Russian Roulette

COOPER CARSON:

“Give me… two,” Amanda said as she placed two cards face down on the basement floor in front of her and drew two cards from the stack between us.

“Alright, it’s time to lay ‘em down!” Brent called as he started a drumroll on his bare thighs. He was already down to his boxer shorts and folded early in an effort to keep them on. Shelly was curled up under a blanket beside him, nursing a can of beer from my parents’ fridge. 

I looked hard at Amanda as she sat cross-legged across from me in her t-shirt and shorts, but she stared back with her best poker face. Steve, who was sitting beside her, peered over her shoulder at her cards.

“Dammit!” Steve blurted out, tossing his cards face up on the floor. 

Amanda pulled her cards to her chest and leaned away from him, feigning surprise. 

“You really thought you could beat me with a pair?” she teased.

“Might as well get this over with,” Steve said as he stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and slipped them off.

Amanda turned to me, biting her lip and trying to hide a smile. My poker face was shot. I could feel myself grinning.

“Let’s see ‘em,” she said.

There’s no way she could beat the hand I was holding.

“Read ‘em. And. Weep,” I said, victoriously laying my cards down in front of me. “That’s a full house, baby!”

“Ooh,” she said, tilting her head and flashing a smile.

Shit.

She laid down her cards.

“Straight flush."

I groaned. 

“Take it off, Cooper,” she said, clapping her hands. “Take it off!”

They all started chanting after her. I stood up and held my hands out to quiet them. “Okay, okay. But Amanda... you may regret winning this round.”

I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my boxers -- the only item of clothing I had left to lose -- bent over and slipped them off, strategically cupping my hand around my crotch as I stood up and held them over my head. My friends erupted in cheers and applause.

“Anybody need another beer?” I asked, moving quickly toward the stairs that led out of the basement.

“I think we all do!” Brent shouted.

Amanda jumped up. “I’m coming with you.”

“You two don’t get lost up there,” Shelly called.

Amanda slapped my bare ass as we topped the staircase, and I spun around. She kissed me.

“You're sure your parents aren't coming back tonight?” she asked.

“No, they’re gone for the weekend. I told you already, you can stay.”

She kissed me again, longer. 

“Don’t come back downstairs without clothes on,” she instructed.

I watched as she grabbed three beers from the refrigerator and disappeared back down the staircase.

I took the other set of stairs two steps at a time up to my room on the second floor, pulled on a pair of jeans, and walked out to head back to the basement. That’s when I had the worst idea I’d had all night.

I walked past the stairs and into my parents’ bedroom. I knew Dad kept his gun in the nightstand when it wasn’t in the safe. And when I pulled the drawer handle, there it was. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe I just wanted to impress Amanda. I picked up my dad's Smith and Wesson snub-nosed 22 and tucked it into my waistband. Then I grabbed a box of ammo, taking care to pick up the box marked "noise blanks" and leave the box of live rounds in the drawer.

When I got back to the basement, Steve and Brent were shotgunning the beers Amanda had brought them.

"Done!” Steve shouted, following up with a long belch.

"Guys!" I called, holding up the pistol. "I've got our next game."

"Cooper, why do you have a gun?!" Shelly asked in shock.

Brent's eyes lit up. "Russian Roulette!"

"No way. That's fucked up," Shelly said grabbing Brent by the arm.

"Don't worry," I said. "I've got blanks. It's perfectly safe.”

"Yeah," Brent added. "Cooper and I have done it before."

"Won't that be too loud?" Steve asked, moving closer. 

"Not as loud as you'd think," I said smiling. 

I put the box of blanks down and flipped open the revolver's cylinder. Then I extracted the live rounds from it into my empty hand and dropped all but one in my pocket. I put down the gun and opened the box of blanks, plucked a cartridge out of the box, and held it out in my hand beside the live round.

"See? They even look different. There's no bullet." I explained.

Everyone moved in close. I felt Amanda's hand on my arm. 

"Cooper, no. This is dumb," she said.

"Just wait. You'll see," I assured her. "It'll be fun."

I put the blank cartridge into the revolver’s cylinder and spun it, then flicked my wrist to swing the cylinder into place. I turned to Amanda and offered it to her. She took it gingerly and held it up in her open hands.

"It's so heavy," she said. 

Steve reached over and cautiously took the gun from her.   

"So here's the game," I announced. "When it's your turn, you'll put a blank in the cylinder, spin it and close it. The other chambers will be empty.”

To my left I heard Steve spin the revolver’s cylinder and flip it closed as if to demonstrate.

“Like that,” I said, smiling. “Then you'll hand it over to whomever you choose, step back to a safe distance and then that person will point the gun at you and pull the trigger. If it goes off, you’re out. If it’s a misfire, the gun goes to the next person. Last man standing wins!”

Holding the gun by the barrel, Steve offered it to Shelly.

“Uh-uh. No way.”

Steve offered it to Brent, and he took it.

“Brent and I will demonstrate,” I said. Everyone took several steps back.

