Death of a Dream (Requiem #0.5)

Chapter 1

Ryan Burke kicked a rock from the flowerbed up onto one of the pristine concrete pavers by the side of the infinity pool. He knew if his father had seen him do it, he'd get yelled at and told to pick it up. But his father wasn't here. Joseph Burke, Sr. was upstairs in his office, where Ryan was supposed to be meeting with him right now.

He sat on one of the chairs by the poolhouse, looking at the hazy line where the ocean met the darkening sky, a slight tinge of pink from the setting sun still coloring the clouds. Lights from distant ships were just beginning to appear on the horizon, sparkling like diamonds on a chain separating sky from sea. He wished he were on one of those ships right now. Anything to be away from the man waiting for him upstairs.

Ryan wasn't afraid of his father, though he had been as a boy. The man spent time with his children so infrequently that he had seemed like a stranger to Ryan, and a harsh and demanding one at that. He expected immediate and complete obedience. The man had a way of making even a small misstep seem like a monumental failure. Ryan had learned to obey his father without question and to avoid him as much as possible. But his teenage years had awakened a rebellious streak inside of him. And he didn't think he was going to like whatever his father was going to tell him.

The last of the sunlight faded away, leaving only the lights from his parents' Pacific Palisades mansion and the city down the canyon below to illuminate the night. The sun set early in December but the weather was temperate in Southern California. Ryan took off his letterman jacket and let the crisp mountain breeze ruffle his t-shirt. This was as cool as he liked it. He couldn't imagine living in a place where you couldn't wear a t-shirt year-round.

Things were finally starting to go right for him. He'd gotten his braces off a few weeks after his fourteenth birthday that summer. His acne had cleared up just before he'd started school and he'd made it on the football team in his freshman year. He was getting attention from girls and was easily the most popular guy in the ninth grade. Students stepped aside when he walked through the outdoor hallways of Palisades Charter High School. He heard girls whisper his name as he passed, their faces holding awe or pleasure that he'd chosen to look their way. He didn't need to ask for numbers, but sometimes he did anyway, just to see how much girls craved his attention. The way he figured, he'd rule Palisades Charter by junior year.

Then last week, his older brother had come home from his first semester of college. Joseph Burke, Jr. was already on academic probation. Their father had been furious when he'd found out. The shouting had woken Ryan from sleep just after midnight early that morning. His ears still rang with the words, "No son of mine is going to fail out of college!"

Something had changed in the air that night. All day long, Ryan had known that the fallout from his brother's failure to live up to their father's expectations would affect him next, but he didn't know quite yet how. When he came home from school that afternoon, he'd been told to be in his father's study at 5 pm. Just the fact that his father wanted to speak to him was unsettling. He'd not had a real conversation with the man since... he wasn't sure how long it had been.

Ryan stood and moved to the glass railing at the edge of the poolhouse, looking out at Los Liones Canyon extending below him to the place where lights congregated near the shore. For a moment, he wondered what would happen if he hopped the fence, took off into that canyon, and lived there in the little patch of wilderness. Free of whatever plan his father was brewing for him.

"Mister Ryan?"

Ryan turned to see the housekeeper, Mrs. Santos, standing behind him.

"Your father is expecting you upstairs."

Ryan looked down at the green glow of the pool light glinting through the saltwater. If he jumped into the pool, he'd buy a few more minutes before he'd have to see his father. He knew it wouldn't be worth the trouble. Without a word, he turned and walked into the house, pausing a moment before the main staircase. His eyes flitted to the front door, wondering what would happen if he made a run for it. But that door would lead him to the front drive, in full view of his father's study. His gaze leaped to the back staircase down the hall, where he could escape the house through the side door. Or maybe he'd head into the garage and borrow one of the cars.

He knew how to drive. Last summer before Joe headed off to college, he and his friends had thought it would be funny to make Joe's thirteen-year-old brother drive the winding canyon roads. Remembering the consequences of standing up to these boys before, he let them shove him into the driver's seat and yell garbled instructions at him. As the only sober person in the vehicle, he figured he'd have a pretty good excuse if the cops pulled them over and tried to charge him with underage driving. Despite the disadvantages that come with three drunk eighteen-year-olds serving as first-time driving instructors, Ryan hadn't driven them off a cliff, crashed the car into anything, or gotten caught by the cops. He'd even enjoyed the experience once the initial terror wore off. He was looking forward to turning fifteen-and-a-half next winter and getting a learner's permit. His current career aspirations centered on racecar driving, though he hadn't told anyone about that yet. Especially not his father.

Though the thought of running away was tempting, he decided it would only bring more wrath down upon him. With a sigh only Mrs. Santos could hear, he resigned himself to his fate and began to climb the stairs.