Thanks to a long goodbye kiss from Yuki, Zach had a light spring in his step as he approached the house, barely aware of how tired he actually was. He took a few skips through the garage, kicked his shoes off and threw open the door to the sculler. On his socks, he slid across the polished floor into the kitchen and found himself eye to eye with his father.

His father was at the kitchen table, quietly studying the front page spread of the newspaper that headline ‘Oriental Offenders On Offense’.

Zach felt his heart rise in his throat, recognizing the hastily photographed motorcycle on the cover. It was very obviously his.

“Who the hell are you?” Mister Brooks demanded.

Zach pulled his wig off and offered him a weak grin, “Hi dad…”

Mister Brooks looked at his paper, looked at his son, then looked at the paper again and groaned.

“Have a seat, because I’m dying to hear this.”

Zach sighed, put the wig on the table and sat down in his usual spot, not offering commentary yet.

“Did you,” Mister Brooks trying, unsure where to start, “Did you get your concert tickets?”

Zach shook his head.

“Too bad. Then please explain me what you… Is your friend… Zach, please go get cleaned up. And while you’re in the shower, think about… This.”

Mister brooks rapidly tapped his finger on the newspaper picture for emphasis.

“Yes, dad…”

Zach got up from the table, which was the exact moment he heard his mother’s car enter the garage, scraping the door as always. He grabbed his wig and sprinted out of the kitchen, leaning back only to plead to his father to not tell the rest of the family what he just saw.

“As long as you don’t make it a habit, son,” Mister Brooks mumbled, “Though maybe I should send you to a monastery…”

Zach was thinking about what his father said when he heard Tara enter the kitchen.

“Dad!” she called, “Can I see that?”

“Sure princess?”

“It’s them!”

“Who?”

“These two girls,” she said breathlessly, “They saved me from a creep! I’m going to be just like them!”

“The fuck you are!”

“Language, honey…”

“Sorry, Cherry Pie, but these two girls have been an issue for one of my business partners.”

“Where’s Zach?” Tara asked, “I want to borrow those Japanese videos he’s always watching.”

“Zach was just about to take a shower,” mister Brooks said, stressing the last words in a warning to Zach, urging him to get out of the room, “So he can pick up his bike from the junkyard.”

“Why is it there?” Mrs Brooks wanted to know.

Zach never heard the answer, sprinting up the answer to get out of the school uniform and away from his sister.

He slammed the bathroom door and got out of his clothes, locking the door before he even had his skirt off.

“So, Zach,” Mister Brooks started, “I’m sure you can explain…”

Zach was seated in his father’s home office, acutely aware of how dark and uncomfortable the room was. The only sounds interrupting the silence were the gentle whirring of the computer and the occasional ding as his father’s wedding ring tapped the ashtray. It occurred to Zach that the ashtray had been there for years, he had made it himself in kindergarten after all, but he had never in his life seen his father smoke.

“You’re going to laugh…”

“Mister Sonetti sure wasn’t. I called him to say your bike had been stole, so you can still ride it if you want…”

“Who’s mister Sonetti.

“Business partner. Doesn’t matter. Now explain to me what you did last night.

Zach sighed, wondering if he should tell his father the whole truth, keeping his eyes pointedly at the mahogany desk.

“Promise Tara won’t get in trouble?”

“Your sister’s involved in this?”

“Sort of… You see, it started when I heard talk to Lucy about a fake ID…”

Mister Brooks’ cigarette had gone out and he stared incredulously at his son.

“If I hadn’t read your creative writing assignments, I’d say you made this all up, but you seem to be telling the truth.”

“The whole truth,” Zach assured him.

“What did you do with Tara’s fake ID?”

“I still have it.”

“Good. Cut it up and get rid of it… Now listen, Zach. Next time you hear something like that, just tell your mother. Don’t go pretending you’re Batman...or Batwoman...or whatever.”

Zach smirked, “You should try it, the breeze is nice.”

“Zach, I have decided not to ground you or hold back your allowance. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Thanks, dad...”

“It’s good of you to look after your sister. Real big brother, even if your methods are… questionable. Speaking of big brothers. Sawyer’s waiting for you. You have a horse to pick up.”

“Is it a horse this time?”

Mister Brooks lit a cigarette and nodded, “It is. I’ve seen a picture. Go and get him.”

“On it, dad.”

As soon as Zach closed the door, he heard his father burst out laughing.

“You the Brooks boys?”

The man asking was tall, towering over six foot nine and dressed in little more than a pair of too small dolphin shorts that showed off his toned physique.

Zach wasn’t sure if he should answer, intimidated by the stranger leaning on the pickup.

“Are you or not?” the chiseled man demanded, “I want to get rid of Shaka so I can go rollerskating.”

“You any good?” Sawyer asked, getting out of the pickup.

“The best,” the man informed him, “But are you the Brooks boys or not.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“That’s us,” Sawyer confirmed, “Can we see the horse?”

“Sure, boys, sure.”

The man led them to a trailer ,opened it and proudly displayed what appeared to be a black horse.

The animal huffed at them, took a few angry steps then let out a sound that was vaguely like a dog’s bark.

