by Vicky Jones
"Well, it worked! We don't want this anymore, Kyle. Time and time again we bail you out when you owe no-good thugs money for God knows what! Your father is livid."
"Yeah? It's not like you can't afford it, Mother," Kyle snapped back. There was a long pause. "Look, Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I–"
"Son … I've always, always defended you, even though it's caused nothing but upset between me and your father. You've had the best upbringing, the nicest house and you went to the best school. But this has gone too far."
"Uh huh. So, you're happy to let your only child get beat up? What kinda mother's that?"
"The kind of mother who paid those other thugs off last year in secret so your father wouldn't find out," she fired back.
"Yeah, I bet you have a lot of secrets from each other, huh?"
"Why you saying this?" Kyle's mother sounded tearful.
"You should be helping your son. Why's that gotta be a secret?"
"Because you’ve got yourself involved with the wrong people, Kyle. Drugs, gambling? You're thirty-four years old, for God's sake. You've had more than enough money out of us."
Kyle sat down and took a swig of whiskey straight from the near-empty bottle.
"Didn't realize there was a limit to my mother's affections." He rolled the whiskey over the front of his teeth, sucking the air through them.
"That's not fair, Kyle."
"The truth ain't, is it, Mother?"
"That him?" Kyle heard a deep voice in the background.
"Kyle?" His father barked.
"Father."
"I'm gon' give it to you straight now; I've paid 'em. But they said you owe more. You're on your own. Don't you dare speak to your mother like that and, in case you're wondering, you ain't getting a goddamn PENNY of inheritance after the money you've blown. You're a disgrace, the dirty deals you've done to some good folk back here! You're no son o'mine."
The line went dead.
Kyle was left with the dull burr of the dial tone as he drained the last dregs of his bottle and swept his arm along the smartly organized desk, sending his letter tray and notepad flying.
Chapter 26
"What the hell is it this time? We have more goddamn meetings than Eisenhower!" Elbie scoffed under his breath to Shona and Cuban.
Everybody made their way to the usual place in the canteen late that Friday afternoon, pleasantly surprised to see Jeffrey Ellis emerge up top, giving everybody a warm smile.
"Wish he was around here more," Shona leaned in to whisper to Cuban.
"Good mornin', everybody. I know y'all busy so I don't want to take up too much of your time," Ellis began, leaning over the balcony.
"Take as much time as you want, m'friend!" Elbie said in a low voice.
"I want to take this opportunity to introduce to you one of the new managers here at Ellis and Bruce."
Shona looked to the right of Ellis as Larry Bruce and Kyle walked out and stood together, not looking happy.
"I've been impressed with his professionalism, integrity and hard work. Please join me in congratulatin' Mr. Ron Black." Ellis swept his right arm outwards.
A tall, balding man emerged onto the balcony. He looked to be in his late thirties and was as smartly dressed as Ellis in his three-piece suit. Ron Black was an island at the company, a safe pair of hands who never caused a fuss and never joined in with the harsh treatment. He just did his job.
Ellis concluded his introduction and instigated a round of hearty applause. Bruce and Kyle slow clapped, the outpouring of affection for Ron grating on them.
During the applause, Ellis leaned in towards Ron, knowing his voice would be drowned out. "Ron, I want you to be my eyes and ears here. Tell me everything that goes on."
Ron nodded and smiled back at the cheering crowd.
The meeting was called to a close and the workers began mingling below the balcony, none of them in any rush to get back to work. Elbie pointed across the crowded room.
"There she is, sweet little thing."
Chloe Bruce had made her way down the steps from the management balcony to wander amongst the workers when Cuban and Shona both glanced over.
"She spoke to me when I was out in the field the other day. She seemed to really listen," Cuban added.
Spotting the three of them across the distance, Chloe began making her way over.
"I'm goin' back to work," Shona said quietly as she passed behind Elbie and headed towards the door leading outside.
"Shona, wait!" Cuban darted away just as Chloe neared Elbie, her face breaking out into the purest, most natural smile he'd seen in a long time.
Elbie had always been fond of the young Miss Bruce and, in the short time she'd been home, noticed that she'd matured into the total opposite of her brutish father. She was honest, kind and very considerate of the workers she'd soon inherit. She always made time to check they were happy and helped where she could with their problems, even if it was just to listen. Elbie was protective of her when the less well-mannered workers dared to make any unsavory comments about her perfectly proportioned body. He always made sure those pigs were reminded just who was going to be paying their wages in a few years' time. That usually did the trick. Elbie relied on his wits rather than his less-than-intimidating physical strength to get his points across. He greeted her as she approached him, her eyes dimming slightly as she looked over his shoulder.
Cuban raced after Shona, who moved as if she was trying to outrun a lion.
"Wait, you OK?"
"I'll see y'later," she replied bluntly.
Cuban stared down the corridor at Shona's back as she turned the corner. Shaking his head, he headed back to his changing space to gear up for his next rancid job of the day, wondering what was eating away at his friend.
Nearing the door, a noise coming from inside stopped him in his tracks. He was shocked when he looked in to see Kyle decimating what little private space he had. Splinters of wood from his shelf and cupboard were everywhere, his metal locker completely caved in and its lockless door hanging by its broken hinges. What little clothing Cuban had was ripped to shreds, axle grease smeared all over his satchel.
Kyle approached with a smirk, knowing Cuban was powerless.
"Locker check."
"Anybody else been checked?" He forced the words through his clenched mouth, knowing the answer.
Kyle whistled to Deputy Paul who sauntered over.
"Don't like our rules?"
Cuban swallowed.
"You know what you can do? Fucking leave!" Kyle pummelled the last two words verbally into Cuban's face, droplets of spit landing in his eyes.
"I suggest he comes with me, what d'you say, boss?" Deputy Paul's face was emotionless as he stared straight at Cuban, tapping his short wooden staff into the palm of his opposite hand.
"Excellent idea, Paul!" Kyle smirked as Cuban was strong-armed out of the changing space and down the corridor.
Chapter 27
Chloe Bruce had felt the dull ache of her restless spirit constantly since the day she'd returned to Daynes. Her studies in the city had finished and, with her older brother gone, she was needed at home to do as all good Southern daughters should. Her only escape from the monotony of her new corporate role was to saddle up that Saturday morning and put on a baggy cotton shirt, comfy slacks and riding boots. It was the only time her cluttered, swirling mind felt still and when she felt the soft breeze through her untied hair, her inner wildness was released.
Resisting the urge yet again to jump the fence of the paddocks that surrounded the family estate, she returned to the house to find her father in the living room slouched on the sofa, slugging whiskey and watching the same old game show he’d watched for years. He was still just as bad as ever at guessing the answers, his frustration growing with every glass of liquor that he sloshed down his throat.
"GODDAMN it. I knew it was that! I swear this damn show’s rigged!" He drained his glass and immediately poured himself another.
> "I'm going down to my den to do some painting," Chloe said with a sigh, deciding not to linger while her father berated the contestants as he gulped his shot down and jangled the ice cubes in his glass at the television in condemnation of their incorrect answers.
"OK, Princess, but I wish you wouldn't waste your time doing that stuff. There's no money to be made there. The business is where you will make your money, sweetheart," he replied, his eyes not diverting from the screen.
"I enjoy it, Daddy. I think I'm pretty good at it."
She didn't get a reply.
"Yes! I knew that one," he screeched at the television, only being snapped back to reality by the shrill of the telephone.
"Yeah?" He listened for a moment, then looked at Chloe. "Honey, it's a private call."
"Sure." She sidled out of the room.
Bruce waited until he was certain Chloe was out of earshot.
"Yeah…Right…OK, I'll just tell Ellis one of the machines packed up and I took the money from the safe to fix it. You leave it with me. I'm on my way. Get the cards ready." He slammed the phone down.
Eleanor Bruce knew exactly what she was looking for that same Saturday afternoon. There was only one shop in town that was chic enough for her expensive tastes. As Larry's wife she wanted for nothing, the townsfolk revering her like a celebrity. She was the Bette Davis of Daynes, in her late forties and always immaculately dressed and coiffed. Her brown hair, with not even the merest hint of gray in it, was pinned up high in a bun on her head, combed and smoothed meticulously. Her stylish pale blue two-piece suit was this season's latest design, to go with her Chanel handbag and pumps. Mrs. Bruce was responsible for making or breaking local fashion establishments—a nod or recommendation from her would virtually guarantee a rush on a particular garment. Her business was a sought-after prize. As she made her way down the main sidewalk through town, window blinds twitched and shop assistants crossed their fingers that within minutes their door bells would tinkle.
Stella's Boutique was Eleanor's destination. Nowhere else would suffice today.
"Well, hello there, Mrs. Bruce. How are you on this fine day?" Stella greeted her with the usual over-the-top grace while subtly trying to organize her staff with a flurry of hand gestures behind a browsing Eleanor Bruce's back.
"Hi sweetie," Eleanor chirped over her shoulder.
"Now, what can I do for you, ma'am? What fancy dinner you goin' to this time?" Stella asked. Charlie, her assistant, looked over as he straightened out some clothes hanging on the rails with precise attention to detail.
"It's not for me, actually; it's for my daughter, Chloe."
"Well now, I heard she was back in town. Home where she belongs with you and Mr. Bruce, ain't that right, Charlie?" Stella shot a look towards her assistant who looked around sharply, broken out of his concentration. He nodded his agreement even though he hadn't heard the question.
"So, what's the occasion?" Stella continued, unashamedly prying.
"She has a date with Kyle Chambers." Eleanor announced the name of Chloe's date deliberately loudly, knowing the impact that statement was going to make with the town gossip. “Stella-the-teller” couldn't keep her mouth shut. It would be all around Daynes by the end of the day, and Alabama by the end of the week, no doubt.
But that was the idea.
"Kyle Chambers? Now, she is one lucky woman! But hey now, so is he. She's the catch of Daynes, hell, of all Alabama. They're a match made in heaven," Stella gushed. "And I'm sure if you can't find anythin' off the rack, then Charlie here could work his magic and make somethin' real special – he’s got some lovely silk and velvet in the back!" Stella stared at Charlie, who nodded again, fiddling with the tape measure draped around his neck.
"It has to be something gorgeous. I want him to be completely hypnotized by her!" Eleanor clasped her hands together.
"Oh, he will be. How long has Miss Chloe been courting him?"
"Well, it's kinda like a blind date, you know?" Eleanor screwed up her face into a snorting laugh.
"So, Miss Chloe doesn't know 'bout it?" Stella asked, raising an eyebrow.
"She will, and when she does she’ll be over the moon, just like we will be when they are the next power couple of Alabama. Who knows? A wedding may soon follow."
"You got this all figured out, ain't 'cha?" Stella wagged a finger.
"I'm not gon' let this one get away. I'll make Chloe see what a smart move it’ll be to date him. Now, Stella darlin', show me those stunning dresses."
Chapter 28
As the blood-red sun dipped below the horizon, the Bruces sat in their opulent dining room on Sunday evening, ready to dig into the delicious-looking food their housekeeper was laying on the table. Antonia had worked for the Bruces as long as Chloe could remember. Now in her fifties, she was more like a friend to her–and made the best pot roast she'd ever tasted. This evening, though, Antonia noticed her absentmindedly pushing a piece of beef around her plate. As she refilled Chloe's glass with water, she put a gentle hand on her shoulder, her kindly features soft and warm as usual but with a tinge of concern for the girl she had loved all these years as if she were her own.
"Larry, your dinner's goin' cold. Put that newspaper down!" Eleanor chided for the third time.
"You seen this bullshit? Segregation in schools being banned. What's this damn world coming to?"
Bruce slammed the newspaper down and sat back in his dining chair in a huff, snatching his reading glasses from his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"El, I'm glad we paid for our princess to go to the best schools without bein' around those kind. My God, if she had to share a class with a damn colored…"
Chloe picked at her food.
"You're right, dear. Now eat!" Eleanor instructed.
She put on her napkin and started her meal as Bruce picked up his knife and fork.
"D'you realize how good you had it, Chloe?"
Bruce wiped his mouth on his napkin as he felt his mustache moisten with spit and gravy. Chloe took a large intake of breath, releasing it quietly.
"You just don't know what diseases they carry. I mean, I heard you could die by just being next to them," Eleanor added, shivering.
"I met quite a few colored people when I went traveling on my time off from college and I'm still alive," Chloe said, her eyes not leave her plate.
Bruce stopped chewing. He and Eleanor stared at their daughter, the ticking from the antique gold carriage clock on the marble stone mantelpiece the only sound audible in the room for the next five seconds. Finally, Bruce swallowed the food he’d held in his mouth.
"I don't want you makin' friends with 'em. D'you hear me? They rape, they steal and they lie. They’ll try and suck you in to liking them, then boom. Before y'know it, the whole town will be crawling with them like locusts. No, that ain't happenin', not while I still have air in my lungs," Bruce raged, flecks of food flying through his mustache and landing on the tablecloth.
"Have you actually spoken to Cuban?" Chloe put her knife and fork down gently onto her china plate.
Antonia bit her bottom lip to stifle a smile at Chloe's bravery. She really had grown up–and it was a breath of fresh air in this house of hostility. Antonia had never truly understood why two people as rich and successful as Larry and Eleanor Bruce could still be so bitter with the world around them.
Bruce looked up from his plate in surprise. "I don't care what he has to say, other than Mr. Bruce, I'm leavin'."
Chloe raised her eyebrows, meeting Antonia's equally tired-looking expression.
"Now, honey, he’s probably crawlin' with God knows what. You stay away. I don't want you bringing anything into this beautiful house. Don't you go getting attached and feelin' sorry for 'em–that's how they trick you," Eleanor warned. "Anyway, sweetheart, on another more important subject, what d'you think of Kyle?" She changed the subject of the conversation effortlessly.
"Kyle?" Chloe looked at her mother in surprise.
"Yes," E
leanor said with a nod.
"Well, he's alright. I don't really talk to him much. He seems up his own backside most of the time. He's not very nice to some of the workers. Why?"
"We were just wonderin'. He's made quite an impression on the ladies who are eager to become Mrs. Chambers." A smile was creeping across Eleanor's normally icy exterior.
"Well, I would say…" Chloe paused to sip her water. "They're welcome to him!"
It wasn't the answer her parents were hoping for.
"Give the guy a chance," Bruce said.
Chloe remained silent. She made her peace with the uneaten food on her plate and rose out of her chair, itching to get to the sanctuary of her bedroom. When she was out of earshot, Bruce looked across to his wife.
"What we gon' do? You're gon' have to work harder on her, El."
"Don't worry. You leave it to me."
Chapter 29
The Copperpot Inn was the unlikely destination of the Ellis and Bruce workforce that following Friday evening. Jeffrey Ellis had hired the bar out in celebration of Ron Black's promotion and all of his employees, most of whom had never seen the inside of this normally exclusive venue, had been invited. After witnessing the abuse Cuban had suffered and the hostilities she’d experienced so far, Shona hadn't particularly been looking forward to the event.
"Hey Shona, you want another drink?"
Randy waddled over and sat at a small table next to her.
"No thanks," Shona replied, staring at the door every time it opened.
"Your buddy couldn't make it tonight. He got…busy." Deputy Paul swaggered over to the table, flashing Shona a grisly gray-toothed grin.
"Who? Cuban?" Ellis overheard Deputy Paul. "That man deserves to be here like everybody else!"
Larry Bruce rolled his eyes as he walked up behind Deputy Paul.
"Next time, Mr. Ellis," Deputy Paul replied, then glared at Shona as he and Bruce headed to the free bar.
