: Honestly? I'd let 'em talk. The whole world's got an agenda, whether it's labeling guys like you guilty because they've more than likely got a secret that'd land 'em right in your shoes, swapping their name out for your own when it comes to tales of what goes on behind the bars, or just plain talking crap, everyone's got an agenda. That leaves you. Jason Vieira. You got dealt a bum hand in life. For seven years, the world went by without you, and you just waited. You're out, and what've you got? You've got a pickup truck and change of clothes. This guy, Walker, he did what? A year? What's he got - the same crap he had when he went in. You let a guy like that get the best of you with comments like that, he'll be laughing all the way to the top.
Dwelling on this, Vieira keeps his gaze on the drink in front of him, not having touched it since entering the bar. Searching his mind for a better way to get through to his friend, Sean finally looks up and smacks Vieira upside the head, indicating to him Mike and Devin over at the billiards tables. The two men are now in each other's faces, each gripping a pool cue, ready to throw down.
Sean: You see that? That's the same sort of thing that landed both those guys in the county for five years apiece. They came out just the same as you are now - broken and confused, and you know what they did? They went back to exactly what they were doing before. You remember Pat McShea? He did two years for busting a guys nose so he could hustle some booze money off of him. You know where Pat is now? He's dead. Left this place one night and wrapped that little car of his around a lamp post. Three dumb craps running their life into the ground because they didn't take their chance to turn things around. That leaves you. The difference between you and them is you didn't do anything wrong. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hell, I don't know if you remember Jay, but you were on your way to a degree at one point. You had all this going for you and it was pulled out from under you. And here you are now. You've got this opportunity, this shot to take back your share of this good things in life that were torn away from you by an illiterate jury and some loose evidence, and you're thinking of backing away from that? I thought I had you figured better than that.
Crossing his arms, Sean leans back into his chair and turns his gaze toward the game on the tv, visibly upset by what has just transpired. For a long moment, the two men avoid each other's gaze, in complete silence. Finally, taking another sip of his drink, Jason sit up, placing his elbows on the table, focusing his attention now on his friend.
Jason: You know, Sean, up until today, all I had were people telling me it couldn't happen. McGurk told me I couldn't stand in his way of beating the slump he's in, ZMaster telling me he'd knock me out to get to the top, and now this CBT talking his trash to make me look bad amid his own race to the front, but this is the first I've heard that this is an opportunity that I've earned - that I'm afforded. Up until today, the only thing going through my mind was a way to get out of this whole situation I'd been thrown into. I'm not saying I'll definitely show up at Odium, and I'm certainly not saying I want to win this, but you've given me something new to toil over in my head. I'll be sure to get back to you on that.
Standing up, Jason pulls out his wallet, dropping enough money down to cover both drinks. He manages a handshake out of his disuaded friend, before turning out toward the door, sharing glances with Ray at the bar and some of the other patrons who've now recognized him on his way out into the night.
I dont know good luck 