The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four

by Daniel Lawlis

  Chapter 26

  While the constitutionality of the Safety in Selegania Act was a fleeting curiosity in the mind of Righty Rick and was not even a blip on the map of Knuckles’ mind, it was of utmost importance to Senator Megders, perhaps better known to the reader by now as Squirrelly Eddie.

  In fact, Senator Megders had stormed out of the senate like a tornado, the angry glare in his eye being as sufficient to clear a pathway as any battering ram, and thundered off to his private law office. Unlike many of the senators, who made the vast majority of their yearly income off of selling their votes, Senator Megders did actual work for a living, specializing in family law and in criminal law cases with constitutional issues.

  He wanted a plaintiff, and he wanted one fast because he was going to be sure that he was representing the first person to sue the government over the constitutionality of SISA—something he had already renamed in his own mind as HISA—the Hypocrisy in Selegania Act. He would have marched over to one of the stores right now that had—at least up until now—carried large quantities of Smokeless Green, insisted on buying some, and then when he was told by the merchant that he could not because of the illegality of Smokeless Green he would sue and seek an injunction against enforcement of the law due to its unconstitutionality.

  The problem, however, was that he qualified as a gentleman under SISA due to the size of his estate. His income also almost made him qualify, though it was a bit shy of the $200,000 cutoff amount for annual income. Thus, if the merchant refused to sell it to him, he technically couldn’t sue for an injunction of the enforcement of the law. He would lack standing. That was because the law would not forbid the merchant from selling it to a gentleman . . . that is, unless the merchant were not a gentleman.

  But he knew that a claim like that would have less chance of being heard. The state would likely move for summary judgment, asserting that, even if the law were unconstitutional as applied to non-gentlemen, Senator Megders was a gentleman, could lawfully purchase Smokeless Green from another gentleman, and thus was not being injured by the law even if it were unconstitutional, and thus he had no standing. He could of course counter that by pointing out that by preventing non-gentlemen from possessing or selling it the only way a gentleman could get Smokeless Green lawfully under SISA was if another gentleman sold it to him, and since few retailers were wealthy enough to qualify as “gentlemen” under the Act, the law had the practical effect of making Smokeless Green unavailable to gentlemen, of whose class he was a member and had thus suffered injury.

  But this was too wobbly a bridge for him to want to traverse while bringing about the destruction of SISA and making a failure out of that arrogant pest—Senator Hutherton. No, he needed a rock-solid plaintiff. Unfortunately, this meant someone criminally charged with violation of SISA. That would be at least a month before it could even theoretically be possible, and even then he wasn’t sure if it would be feasible.

  After all, he had no doubt stores would be clearing their shelves of the substance as soon as they got word of SISA. Thus, there was no way he would have a retailer client on his hands or a client that purchased or attempted to purchase from a retailer. No, he felt certain that from this day forward Smokeless Green was going to become a hot contraband item the likes of which Selegania had never seen. He had seen the change in the city since its mysterious arrival (something he found curiously was rarely the subject of inquiry): taverns selling it had been full almost every single night, something that usually only happened during holidays.

  He felt there was no way Smokeless Green was going to quietly disappear. As he entered his office, sat back in his leather chair, and crossed his arms, the certain, albeit unpleasant, realization came to him that there was nothing he could do but wait until a client walked into his law office having been arrested for use, possession, or sale of Smokeless Green.

  He frowned and said out loud, “This isn’t over yet, Hutherton.”

  Chapter 27

  Knuckles soon found himself glad he had trusted his instincts regarding Sir Charles rather than his instincts regarding the future price of Smokeless Green. He had waited, as Sir Charles had recommended, for the price of an ounce to reach $700, something he expected to happen, if ever, when he was old and gray.

  In fact, he had been regretting the awkward conversation he expected to take place with Sir Charles. Sir Charles, no doubt, would regret having invested $100,000 plus a $10,000 bonus in having Knuckles’ hooligans go around and cause a little mayhem and would be embarrassed upon making such bold—and erroneous predictions—about the future of Smokeless Green.

  Knuckles would seek a tactful way to pass it off as nothing. After all, Sir Charles had done a good job so far keeping police attention elsewhere. Nonetheless, it was a conversation Knuckles wasn’t looking forward to, as he felt sure the old man was going to be embarrassed beyond description.

  Thus, when his underling Chris Culmeyer, better known as Sweet Tooth, came rushing into his office just a couple weeks later, telling him that he better go sell that stuff now because the word on the street was it had already gone slightly over $700 an ounce and that it was going up fast because other gangs were having a hard time getting access to the drug, Knuckles had been delighted.

  He decided to accompany his toughs on this project, as he was not about to risk squandering the potential profits that were waiting to be made. He was expecting Sweet Tooth to perhaps bring him down some dirty alley to make the deals, but to Knuckles’ surprise he found himself being brought into a store that paid protection money, and waiting there were well-dressed businessmen.

