by C. L. Stone
Victor pressed his lips tightly together. He was going to blame the young kid Victor met at the library?
“Should we continue?” Mr. Perkins asked. He crossed the room and sat where Victor’s mother had been sitting across from Mitch.
George was in the corner, looking at his cell phone with drink refreshed. He gazed at Victor, a question in his eyes, mild interest, about what was going on. “He’s been regaling me with such wit,” he said in an obviously bored tone.
Victor shook his head, ready this time. “About what happened—”
“They were doing the nasty in the parking lot,” Mitch cut in. “And then he was with that guy... What’s his name? Probably gross things.”
Victor rolled his eyes, as the way he made it sound was he and Mr. Buble were doing things together. “May I please finish?” he said with a fierce bite to his tone.
“Why?” Mitch raised a palm in the air, waving it around. “You’ll just lie. Kids do. You need to listen to me.”
“Perhaps, then,” Mr. Perkins said to Mitch, glaring him down, “maybe we can move on to why you’re here.”
“Their lies got me fired,” he said. “I read the papers. I’ll tell them about what he’s been doing. I’ll tell them he’s getting poor librarians fired. I’ll tell a lawyer. And you know it’s true because he’s here defending himself.”
Victor wanted to say he wasn’t even fired yet and it was him really belittling and treating his boss so poorly that got him suspended, not his arguments about Victor, but again, Mr. Perkins, with his thin fingers twitching, made the motion to not say anything.
“And what would you believe your lawyer will do?” Mr. Perkins now interjected. His voice was hoarse but soft. The softness, Victor knew very well, was a lure to encourage cooperation. At least until he got the information he wanted and could shut down what this was.
“He’d sue,” Mitch said. To fix his glasses at his nose, he touched the glass at the corner, leaving a fingerprint amid a few other prints. His eyes drifted to the furniture, the lamps, the bookshelves of the parlor. “I think you can afford to pay the salary I lost, plus mental... uh... where you get more money for needing a therapist.”
“Are you suggesting mental duress?” Mr. Perkins asked.
Mitch started to nod.
“So you’re saying you’re suffering from terrible paranoia and trauma that has caused physiological damages that a doctor can verify?”
Mitch blinked repeatedly. “Uh...”
“You likely understand that the court system is very busy and it can take a couple of years to even come to trial? You might need to visit a psychiatrist regularly to establish your case.” He glanced over his shoulder to George. “I don’t recall, how much are psychiatrist visits now?”
“Without insurance?” George answered with a sneer and a short shrug. “Maybe $400 each visit. But I’d guess the library has excellent coverage. But then, if you’re fired...”
Mitch nodded just an inch further but stopped. “I... you see...”
Instead of going further, Mr. Perkins waited for Mitch to answer, and the drawn-out silence became much more awkward.
While Mr. Perkins was doing whatever he was doing, George in the corner continued to look at his phone nonchalantly.
Victor stood aside, understanding his father knew his role in this without asking. In a sense, this is what he needed to be. Despite his father always drinking, he was so used to these sorts of meetings with the lawyer, he knew exactly how to read Mr. Perkins and do what he wanted. He was the adult and head of the household, so taking charge of this situation over his son was expected. Maybe Victor should let him handle it?
“And how much did you think young Mr. Victor Morgan would be able to pay you, sir?” Mr. Perkins asked Mitch after he blustered about enough. “What amount did you assume he’d be able to grant, perhaps after a couple of years and a successful outcome?”
Mitch grumbled a little low and spoke. “How much is his reputation worth? A couple million? What’s that to you?”
“Two years of going back and forth in court proceedings would risk your reputation more than his, wouldn’t it?”
Mitch’s face twitched in the corner, near his jaw.
“And I believe what you’re saying is you’d blackmail his reputation,” Mr. Perkins motioned to Victor with a flourish, “unless given just a couple million dollars?”
This was where it was getting interesting. Mr. Perkins making Mitch rethink what he was doing by pointing out the flaws in his plan to make it look like he’d be in more trouble.
“He got me fired,” Mitch said.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Perkins said. “I thought you were suspended at current, not fired.”
“I...”
“I spoke with the head librarian,” Mr. Perkins said. “Naturally.”
“But...”
Mr. Perkins kept cutting him off. “I can recall there are several eyewitnesses. If you’re hoping to squander Victor Morgan’s reputation to salvage your own, in whatever format, attempting to use the legal system for blackmail might not be the best solution.” He paused, standing up and coming a step closer to Mitch but also using that soft tone again from before. “A few years without income waiting for a lawsuit that might land you in jail doesn’t sound like a particularly good plan. So, as I was asking you before, what exactly are you doing here and what are you wanting?”
Mitch stuttered syllables, seeming to choke down his own saliva. “I... ugh... he...”
“Offer to apologize,” Mr. Buble said in Victor’s ear.
“What if I apologized?” Victor asked out loud instantly. He did say he’d come and apologize. If this was wrong, Mr. Perkins would say.
“Apologies don’t pay the bills,” Mitch muttered, although quieter.
