“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Taban asked pausing halfway through putting on his belt, as though Eadowen had been referring to his action of dressing.
“Letting it go. Your behavior is inexcusable.”
“She’s fine now.” Taban latched his belt buckle closed with a clang. “I brought you your certificate from the contest, since you were at physical therapy all morning.” Taking a formal shirt from a hanger on the door, he threw his Strap-Shirt on the pile of clothes. Taban looped a red tie around his neck. The knot untied itself when he tried to tighten it. He made another attempt with the same result and let out a frustrated groan.
Eadowen motioned for Taban to come toward him. Pulling Taban closer to him by the loose ends of the tie, Eadowen carefully folded it into a large knot. “Eleanor was in here sobbing for five hours last week because she thought you loved her.” Eadowen flattened Taban’s tie to his chest. “You seem nervous. Where are you headed?”
“Dad summoned me.”
“Oh … can’t you decline?”
“I’ll be fine,” Taban replied. “What’re you up to today?”
“Book Club is having high tea in an hour.”
“Do you need anything that’s not on our regular grocery order?”
“Wattleseed, maca powder, and we’re out of salt again.”
The first year they’d roomed together, Eadowen had managed to coax out every secret Taban kept, usually with food. Fortunately for Taban, Eadowen kept his lips sealed.Taban tried constantly to stay on good terms with him, so that behavior would continue. Taban didn’t mind doing little favors for him, if said benevolence didn’t involve going out of his way. He owed Eadowen for the complication with Marja.
“The only place I can get wattleseed is a half-hour away from here,” Taban whined. “Can it wait?”
“Have a nice drive.” Eadowen opened and closed his hand in a cutesy wave.
***
Taban parked his black Ferrari under Talbot Mir Tower. The tall, white-marble building stretched toward the sky above all the other buildings. The mixed-use tower contained only the offices of the most respected faculty and administrators. He flashed his digital identification to the security guard standing in front of the French doors. The elevator beeped, as it ascended toward the heavens. At the 56th floor Taban exited the elevator and entered a small elevator with golden gated doors. He flipped to his identification screen on his Ogham and swiped the Ogham across a pad. Taban felt his stomach stay on the 56th floor while the rest of his body ascended to the 57th. Given a choice, he would rather have stayed with his gut than see his father. The elevator doors clanked open; Taban paused before entering the penthouse. The hot sun blazing through the windows was intensified by the polished white marble walls and floors. Taban noticed a photograph, the size of his desk, hanging on the wall. It was a picture of him—sort of. The highlights in his hair glowed, his skin didn’t have pores, and his eyes were enhanced to cartoonish proportions. This was the “photograph” all of his father’s associates saw.
His father, Tynan Mir, was waiting for him in an executive chair behind a gigantic desk. The gold stenciling around the desk shimmered. Taban used this as an excuse to shield his eyes so he would not have to look at his father. Instead, he inspected a pearl-toned half-couch under a circular window with small rectangular prisms radiating out from it. The prisms cast scattered rays of multicolored light in a panorama across the fabric of the couch in a way that reminded Taban of the bottom of an outdoor pool.
“Make yourself comfortable,” his father purred.
“I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself. You haven’t come by for a visit in a long time, Taban, so this is a pleasant surprise.”
“You asked me to come.”
“I did, but it was nice of you to show up.”
“If I didn’t, all the teachers and everyone would be harassing me because they all want to make you happy.”
“Of course, I own the school.”
“Everyone does what you say, even if they regret it.”
Tynan Mir rested his head on his folded hands and regarded his son with azure eyes. “Is that so different from you?”
Taban cringed. “I don’t use people intentionally—mostly!”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t do what you did to me.”
“Ah. What things did I ever do to you?”
“When you wanted me to go into commercials … and what you told me to do with that photographer …” Taban touched the tattoo on his arm as his stomach churned.
“You certainly didn’t get the most recent national commercial, because of your appearance or talent. Clearly you’ve warmed up to the idea. This is good because I need you to do a little something.”
“What I did was my choice. I won’t be your dog.” Anything to earn enough money to get away from you. “And as for talents, mine are in chemistry.”
“You’re good at manipulating people and you enjoy it.”
“No … I … don’t.” Taban knew his father could see through the lie, but he told it anyway.
“Your science background will be good for what I want you to do.”
Taban marched to Mr. Mir’s desk and slammed his hands on the cold marble surface. “If you want to screw someone, in all the ways that implies, then do it yourself!” he shouted. Taban saw the reflection of his own blue eyes in the white marble between his fingers. He did not want to remember the number of people who had told him that he had his father’s ‘beautiful’ eyes.
“Unfortunately, our gift fades quickly with age.”
“If this is what you wanted to talk to me about, I’m leaving!”
“Then don’t you want to know why people do what you want? It’s a gift.”
Taban’s curiosity pulled at him like a rip current, but he resisted. His father waved a tablet tauntingly. Biting the bait, Taban snatched the tablet away from his father and retreated to the door while he read the screen.
