by Dan Alatorre
My stomach sank.
Mills sighed and flipped through a folder. “You’re to be deported, Peeky, and since you seem to have committed felonies while in the United States, your deportation is expedited.” He looked up at me. “These are Federal rules, Peeky, set in motion by Mr. Findlay over there who apparently was working on sending you home to India after he had you kidnapped by the campus police.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands. You are to meet me here, tomorrow morning at eight A.M., to be escorted to customs for immediate processing.” Mr. Mills sighed. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, son. That’s the law.”
“Why-” Melissa’s voice broke as she tried to speak. She eyed her father. “Why does it have to be so harsh?”
“Well, aside from the other reasons I mentioned, it’s an election year. Our politicians in Washington aren’t too keen on people committing felonies while they’re here as our guests.” He hooked a thumb at me. “On top of that, he’s a young man with no family here. That makes him a flight risk. He has no compelling hardship argument since he hasn’t got a wife or child…”
“But he does!” Melissa jumped from her seat. “He has a wife and a child.”
Mr. Mills shook his head. “No, he doesn’t. I have his visa papers from the school right here.” He read from the folder. “Tomàs Pequant, a single man from India…”
“It’s a mistake.” She looked at me. “Tomàs! Tell him! Tell him about Meghu and Rasha.”
My stomach tightened into a knot as I looked at Mr. Mills. “Sir, can we speak about this in private?”
“No. Everybody else took their spanking in public. So can you.”
“Wait a minute.” Findlay’s jaw dropped. “You—you didn’t tell them.” He threw his head back and laughed. “You little Middle Eastern snake. You are amazing.”
Barry took a step toward Findlay. “Tell us what?”
Findlay kept his gaze on me. “Even now, you’re still working on a way to wiggle out and keep your scam alive.” He shook his head. “It’s incredible.”
Melissa glared at Findlay. “What are you talking about?” She turned to her father. “Peeky has a family.”
“No he doesn’t.” Findlay chuckled. “He made it all up.”
“What?’ Melissa turned and looked at me. I swallowed, feeling the heat burning my cheeks.
Findlay grinned, his eyes alight. “It was all in Peeky’s computer when I hacked into it. How he played each of you, collecting eager beavers to traipse off to a mine to find an old hunk of junk his great-grandfather had lost.” He laughed. “He had a file about your dead mother, Melissa. Another one on the brainiac paleontology student, one for all of you. But to get in with you rock dusters, he created a whole fake back story to sucker you in and win you over. He created a wife, a kid—a deceased mother—all designed to gain your trust and help you go find his machine.”
“This is bullshit.” Barry walked up to the table. “Tell him, Peeky.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I just sat there, squirming.
“Bullshit? Really?” Findlay laughed again. “Tell me this, big brained Barry. Whose idea was it to go digging for fossils in the mines? Yours? That’s what you told me. But Peeky had a file on his computer saying he’d mentioned it to you as a reason he couldn’t move in with you and that idiot Riff—he said he had to save his money to work the mines over the summer. You got the idea from him.”
“Well, maybe I did. So what?”
“So nothing. Just another lie in a whole web of them. A better story to sucker you all in. The poor immigrant gains favor with the group, working you one after another. Playing you like fools so he could acquire the time machine for himself.”
There was silence. Everyone stared at me.
“Did he ever tell you what his goal was?” Findlay looked at Melissa. “You’ll love this. Money. That’s it, plain and simple. You know, you might think I’m a shitty guy, but I never created anything as elaborate as that. And for all my failings, I never in my wildest dreams lied to you the way he did.” He pointed across the table. “That’s your friend. Tell them, Peeky. Tell them about how we worked out a deal to split the money. While you dummies were dancing around on the sun Dome, he was figuring out a way to sneak the machine out from under you and give it back to me.”
Findlay sat back, folding his hands across his belly and smiling. “He lied about everything from day one. Every word out of his mouth was a lie. Everything he ever told you.”
“Peeky, is this true?” Melissa eyed me with pain and disbelief in her eyes. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think of any words at all. I just wanted to sink into the chair and disappear.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Peeky.” Hands in her lap, her eyes brimmed with tears. “I… I understand. You thought you had to say those things.” Melissa sniffled, staring at the floor. “I don’t care about that. What about when you said you’d like to use the time machine to let your little girl meet her deceased grandmother? Your mother. When we talked at Barry’s apartment.”
She viewed me with pain in her eyes. I wanted to say something, anything to make the hurt stop. It seemed as though it would crush her beating heart.
Still, I could find no adequate explanation that would release me from the terrible grip of the truth.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
She slumped, burying her face in her hands.
Mr. Mills reached over and patted his daughter’s back. “Tomàs, I think you’ve done enough. Tomorrow. 8 A.M., here. Do I need to assign a security guard to you or can I trust you to show up?”
I sighed. “I will be here.”
“With your bags packed. I think the sooner you get out of here, the better.” He looked at Barry. “Maybe for your own safety at this point.”