I moved to a spot about eight feet away from Brent. My adrenaline was pumping. Brent raised the gun, pointing it at my chest. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and braced for the bang. Then he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The hammer fell on an empty chamber. I exhaled.

“Ok, so if that happens, the gun goes to the next person,” I explained. “Brent, show them what it sounds like.”

I watched as Brent released the cylinder and spun it so that the chamber occupied by the cartridge would rotate into position under the hammer on the next trigger pull. 

“Ok,” Brent said again. “You ready?’

“Yeah.”

Brent raised the gun.

Bang!

AMANDA PATTERSON:

“Ms. Patterson, when was the last time you saw your boyfriend?” Detective Pennington was sitting in a chair facing me, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. I was sitting on the couch in our living room beside my mother.

I wasn’t crying, but I wondered if I should have been. If that was suspicious. A lump rose in my throat, and I tried to swallow it.

“Last night,” I choked out.

“Last night?” my mother asked, surprised. “Honey, you were at Shelly’s last night.”

“No, Mom, I wasn’t.” 

“Well, where were you?” Mom asked.

“Mrs. Patterson, please,” the detective said to her. “Your daughter is 18. Perhaps it’s better if you let me talk to her alone.”

Pennington looked over to the detective standing at the end of the couch to my right. “Booker? Could you kindly escort Mrs. Patterson into the kitchen?”

Mom didn’t want to leave. I could see it. She was so pissed at me.

“Mom, please,” I begged.

Finally, she nodded at me and followed Detective Booker into the kitchen, out of earshot but still in sight.

“Now... Amanda,” the detective said slowly. “Where did you see Cooper?”

“We were at his house. Graduation is coming up and we all… got together to celebrate.”

“We all?”

“Yeah. Me, Cooper, Shelly Rodriguez, and Steve Cook.”

I can’t tell him about Brent. Cooper wouldn’t want me to tell him about Brent, right? God, please, don’t ask me about Brent. 

“Uh-huh,” he said, waiting.

“We… drank some beers and played strip poker. Cooper’s parents were out of town. Then… I left?” 

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “You asking me?”

“What? No. I left. I left after the game.” 

“So, let me get this straight. You sell your mom this story about sleeping over at your friend Shelly’s, you play strip poker at your boyfriend’s house, his parents are out of town, and yet you decide not to spend the night?”

Shit. He knows I’m lying. 

“Mm-hm,” is all I could muster. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

“You’re lying to me, Amanda.”

I buried my face in my hands. 

He continued, “Did you know we found blood in the basement at Cooper’s house?”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I started balling.

“Amanda, how did Cooper end up on the side of the road two blocks from home?”

“Wait, what?” I asked. 

“A jogger found him and called 911. How did he get there?”

That didn't make sense to me. My mind was racing. When I had left, Brent and Steve were putting Cooper in the car. They were going to the hospital.

"How did he get there, Amanda?" Pennington prodded.

“I don’t know!” I shot back at him. “Look, when I left, Steve was with him. Shelly brought me home. That’s it!”

I doubled over again burying my head back in my hands to cry some more. 

My mom hurried back into the room and put her arm around me as she sat down.

“I think that’s enough,” Mom said. “I’d like you to leave now.”

The detective put his hands up. “Okay,” he said. “But we may have some more questions for you, Amanda. Down at the station. And the next time I ask, I’d like to hear the truth.”

STEVE COOK:

“Thank you for coming down to the station on such short notice, Mr. Cook. I'm Detective Pennington. This is Booker.”

I had been waiting for the two detectives for over an hour in the interrogation room.

“Am I under arrest? Do I need a lawyer?” I asked as they sat down with me. Booker took the chair across from me and Pennington sat down at the end of the table to my left. 

“Do you believe you need one?” Pennington asked. 

“No…”

“When was the last time you saw Cooper Carson?” 

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“At his house.”

“What were you doing there?”

“He invited me over -- me and some other friends -- for a party. His parents were out of town.”

“And what happened at the party?”

“We… had some beers. Played strip poker…” I hesitated.

“And then?”

“And… ” I took a breath. “Look, Cooper lost the game and ran upstairs naked with Amanda. I thought they were going upstairs to get busy. But then Amanda came back with beer and Cooper came back with a gun.”

“Where did he get the gun?”

“I… think it was his dad’s. He showed us a box of blanks and said he wanted to play Russian Roulette.”

“Well, he didn’t shoot himself.”

“No… he didn’t.”

I cupped my hands around my nose and mouth and breathed into them.

“Who shot him?” Pennington prodded. “Was it you?”

“No. It wasn’t me... It was Brent.”

“Brent?”

“Brent Dickerson. Cooper’s best friend.”

“Mr. Cook, I’ve got a witness that identifies you as the last person seen with Cooper Carson. This is the first time I’ve heard anything about Brent Dickerson.”

"Wait. I can prove it.” I fished my phone out of my pocket. “I have a video.”

“A video?”

“Yeah,” I said as I unlocked the phone and tapped on the app to open my camera roll. I tapped on the video’s thumbnail and slid my phone down the table to Pennington. Detective Booker walked over to stand behind him.