The screen was open to an article in an e-zine entitled, “The Universe Explained by Psychology.” He read the article tagline.
Recent speculation that there are a set of genes for charisma may be confirmed in the next few years. This could revolutionize the science of attraction.
“They might find a gene for charisma. So what? This is just a pop psychology article, anyway. They find this kind of stuff every other week. Makes great press.”
“Have you noticed that certain members in our family history always got what they wanted?”
“So?” Taban scoffed. I’ve noticed that everyone seems to go into entertainment, finance, or politics, he thought.
“You and I have genes that are very rare in the human race. We don’t know much yet, but we believe these genes help us to produce some kind of subconscious signals making us more appealing.”
Taban punched the fancy door. “Who is ‘we’? And what the hell are you talking about?” Feeling the numbness creep into his fist, Taban stared at his father. He searched his father’s face for any indication of sarcasm, but his laugh lines were smooth. To his surprise, his father’s expression was more serious than he’d ever seen.
“If I were to believe what you say …,” Taban said cautiously.
“We still don’t know much yet. I have more important things to do than pay attention to the science stuff. I leave that to your Aunt Rhiannon in Australia.”
Taban vaguely recalled his relatives from a visit to Australia when he was still a preteen.
“What’s the big deal about scientists researching charisma?” Taban feigned a yawn to sound uninterested.
“If they discover the origins of our genes, then we will be investigated. They may learn to copy or make synthetic versions of them.”
“Do you enjoy the royal we?”
“The other people we could find with our abilities, specifically, your aunt and cousins.”
“So?”
“So!?” His father raised his
voice, but immediately dropped back to his calm purr. “If we are investigated, I may lose all that I’ve gained. Not to mention that a synthetic version of our abilities could be used as a weapon or sold as an aphrodisiac.”
The colored light from the prisms shifted across the marble desk. Taban’s eyes followed the rippling light until he unintentionally looked at his father’s face and saw his sparkling eyes had faded. Taban tried to dig at the vulnerability his father had exposed.
“You’re afraid of losing your hypothetical edge?” Taban leaned against the door as casually as he could manage.
“Do you want everyone to know what you can do?”
“I think you’re crazy. I want no part in this!”
“You will become the intern to the head researcher for the charisma research project.”
“What? No!” Taban answered as he pushed open the door.
“I’ve arranged for funding to be cut on the charisma research program, but I can only delay the work. You must convince the head researcher to do work for your Aunt Rhiannon’s new project. Your aunt has discovered that certain people live a long time. She could make quite a pretty penny if she could figure out why, so she’s funding a research project on the subject.”
Again, Taban’s curiosity pulled him back into the room, but this time his rage anchored him to the open doorway.
“Abigail is waiting downstairs. I’d like you to introduce yourself. She’s a bit fat, but not horrible looking, so you’ll be fine.”
“I won’t do it.”
“If you won’t help me, Telyn will have to do.” His father chased a beam of light from one of the prisms with his finger.
Taban looked at the golden elevator door only a few feet away. Then he thought of his sweet little sister living in Seattle with his estranged mother. When he considered her abilities, he realized everyone adored Telyn—strangers doted on her like she was a princess, even when she threw tantrums. “She’s only twelve.”
“Exactly, she’ll do everything I need. Also, if you don’t help me, things could start going wrong in your life.”
“Telyn has nothing to do with this,” Taban yelled, clenching his fists at his sides.
“Well, if our genes are discovered, her life will definitely not be a pleasant one.”
“Where is this researcher?” Taban growled.
“Waiting for you downstairs,” Mr. Mir repeated. “When I told her my wonderful son was interested in genetics, she was more than happy to meet with you. You’re not that good looking. It’s a pity your mother made it difficult for me to get you more suitably engineered. You know, you have a voice that’d be good for a pop star …”
“I know I’m not that good looking! My roommate has better abs than I do.”
“Yes, what was that crippled kid’s name again?”
“You suggested we should be roommates!” Taban retorted through gritted teeth. “And Eadowen isn’t crippled. Eadowen has a physical disability, but it doesn’t impede hir.”
“Why’s he in a wheelchair anyway?”
“Xie doesn’t tell anyone. And it doesn’t matter!” he snarled.
“He’s attracted to you, isn’t he?” His father’s eyes sparkled with mirth as though he were presenting a child with a new toy. “Does whatever you ask?”
“No!”
“Well, don’t get involved with him. It might mess up his devotion to you.”
“Why not?”
“I have reason to believe that boy might have the longevity genes. Thanks for bringing that hair sample a few months ago. I sent it to your aunt.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Taban tried to hide his glee when he realized he’d given his father fake samples out of spite. His aunt had some random guy’s hair from his gym class instead of his roommate’s.
“Now listen, son,” his father said in a soft voice. “If you don’t do as you’re told, you know what I’ll make sure happens to your sweet little sister. If that’s not enough, your friend will have an incident. And if you, Taban Mir, are heartless enough to let that happen. I will take everything else you hold dear: starting with your face.”
“I’m going to the store.”
“Abigail is on the fourth floor in conference room A. I hear she likes blonds. We’ll have to do something about that.”
Without saying another word, Taban lunged through the door, slammed his Ogham across the scanner, and jumped into the elevator. Meeting with this Abigail person could not be any worse than spending another moment with that hateful man. He switched to the main elevator and watched the numbers decrease as each floor took him farther away from the penthouse office. The more he recalled the way people acted around him, the more real Mr. Mir’s words became. Taban gripped the knot on his tie for comfort.
CHAPTER 8
OF TATTOOS & TABOOS
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Taban reluctantly opened the door to the conference room. At the far end of the glass oval table a seated woman read a thick paperback book. The cold blue of the backrest contrasted with her warm skin tone. The ruffles of her peach silk dress accentuated her impressive hourglass figure.
“Good evening,” Taban said tentatively. He wondered two things: if she was Abigail Crane’s assistant, and if she was available.
“How can I help you?” She closed the book and held it to her chest.
“I’m looking for Abigail Crane. I was told she was waiting in this room.”
“I am Abigail Crane,” she giggled.
“Wait you’re not … I mean I wasn’t expecting someone so … well … dressed?” Remaining near the door, Taban waited for her to glance away so he could observe her better. He couldn’t find a location on her beautiful curves that could make him consider her fat, but he was happy to continue searching. Her blazer obscured some of his view, so he felt behind his back for the thermostat panel, located it, and subtly dragged his finger over the panel changing the room from air conditioned to heated.
“Thanks. I thought you were going to say ‘young.’ I did accelerated programs in school because I knew what I wanted to do, so I’m only twenty-eight.”
“Again, sorry for the mistake, you look very sophisticated. I was being stupid,” he sputtered as he grabbed the chair next to her. “I’m surprised to see someone reading a physical book.”
“I just like the feel of it.”
“Would you recommend it?”
Abigail looked at the floor and Taban thought he saw her cheeks flush. “I don’t think you’d like this genre.”
“I like paper books too,” he bluffed since he’d only touched one or two his entire life. “It feels like I’ve accomplished something as I turn the final page.” He made a large flourish with his hand as he finished the sentence. His motion knocked the book out of Abigail’s hand and it fell to the floor with a thud. Instinctively, he dove for the book, hitting his head against Abigail’s, since she had followed similar impulses. Applying pressure to the dull pain where their foreheads had collided, he remained seated on the floor, next to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, steadying her with his arm around her shoulders as she knelt down holding her head. He reached for her book with his other hand. As she accepted the book, she gave him a radiant smile. He realized how close his face was to hers and jerked away, dropping the book into her lap. “I’m sorry.”
“How’s your head?” She rubbed her forehead as she tried to stand. Jumping to his feet, Taban caught her arm unnecessarily. He let go again and she sank into her chair.
“Do you need some ice?” Taban asked. “I think there’s a medical office on the fourth floor. I’ll go get you some!”
“No,” she protested. “Really, I’m fine.”
Taban noticed a container of filtered water next to the door and pressed the lever to pour some of the water into one of the glass cups he took from the top of the filter. The container made a satisfying gurgle as he released the lever. Taban offered Abigail the glass over the table.
“Thank you.” She t
ook off her blazer to Taban’s delight. “So, your father said you might be interested in becoming my intern?”
“Well, I don’t know that much, but it seems like an interesting subject.”
“Here’s my information.”
“Thanks.” He held out his arm and she brushed her Ogham over his.
“Since the funding for my charisma research has been cut, I’m going to move back to New York City to finish my PhD. Your father said Dartmouth might be a good place for me to propose a similar research topic, if I find a new source of funding.”
“That’s the school Mr. Mir wants me to attend.”
“Don’t you mean your dad?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Taban bobbed his head grudgingly. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’d stay longer, but I really have to get to the store.”
“No worries.” Fanning herself, she walked toward the door checking the thermostat on the way out. “This must be broken.”
“Oh, you’re right. It is.” He stood behind her as though to inspect the temperature settings. He rested a hand between her shoulder blades where her dress didn’t cover her bare skin. “I’ll personally go down and ask them to fix it. It’s terrible that they’d let a lady wait in a heated room on a day like this.”
“I really appreciate it.” Her Ogham chimed a reminder alarm. “I need to catch my flight. Stay in touch.” She lingered by the thermostat, even after Taban removed his hand from her back. With the aid of several alarm reminders, she broke away and headed to the elevator.
“Wait! You forgot your book!” He caught the elevator door and returned it to her. She held the door for him invitingly; he pretended he had a good reason to take the stairs.
***
On his way back to the dorm from the grocery store, Taban’s Ogham informed him that the road he usually took was congested and listed several alternative routes. Ignoring all the suggestions, he drove to the Academy’s recreation center.
The indigo sky tinted to violet, the silver-lined clouds turned golden, and jets created pink trails in the atmosphere. The sunset reflected on the still surface of the vacant outdoor swimming pool. It had closed earlier that day, but thanks to his family connection, Taban used his Ogham to open the gate.
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