  He could tell by the looks on their faces they’d rather be anywhere else. He noticed slight twitches in their nostrils as if they were dogs smelling a tasty treat nearby. He had almost nodded off when Sir Charles had explained some of the fancy rules those crooks in the senate had made in their new law, but he seemed to recall something about rich people could still get high.

  He wondered if these fellows were just a hair or two shy of what those senate rats called “rich,” or if it was just that they didn’t know where else to go. Suddenly, a newly learned instinct kicked in, one that he had internalized from his frequent contact with Sir Charles. You could be classy and still be powerful, and he his instinct told him he better learn how to do that with these men or otherwise he’d curse the day he didn’t.

  “Mr. Mollens, get each of these men a cigar.”

  Mr. Mollens, owner of this small grocery store, looked surprised, but quickly obliged. He had been one of those stubborn fellows that had only seen sense after the sound of rattlesnakes was buzzing away inside his store so loud it could be heard half a block away on a quiet evening.

  The businessmen looked equally surprised, and he noticed they calmed a bit.

  “My name is Mr. Hathers,” he said confidently but decided to omit that he was in charge of the Rattlers, as that somehow seemed incongruent to the impression he was trying to make.

  “My goal is to make sure you are aware first and foremost that in all dealings with myself or any of my associates” (and as he said this he cast a look at his hooligan toadies that let them know they would woefully regret not paying careful attention to his instructions on this particular point) “you will be treated with the utmost respect and consideration. I assume you know the price of Smokeless Green has already inched its way past $700 per ounce, but to show you my commitment to our business relationship, I’m going to sell you these for a flat $700 each, and feel free to have a quick sample first.”

  Each of the five gentlemen inside the store obliged, and their faces revealed great contentment. Within two minutes, Knuckles had sold all sixteen ounces and had $11,200 in his pocket.

  He was practically sprinting back to his house. He had never gone to Sir Charles’ house without an invitation before, but he didn’t care. It was clear Sir Charles wanted him to move this product, and it was hard for him to conceive of Sir Charles being irritated by Knuckles’ letting
him know that was precisely what he had done and that he was ready to start doing it in earnest.

  Chapter 28

  Things were going quite well for Righty. His meetings with Tats had long ago became so frequent that he had realized he was going to have to either resign at Roger’s Grocery Store or get fired. He opted for the former. There was no reason to leave on bad terms with Roger, and so today he had thanked Roger very much for the opportunity that he had given him but that he was going to resign for personal reasons. He offered to stay for another couple weeks if that would help, but Roger told him that wouldn’t be necessary.

  This was a glorious moment for Righty, clouded only by the realization that he was going to have to explain to Janie how it was that he was able to quit his job. He didn’t want her to think that he was going to turn into a loafer—or worse, back into a drunkard. He had an idea lined up already for what he would do next, but first he felt this was a moment he was going to have to savor, or otherwise he might lose the drive he had to carry out what he was starting to see taking shape in his mind as his destiny.

  Without realizing he was doing it, he copied the steps of his son Eddie—of whom he had thought little lately, given his other preoccupations—and began climbing up the tree that led to the large branch Eddie had always called The Pathway, but which had been the last thing Eddie’s nemesis Brian had ever fallen off of.

  Righty felt a nervous chill go down his spine as he realized the only way to get up the big tree was to cross that pathway, and he was aware of the fact some kid in Eddie’s class had fallen off of it and died. But he was craving altitude right now the way many of his customers were craving Smokeless Green, and compared to some of the risks he had taken so far, this one seemed relatively benign.

  He walked across it carefully and then began making his way up the tree it led to. He was surprised just how tall the darn thing was because the thickness of the trees overhead obscured their full height. He found himself climbing and climbing and climbing what surely was several hundred feet until he suddenly saw some sort of structure.

  Then, he saw wizard drawings carved onto the boards, and he realized that little dreamer son of his must have dragged these boards up here and nailed them together. He heard a sound and suddenly looked to his right, and for a second he thought he saw some huge monstrous creature in the air, but by the time he blinked all he saw were a couple feathers disappearing between the small view offered by the many crisscrossing branches in the distance, and he realized he must have gotten a little dizzy from the climb and seen some kind of optical illusion as a result.

  He made himself comfortable on the edge of the little fort Eddie had built, and he felt a sense of extreme peace. The view was breathtaking, and although it didn’t permit much horizontal sight beyond a couple hundred feet due to the thick branches overhead, the view alone of all the massive, spider web-like connecting branches was impressive in its own right. He couldn’t see the ground beneath him, so thick were these branches.

  The breeze was cool and soft against his head. He realized this was one of those moments that he had to take in and really enjoy. He had read about many great men who failed because they worked themselves so hard and never gave themselves time to stop and enjoy the successes they had accomplished. He was determined not to make that mistake because otherwise there would be no point in accomplishing the goals he had in mind.