Pennington tapped the play button and I heard our voices, the misfire, Cooper telling Brent to adjust the cylinder... Then the shot.

“They said they’d played before. Roulette. With blanks,” I explained. 

“That wasn’t a blank that went into his chest.”

“Cooper put the blank in the gun himself. We all saw him.”

Pennington replayed the video before he spoke again.

“Can you think of any reason Brent would have wanted to kill Cooper?” Pennington asked.

I shook my head, “No. No, not unless…” I couldn’t believe I was going to say it. “Cooper and Amanda were dating, but Brent had a thing for Amanda. Maybe he was jealous and saw an opportunity?”

“Okay… So how did Cooper end up on the side of the road two blocks away?”

“Maybe… Brent got scared? Dumped him there? I don’t know.”

BRENT DICKERSON:

“Against my advice, my client wants to speak with you about the events that occurred two nights ago concerning Cooper Carson. I expect his cooperation to be reflected in your recommendation to the D.A.,” my attorney asserted. 

"I just want to tell my side of the story," I added. "Cooper was my best friend. I never intended to hurt him."

"Son, the video I have shows you point a gun at your so-called friend and pull the trigger. That looks a lot like intent to me," said Detective Pennington.

"Video?"

"Oh, your friend Steve didn’t tell you? He caught the whole thing on video. And he gave us a motive too. Said you had a hard-on for Amanda and didn't like that Cooper was getting in your way."

"What? No, you've got it wrong. It wasn't like that. Amanda’s just a friend. And the gun was supposed to have a blank in it. Not a bullet. I saw Cooper put it in there himself."

Pennington thought for a moment.

"Okay… let's say you're telling the truth. If all Cooper had was blanks, where did that bullet even come from?" Pennington asked.

I shook my head.

"The gun had live rounds in it when Cooper brought it down…" I said. "He took them out..."

My mind was racing. So much of that night was a blur.

"Look," Detective Pennington leaned forward and lowered his voice. "To be honest… we don't believe you wanted to kill Cooper, but the video is pretty damning. It would help a lot if we had the gun. We didn't find it at Cooper's house."

He was essentially asking for my confession. The part of it that wasn’t in the video.

“My client has nothing more...” my attorney began, but I interrupted her.

“Yeah, okay... I can tell you where it is."

The detective slid a notepad and a pen over in front of me. "Write it down. Everything you remember from the time you shot Cooper until you got rid of the gun and where." 

So I did.

"Did Steve also put you up to dumping Cooper out on the side of the road?"

"What? No! Nobody put me up to it!" The words were coming out faster than my brain could organize them. "I mean, I didn't dump him out on the side of the road. I wasn't even with him!"

"We found blood in your car after your arrest, Mr. Dickerson."

"I think that's enough," my lawyer said. "I'm ending this interview."

"No!" I shouted. I drew in a breath and tried to keep my hands from shaking. "Steve said he was going to take Cooper to the hospital and that he needed my car to do it because we rode to Cooper's together. He said I shouldn't be there, and he told me to walk home."

"Is there any way you can prove that?" Pennington asked. “Did anyone see you?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. 

SHELLY RODRIGUEZ:

“Yeah, I picked him up. Brent said Steve was taking Cooper to the hospital in his car. I told him that was a bad idea.”

“And where did you take him?” Detective Pennington asked.

“I took him home. Stayed with him the rest of the night.”

“Did he still have the gun when you picked him up?”

“What?”

“The gun. Did he have it when you picked him up?” 

“No…” My answer hung in the air for a moment. 

“Ms. Rodriguez, we recovered the gun. The bullet casing was still in it.”

Shit.

He continued, “Would you believe that we pulled the fingerprints of four different people off of that tiny 22 bullet casing?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Four. And one of those prints was yours.”

COOPER CARSON:

“She confessed?” I asked.

Pennington nodded, “She said you dropped one of the bullets after you showed them the blanks. She picked it up and handed it to Steve. Watched him put it in the gun. We got his prints off the casing too.”

“What about the other prints? Were they Brent’s and Amanda’s?”

“Yours and your father’s.” 

I nodded and looked at the floor. 

I don’t remember much about that night after Brent shot me. Just that I blacked out and woke up in an ambulance. Since then I’ve had multiple surgeries to remove bullet fragments and repair soft tissue, and I’ve been relegated to a wheelchair for the foreseeable future.

“I just don’t understand why,” I said. “Especially Shelly.”

The detective sighed. “Shelly was angry about the game. Scared for Brent. Wanted to teach both of you a lesson.”

“And Steve?”

“He lawyered up. No confessions except maybe to his attorney.”

He didn’t have to confess. I could guess that Steve saw it as an opportunity. He had been with Amanda before she started dating me, and he wanted her back. When I didn’t die in the basement, he decided to make sure I didn’t make it to the hospital.

“Mr. Carson,” Pennington said, “you’re lucky. You got a second chance. Don’t gamble it away.”

I looked up at him and nodded. “You bet.”