“Be careful with Shaka,” the man said, “He’s a bit pissy.”

The animal made a sound that was a bit like a mule’s bray.

“It’s not a donkey, is it?” Zach asked dubiously.

“Horse,” the man assured them, “Straight from Africa.”

“Africa?”

“Africa, Ohio…Come on, boys, he’s been paid for. Move it.”

Sawyer shrugged, took the rope that was around the animal’s neck and tried to pull the animal out of the trailer.

It bit him in the shoulder.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“You should be careful about that.”

“...Thanks for the warning,” Sawyer grumbled, dodging the animal’s repeated nips

Zach just blankly stared as Sawyer managed to wrestle it to the other trailer and let out a sigh of relief when Shaka was safely in their own.

“You driving?” Sawyer asked

“Sure.”

“It’s gonna rain though…”

“I can handle rain, Sawyer…” Zach yawned.

“Long night with the Ukulele girl?”

“Don’t call her that,” Zach sighed, getting in the car, “But you have no idea.”

“Second base?”

Zach shook his head, slamming the door and hoping the questioning would end there.

“Third?”

Zach shook his head again.

“Home? Damn, little bro, you…”

Zach drowned out his brother’s commentary by turning up the radio, filling the pickup with the sound of You’re the one that I want.

Sawyer commented on it, but Zach couldn’t hear him, only making out the word ‘gay’.

A light drizzle had picked up when they returned home, promising a rainy night.

“I’ll go get dad,” Sawyer said, “Do you think Tara’s home?”

“Should be.”

As Sawyer headed inside, Zach saw a pair of headlights in the mirror. A black sedan with tinted windows rolled past him a second later, then pulled up to the curb in front of the pickup. The back door opened and a familiar face got out of the car. Zach sank slightly lower in his chair when he recognized the mobster that had tried to force himself on his sister.

Vinnie didn’t have to bother going up to the door, as Sawyer, Tara and their father came out of the garage before he was out of the car proper. He waved jovially to Mister Brooks, who returned the wave, pointed at the trailer and gave the man an apologetic shrug.

Vinnie took a cigarette from his pocket, lit and leaned down against the car, curiously looking at Tara.

Zach hurried out of the car when he noticed, making sure to break the line of sight to Tara as much as he could.

He needn’t have bothered. When Sawyer opened the trailer, Shaka bolted and if Sawyer hadn’t responded immediately by grabbing the rope around its neck, it would have made a clean getaway. However, it was still a long stronger and Zach, his father and even the smoking mobster all had to help fight the horse to calm.

“You want to give this to Tara?” Zach yelled at his father, “Animal’s psycho!”

“It’s not a horse,” Tara said softly.

“What do you mean?” Mister Brooks demanded, “Of course it’s a damn horse!”

Tara shook her head and ran for the garden hose, “Keep him still!”

Confused, they struggled to keep the animal in place, then all looked when Tara ran the garden hose over the animal, getting rid of the black on it, slowly revealing its white stripes.

“It’s a fucking zebra…” Sawyer said to himself.

“Vincent, are you carrying?”

“I’m not shooting a zebra, Mike.”

“Guess he has some limits,” Zach muttered.

“What was that, kid?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Anyway, Vincent, what brings you here?”

“I’m looking for a green motorcycle. License plate…”

Zach paled as the man told his father the license plate, then felt his heart sink when Mister Brooks pointed at him, informing Vincent that Zach was the owner.

“Hey,” Vinnie said, “You don’t look like a Japanese girl.”

“And he’s been trying so hard,” Sawyer laughed, still struggling to get the zebra back in the trailer.

“Listen, kid,” Vincent said, then interrupted himself to look at Tara who was still holding the garden hose. She lowered it, giving a small part of the pavement a head start on the rain.

“You should get that, Miss Brooks,” Vinnie said.

Tara nodded, dropped the hose and ran inside without turning it off.

“Get that, Zach…”

“Sure, dad…”

“Did your bike get stolen, kid?”

“It did, Vincent. But they dumped it in the junkyard. Keys and all.”

“Lucky,” Vinnie observed, “Listen, Zach was it, if it gets stolen again, call me…”

Vinnie pulled out a business card and attempted to hand it to Zach, but Mister Brooks snatched it from their hands before it could cross over.

“I hope you’re not going to hold it against me that I don’t want my son to have the number of a pimp,” he said, pocketing the card, “But I’ll be sure to call you.”

“You got it, Mike. What’s with the face, kid?”

Zach, who realized he had been glaring daggers at the man, quickly put on a neutral face and shook his head, “Sorry, sir. Just something on my mind.”

“I hope for you it was schoolwork, cause if I see that face again you don’t want to know what I have on my mind.”

“Lay off my son, Vincent.”

“Sure, sure. Just giving him a warning. Enjoy your evening, Mike.”

Zach watched the man get back in the car, which left as quietly as it came.

“Stop staring! Zach!” Sawyer called from the passenger seat, “Get in! I want to get to the Hobbs place and back before dinner!”

“You got it,” Zach said, rushing back to the car, hoping Vinnie wouldn’t cross his path again.