“Talk to the librarian to tell her to rehire him,” Mr. Buble said.
“I can talk to the head librarian,” Victor said. “I could see to it that she’d have to hire you back or offer you a better position.” He didn’t want to let on they’d likely try to push him into that other job too much, but at least open up the idea.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “You think some kid can just walk in and do that?”
“I can.” Victor’s tone lowered a notch, not wanting to give all this to Mitch, but not feeling like he had a choice. “If I donated to the library. They should give in to my request.”
Mr. Perkins interrupted, stepping away from Mitch and started to cross the room to Victor. “I think matters of any compensation...”
George made a gentle motion with a single finger. “Wait.”
Mr. Perkins stopped instantly.
“Let him dig his own hole,” he said. He remained focused on the phone and didn’t look at Victor.
Victor rolled his eyes. “If I offer to help, will you leave my parents out of this? I just wanted you to leave me alone.”
Mitch seemed to consider this option. “Tell the head librarian you were doing what I said.”
Victor said nothing.
“So she knows I was right.”
Was being right more important to him than the rest of it?
Mitch continued, “And you can tell them that one dickhead that was with you is a pervert and get him fired.”
Mr. Buble said something in his ear but Victor couldn’t hear him because he was already reacting. “You know what? Never mind. Get fired. Get arrested. Try to sue this family.”
“Victor,” his father said, the tone clearly stating he should keep quiet.
Victor sliced a hand through the air. “No! I’m not going to lie about—”
“This was your fault,” Mitch’s voice rose back and he opened his mouth, ready to argue again.
His father suddenly stood, shoulders back, head high, his anger suddenly on the surface. “Everyone. Shut up. I’ve had enough.” He quickly picked up a document on top of a folder that had been sitting next to him on a side table. He crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed this a
nd a pen to Mitch. “Sign this and agree to the terms and you’ll be given a full compensation package.”
Mitch delicately took the paper from him, adjusting the glasses to look carefully at the words on the page.
“I think you’ll find the number agreeable,” he said.
Mitch puckered his lips and nodded. It was unclear if he even read the rest of the document at all that quickly, or just waited for a number. “You’ll give me this much if I sign it?”
Mr. Perkins pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and handed it over. “Precisely. You promise to never say a word and handle your own affairs from this point without bringing in this family. You’ll never see Victor again. We’ll have the library quietly delete this incident from your record, and make it look like you opted to take your life in a different direction and quit. You walk away clean and with several years to find another position you’d like, with glowing recommendations, or maybe even consider it early retirement. The library can find a new employee. Everyone gets what they want. You may have your lawyer read it if you’d like, but we can’t leave here until it’s signed.”
“And a lawyer would take his cut,” George said.
It had been prepared ahead of time, just in case Mitch couldn’t be reasoned with. The moment he insisted on getting others fired or talked about, it was a step too far. Protecting Mr. Buble, consequently, was protecting people here, too.
Unfortunately, it was giving Mitch exactly what he wanted... but it did solve the problem; he’d be removed from his job and didn’t need to go back. He could harass kids on his own time.
Mitch readily signed, of course.
Mr. Perkins smiled at this. “It’s a good choice, sir. Agreeing to stay silent about the whole matter. I’d suggest maybe going away for a while. A vacation. When was the last time you went anywhere?”
Mitch’s eyes waggled back and forth, not focusing on anything. “I could go on a cruise.”
He was spending the money in his head, right in front of them all.
Within moments, a check was surrendered. Victor could only stand by while Mitch was paid off and left the house.
When he departed, and when it was clear Mitch was off in his car and gone, Mr. Perkins remained in the parlor with his father.
“You knew he’d ask too much?” Victor asked. “Mitch couldn’t be reasoned with?”
George ignored Victor and spoke with Mr. Perkins. “Make sure he can get on a cruise to the ends of the earth. And see that he can get lured into remaining there...”
Mr. Perkins shook George’s hand and gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll never see him again.”
George looked at Victor as Mr. Perkins walked out of the room. Victor was surprised at him, his father, taking charge after Victor bumbled his way through with nothing to show for it. They didn’t need him at all for this. They just wanted him to see he couldn’t do it on his own.
George wiped at his lower lip with his thumb, as if sensing something wet still remained and he wanted to clean it off. “You’ll learn,” he said darkly. “One day, when you really grow up, you’ll know.”
“I see it,” Victor said, his shoulders sagging and he gazed off toward the window, the curtains were drawn but the light of daytime brightening the room. “I see what happens.”
“To protect this family’s reputation,” he said. “The thing she really wanted. A legacy.” George started walking out of the room, but stopped, looking down at his son next to him. “We are a legacy, Victor. We can’t stop it. We have been left this burden.”
“If you’re unhappy, you could leave,” Victor grumbled.
George tilted his head. “Exactly where do you think I could go? What do you think would happen if I just left?”
“Mom would be happy.” Victor wasn’t sure what came over him to say so.
George narrowed his eyes. “Technically. But she wants me here.”
“She thinks her reputation would be ruined, but not if you go on that cruise with Mitch.” Victor tilted his head and glared at his father, a drunk who pushed Victor to do whatever his mother said. “Not if you go so far no one heard from you again. You can get out. If you want.”
George swerved where he stood and turned toward the door. “There’s nowhere far enough for me.” His footsteps echoed as he left the parlor and crossed the house to continue up the stairs.
A thickness lingered in the air, catching in Victor’s lungs. The darkness around them. The unhappy marriage. His mother and the almost manic way she strived to build up their reputation, something his father couldn’t handle and drank to escape. The way this family wasn’t a family at all. Just an illusion to maintain a legacy that had little purpose beyond whatever his mother envisioned.
If only Victor could have warned Mitch, and if only he could have spared him from himself.
Money didn’t guarantee happiness or any sort of serenity. It couldn’t help you escape who you really are, or at least, who you start pretending to be.
This whole house was full of people pretending.
Pesante
(Heavy, ponderous)
Sang
Nathan and I were left alone with Mrs. Morgan as Victor and Mr. Perkins stepped out of the office.
My lungs burned. Fear tripped down my spine. I was afraid I’d faint right here in front of her.
Her blazing eyes. So much like Victor’s and yet so different. A cold fire. Hateful.
“You’ll tell him to come back,” Mrs. Morgan said in a dark tone the moment it was likely Victor was out of range. “Tell him it’s for his own good.”
“He can go where he wants,” Nathan said.
“It hasn’t been a week,” she said. “What do you think will happen if he spends more time away? His father claims it’ll do him some good, but I don’t want to risk his future any more.” She looked squarely at me.
I tried not to flinch, and only succeeded because I was frozen to the spot with fear.
Without hesitation though, Nathan repeated, with as serious a tone as I’d ever heard. “He can go where he wants.”
Mrs. Morgan shook her head and waved a single finger in the air. “I’ve never met such selfish children...”
Nathan looked like he’d say more, but I put a hand on his arm.
We weren’t going to win her over.
I wasn’t totally sure she was wrong about everything. Victor seemed very upset about trying to decide if he should stay with us or return to his mother. In a way, she was right. His face was so well known, being seen together might risk many things: my chances at being a ghost bird, his ability to play the concerts for charities that he liked to do, our chances at being in the Academy as full members at all.
Nathan was right, too, it was his choice. But I wasn’t so sure what he would choose. And he should have that choice. Coming with us meant staying in the shadows.
Like I had been forced to do by my parents. Victor should be able to choose which life he wanted.
And even if he chose us... how could we ever make it work? How many times would he get caught like this and they take it to his parents? I was surprised he had gone so far in the Academy and not been caught.
Even Volto knew where he lived and invaded his home so easily. He had taken pictures of myself and him. It’s a wonder he didn’t manipulate Victor’s parents often as well like this, to try to sue for money.
Mrs. Morgan, perhaps realizing she wasn’t going to get much else out of us, turned quickly to the door of the office and left it open, with us still inside. Not a word more.
I finally breathed, but still felt the weight of being in this house, feeling unwanted.
“There has to be a way,” Nathan whispered, and I wasn’t sure if he spoke to me or himself.
And as if knowing what we were thinking, Mr. Buble’s voice popped into my ear, like before when he encouraged me with what to say.
“There’s always a way.”
That gave me some hope.
♥♥♥
We waited on the back porch. It wasn’t long before Victor returned to us, looking equally as defeated.
“I’m guessing it’s over?” Nathan asked.
Victor shook his head glumly. “Mitch is over. But...” He moved his lips, wanting to say more, but never really finished. We knew the problem. He had to figure out what to do.
Victor started to walk to the car, but before he could go further, Nathan surprisingly reached out for his elbow and held off going any further. “One second. Someone needs a hug.”
Victor rolled his eyes and shook his head, although with a half grin on his face. “I don’t...”
“Luke’s not here to do it, and I know he’s normally the hugger, but I’ll fill in.” Nathan reached out to Victor and with his broad arms, wrapped them around Victor, pinning his arms against his sides. The bear hug tightened and Victor expelled a breath and coughed.
“Okay, oka-a-ay,” he whined, flapping a loose pat against Nathan, as little as he could move under the pressure of Nathan squeezing him.
Nathan released him and then looked to me. “Your turn.”
I was softer.
Victor wrapped his arms around me in return and gently kissed my cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”
We were in Dr. Green’s sedan in moments. I got into the back seat again and gazed out the window at the estate.
Victor told Mr. Buble we’d see him soon, and turned his phone off, taking the earpiece out of his ear. “Guess we don’t need this still going.”
We took our earpieces out and stored them in the glovebox.
Nathan turned the key.
The engine to Dr. Green’s car wouldn’t turn.
Nathan tried again, and again. Nothing.
Victor rolled his head back, closing his eyes. “No. Not now.”
“Battery dead?” Nathan asked, checking the dash. “I’d guess at least.”
“We need to go,” Victor said. “We don’t have time for this.”
Nathan planted a palm on the wheel and turned it. “I can’t make it go, Victor,” he said. “We just need to go get a battery. Or something.”
