Cross Currents by John Shors

idiot,” Patch replied, his heartbeat quickening as he recalled the chain of events that had led to his escape. “I tried to take the easy road. And everything . . . blew up in my face.”
    â€œWhat easy road?”
    Patch started to respond and then paused. For some reason, he didn’t want Brooke to think less of him, and his story would have that effect. “I feel stupid,” he finally said, putting his cap back on. “Really stupid.”
    â€œDon’t feel that way. We’ve all done stupid things. Everyone inherited that gene.”
    â€œNot like I did.”
    â€œIf you’re reticent to talk about it, that’s okay. I understand.”
    He kept his eyes on her face, wishing that she hadn’t removed her sarong. “I smoked . . . some marijuana a few times in Bangkok. In my guesthouse. Everyone was doing it. Everyone wanted it. I thought I could get a big batch and sell off little batches to the other tourists. With the money, I figured I could add another few weeks to my trip.”
    â€œYou could have just asked me,” Ryan said. “I would have wired you the money.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œJesus.”
    â€œWhat happened then?” Brooke asked, glaring at Ryan.
    â€œWell, this guy who I was buying from turned out to be a cop. He pulled a gun on me, and I just . . . I panicked and knocked it away. And then we were fighting and the gun went off and I punched him and somehow I got out of that room and started running. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. It just happened. All I wanted was to stay longer. I was making friends and having fun and I wanted to stay.”
    Brooke nodded, replaying the scene over in her mind. “Comfort does that.”
    â€œDoes what?”
    â€œYou got too comfortable. With your situation. You got too comfortable and you made a mistake.”
    â€œI should have known better.”
    The water around them darkened as one of the few clouds in sight obscured the sun. Ryan reached down for a plastic bottle of water and offered it to Brooke. After she drank, he did the same. “I’ve talked with people at the American embassy,” he said. “They told me this kind of stuff happens every day. You’ll pay a fine, do some time, and that will be the end of it.”
    â€œThey don’t know what they’re talking about.”
    â€œAnd you do? You know their jobs better than they do?”
    â€œI hit him, Ry. I hit him and I escaped. Do you understand what that means? He lost face. Big-time. And that’s important over here. Really important. Losing face like that doesn’t happen every day, and if he’d caught me in that alley, he probably would have shot me. And if I’m in jail, he’ll probably pay someone to hurt me. So, yeah, I do know what I’m talking about. I’ve been living with the locals for five months. And some Harvard hotshot sitting in his fancy office in Bangkok doesn’t know squat about that.”
    â€œOh, that’s right. He’s a hotshot because he has a degree, because he’s got a great job. That makes him an idiot? What a load of crap. Why don’t you stop talking like you’re seventeen and grow up?”
    Patch looked away from his brother, toward shore. “I’m not going to turn myself in. No way. Anything could happen to me in jail. Anything and everything.”
    â€œDo you understand that I’m trying to help you? That I flew ten thousand miles to help you?”
    â€œThat doesn’t make you right.”
    Ryan swore, squeezing the wooden plank beneath him, the muscles of his forearms tightening. “We pay a few bribes, we ensure your safety. That’s how it’s done. I’ll get you through this. I’ll—”
    â€œI agree with Patch,” Brooke said softly, turning toward Ryan. “I think we should get him out of