  He thought back to his deeply frustrating failure as an almost boxing champion, and he saw his sudden expulsion from boxing followed by his miserable years at the lumberyard being almost tantamount to being snatched from a wedding altar and forced into slavery. When he had suddenly gotten the determination to quit drinking, he hadn’t really thought he could do it, but he did. He then didn’t think he could educate himself beyond the basics, and now he was reading some of the most advanced books in various subjects that Janie could find at the library.

  Now, economic success was within his grasp. He knew there were two basic ways this could go. He could take the game as having already been won and get arrogant and sloppy, and within a few months he would be inside a prison somewhere, divorced, and suicidal. Or, he could recognize reality—which was that he had about a thousand and one obstacles ahead of him, any one of which could bring him down—play his cards really carefully, and maybe, just maybe, with a little luck, he would attain the grandiose success he was starting to envision for himself.

  But for now, it was time to just . . . relax. He breathed deeply and noticed just how sweet and fresh the air was up here. More deep breaths. Soon, Righty was collapsed back inside Eddie’s tree house, sleeping like a baby. Fortunately for Righty, Eddie had made it strong.

  About three hours later, Righty came to. He saw that it was almost dark but not quite. Janie would be worried about him. It was time to do what he had to do. He hoped he could keep Janie in the dark forever about the source of his activities, but she was no fool, and he knew it would only be a matter of how long before she knew and whether he could earn enough brownie points in the interim to soften the sting of her discovery.

  Chapter 29

  “Dinner was great tonight, hon’,” Righty said, giving Janie a kiss on the lips.

  “Thanks, Richie,” she responded. Her intelligent blue eyes, whose piercing glare sometimes reminded Righty of the undeceivable nostrils of a bloodhound, detected that there was something on his mind.

  “I quit my job today,” he said calmly.

  Janie’s eyes looked angry, and Righty noticed she bit her lower lip subtly, trying to control her anger.

  “Because I’ve got much bigger plans,” Righty then added, with a sly smile.

  Janie’s anger passed quickly, like a tornado that dissipated before it ever touched the ground.

  “Before I had my last boxing match,” Righty began, “I made a decision that for a while seemed like one of the worst decisions of my life. A stockbroker approached me and convinced me to put everything I had earned into a fourteen-year annuity. I know we went through some tough times where that money would have really come in handy, but I never mentioned it because the early withdrawal penalties were set at half of the accumulated value. Not only would there have been no point in giving up that much money, but also I was embarrassed for having been so foolish as to invest such a high percentage of my savings into an annuity with such stiff withdrawal penalties, so I was embarrassed to tell you.

  “Well, long story short, it matured last week. I sent in the redemption paperwork right away. And right here,” Righty said, putting a large bag on the table, “is just over $500,000 falons.”

  Janie dropped her fork onto the plate. The tension in the air was so thick a tossed stone could have shattered it into a million pieces.

  “Open it,” Righty said calmly. Janie obliged. For good measure, Righty pushed towards her some paperwork—some very expensive paperwork—certifying the redeemed amount and jam-packed with enough small-size font, big words, and dense paragraphs to dissuade all but the most ardent of contract attorneys from venturing beyond line two. Righty, however, had scrutinized it carefully yesterday, his eyes searching for the smallest error. He had been relieved to learn that the contact at the bank would not be in need of a reminder as to how Righty had acquired his nickname.

  Janie gasped. Then, with a tear streaming down her cheek, she looked at him. “Baby, I am so proud of you. If you had told me during your drinking years that you had the discipline to not touch something like this when your throat seemed to never get dry and you hated your job ceaselessly, I wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

  “But over the last two years, I’ve learned that I fully underestimated your potential. I think maybe even you did. I don’t know if Kasani came down from heaven and touched you with a spark of inspiration, but something happened to you. Something out of this world. A couple of years ago you couldn’t even read, and now I’m having a hard time finding books at the local library you haven’t read.

  “Baby,” she sai
d, with a passionate look in her eye, “I love you.”

  Righty leaned over and planted a solid kiss right on her lips.

  “I love you sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that. I’m yours forever. I’ll never let you down.”

  The lovemaking that ensued that night would stand out in both of their minds for years to come.

  Chapter 30

  Righty breathed more than one sigh of relief when he saw that Janie went for the annuity story. But he knew credible stories like that were about as abundant as four-leaf clovers, and he knew it was time to start getting some clean money fast so he could start scrubbing all those dirty falons he was getting.

  He had promptly purchased a small abandoned structure near the center of downtown Ringsetter (a former grocery store) and decided he was going to turn it back into a combination of a hardware and grocery store. After all, besides bare-knuckle brawling, lumber hauling, and his newly acquired skills in growing and selling Smokeless Green, store work was just about the only area he had any practical experience in.

  He was pleased as he passed the store to see that a beautiful sign was already being placed on top of the structure: