I open the door to find Chris sitting on the couch in the living room, watching a DVD he made of his favorite cartoons. Sometimes, I come out of that bedroom, and I honestly feel like I’m five years old again, walking into my parents living room.
Through countless conversations with Chris, both before and after he formally became a con man, I’ve found it best to keep in mind what Chris really means when he says certain words. It’s easy enough if you keep on top of it, but let that guard down for a minute and he’s already gotten what he wants.
“Hey,” I say. “I think we should talk.”
“Can it wait?” he asks, holding a spoonful of cereal between his bowl and his mouth. “I really want to see how this ends.”
He takes his bite and I grab the remote, switching off the television.
“Dude!” he says. “Now I’m never going to find out if Snoopy made it home!”
“Chris, what are your plans?” I ask.
“Oh jeez,” he says. “Do we have to do this every day?”
“We’ll do it until either you move out or I get an answer I like,” I tell him.
“I’m not going to be here that long[1],” he says. “I don’t even know if that guy’s still looking for me, but I ain’t going back there until I feel safe.”
“What did you even do?” I ask. “Did you con a single mother out of groceries? Did you swipe a kid’s cellphone? What?”
“I don’t get why you always gotta make me out to be some heartless guy,” Chris says. “I’ve got feelings, too, you know.”
“I don’t know what to do here,” I tell him. “I’m just getting to where things are starting to go all right in my life, and I can’t have you coming in here and screwing it up like you always do.”
“I don’t screw things up,” he says. He cocks his head, thinks about the statement a moment and then amends it, “I don’t always screw things up.”
“Yeah, well we’re going to have to come to some kind of understanding here,” I tell him. “Otherwise, I think it’s best that you don’t come around for a while.”
“Really dude?” he asks. “I’m your brother. You’re really telling me that you want to just kick me out and cut me off? Doesn’t seem very fraternal.”
“Neither does expecting me to go out of my way to fix all of the problems you create by being a scumbag,” I tell him.
“Scumbag?” he asks. “May I remind you that when we were kids, I kept dad off your back for years.”
“You didn’t keep him off my back,” I retort, “you just pissed him off more than I did. Come on,” I tell him, “what did you do?”
“Well,” he sighs, “I fell into some old, discarded jewelry and I was just trying to sell it at a fair markup. I don’t know why the guy got so mad at me. I think he was one of those sociopath guys. He totally seemed like the type that would give a cow beef jerky.”
“So you tried to pawn some worthless crap onto someone after telling them it was pure gold and diamonds or whatever, he found out you were trying to screw him and it blew up in your face,” I say. “Is that about right?”
“That’s not the way I see it,” he says. “It does kinda sound like what that guy was saying when he was chasing me to my car, though.”
“Christ, Chris!” I exclaim. “You’ve got to stop pulling this crap! Has it ever occurred to you that one of your more jilted clients could follow you here and pull me into your mess even more than you already have?” I ask. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m just trying to get back on my feet[2],” Chris says. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal is that you keep doing the same things you’ve always done, and you still expect me to bail you out when it goes wrong,” I tell him. “You’re my older brother. You’re supposed to be the mature one, the one who has his life together, but you’re just a child.”
“Kids have it made,” Chris says. “Follow a few simple rules and someone will take care of everything else for you. That’s the life.”
“It’s time to grow up,” I tell him. “Can you even hear yourself?”
“You know something, bro?” he asks. “Studies show that most people who go around telling everyone else to grow up are just unhappy that they don’t have a better relationship with their inner child.”
Chris and his studies... It’s a joke, but I’m not laughing.
“I’m not going to do it anymore,” I tell him. “Find some other patsy.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you talk like a geezer?” Chris asks, but I don’t dignify the question with a response.
“So, what are you willing to do?” I ask him. “If you’re going to stay here, I’ll help you, but only if you stop all the scamming and get a real job.”
“Oh, like the ‘real job’ you’ve got?” he asks. “Just invite me to one of your fights and I’ll see if I can’t get my new career off the ground. I can’t wait to work with my little bro!” he mocks.
“If I thought for a second that you had anything like the discipline and determination to fight, I’d train you myself,” I tell him. “That’s not going to happen, though.”
“Hold on a minute,” he says. “We’re just going to gloss right over that? What you do isn’t any more legal than what I do. Where you get off acting like you’re better than—”
“The difference is that I don’t trick anyone into fighting,” I tell him. “I don’t lie or make up stories to get through the door, and if someone wants to back out, that’s on them. The money I make, I make because people bet on me. They know that I get things done. It’s not even the same thing.”
“Potato, tomato,” he says. “It doesn’t matter, only…”
Why did I have a feeling there was another shoe just waiting to drop?
“What?” I ask curtly.
“Well,” he says. “I’m sure you noticed I don’t have my car[3] with me this time.”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I assumed you’d stolen it, though, so I wasn’t expecting to see it again anyway.”
“I didn’t steal it!” he protests. “It was on loan[4].”
“Uh huh,” I yawn. “Who loaned it to you?”
“Well, it was more of an ‘I borrowed it’ thing than a formal loan,” he says.
“Okay, so you stole it then,” I state.
“No—gosh, will you listen to me?” Chris says. “I was working with this guy who works at a dealership. We were doing a new take on the Spanish Prisoner, but when I got that bag of jewelry—”
“Hold on,” I tell him, rubbing my forehead. “So you’re telling me you got this guy to let you use one of the dealership’s car’s, you and him start scamming people together, at which point, you decide to then scam your partner?” I ask.
“In the business world, they call that initiative,” Chris says.