“This whole thing stinks,” Findlay sneered, pointing at Mr. Mills. “You’re just a corrupt lawyer angling to help your buddy at the power company cover everything up. You just needed a few scapegoats like me and Peeky to hang out to dry. You’re just as bad as any of the rest of us. And I’m going to ruin you.”
“How’s that, exactly? You just admitted to computer fraud in front of a bunch of witnesses. I’m not sure now is the time to start trying to throw your weight around.”
Findlay grinned. “Your scheme is so generous. All the problems go away, except we’re still expelled and the rest of you make a bunch of money. I don’t think the voting public wants to elect a corrupt mayor.”
Mills scratched his head. “Findlay, were you dropped on your head as a baby? Let me tell you something about people. They know the truth when they hear it. They’ll always respect a man who stands up for other people, especially people who need help. That’s what I’ve done here today, even for you. I’m sorry you don’t see it that way.”
“It’s not about how I see it; it’s about what the voting public thinks.” He pointed at Janice. “This lady is a reporter with The Tampa Tribute and she has all the details. She knows all about what’s really going on.”
“I know. She told me.”
“What?” Findlay’s jaw dropped. “When?”
“Last night, after she hung up with you.” Mills smiled. “She was at my place at the time.”
Findlay turned to Janice. “You Judas! You’re corrupt, too. Hiding the story.”
She shook her head. “Findlay, I said the Tribute was interested in the story, and they are. I can’t predict which way an editor wants to portray things. I never said they’d tell the story your way.”
“Well, I can still do it.” Findlay pointed at Mr. Mills. “You have a fundraiser in a few hours. I was planning on watching you squirm in front of whoever showed up to throw tomatoes at the corrupt politician. Instead, I can march right out these doors and announce it to the world.” He pounded the table. “When you get to your big fundraiser downtown on the plaza this afternoon, I’ll be there with a bullhorn. I’ll tell what happened. You’ll never be mayor, buddy, that’
s a guarantee.”
“Findlay, for a bright guy, you’re pretty damned stupid,” Mr. Mills said. “Didn’t your mother and father love you as a child?
Janice glanced at Findlay. “You don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?”
“When I told Michael what you told me, I knew what he would do.”
“Huh?” Findlay blinked. “What’s that?”
“He insisted we tell the public immediately.” Janice gazed at Mr. Mills. “He’s an honest man, and the voters love him for it. He insisted that we run the whole story in The Tribute’s online coverage. It’s been up for hours, the lead story on the news all morning . . . how he wanted to avoid the embarrassment for you and the other students, help the school, and everything else. He’s been above board this entire time.”
Findlay’s face sank and his shoulders slumped. “So everybody knows all this?”
“Pretty much.” Mr. Mills shrugged. “Now we just need to see how the voters take it. I’m guessing we’ll know after the fundraiser downtown.”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Don’t take it personally, Findlay.” Mr. Mills glanced around the table. “Barry, you owe the very kind and understanding manager at Radio Shack thirty dollars. Turns out he’s a supporter of mine, so he agreed this was all more or less a rowdy college stunt.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Ashby, your company is going to have to pay for the damage to the apartment building and the Sun Dome.”
“What!”
“Well, your board of directors can’t find out how stupid their CEO has been, running around potentially encouraging people to commit arson. You’ll lose your job, Ash.” He looked out at the shocked faces around the table. “That goes for the rest of you, too. Go home, get some rest, and come back after you’ve signed these releases my staff has prepared. It’s the best deal you’re going to get, trust me. Now scoot.”
“Not so fast, counselor.” It was one of the university lawyers. “I’m not so sure we should sign anything until we see how this sits with the public.”
Mr. Mills eyed them, his face turning red and a vein throbbing on his forehead. He faced Barry and spoke in measured tones. “You're originally from Miami, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not originally from Florida. Ohio was my home. I had to move here to paradise.” Mr. Mills stood up, walking behind his chair. “But I met an old boy down in your neck of the woods by the name of Mark Rothman. He’s an attorney and we did some business, and then we went fishing on his air boat. Out in the swamps. Saw a fifteen-foot alligator.”
“Impressive.”
“Indeed. Now, do you know how a fifteen-foot alligator gets to be a fifteen-foot alligator?”
Barry shrugged. “No, sir.”
“By not letting the world know it’s a fifteen-foot alligator.” He patted the back of the leather chair. “I guess sometimes it’s best to not draw attention yourself. On the other hand, do you know how an eighteen-foot alligator gets to be an eighteen-foot alligator?”
“How’s that?”
“By killing every God damned fifteen-foot alligator that crosses its path.” He narrowed his eyes and shot a look at the university lawyer. “Did you honestly think that I was going to let your professor order your campus police officers to shoot at my daughter—and just let it go?” There was fire in Mr. Mills eyes. The room was completely still.
“Or you, Findlay, you micro brain little turd, for what you took from her computer? That I’d let you get away with that?”
Findlay shrunk back into his chair. The verbal assault by Mr. Mills seemed to awaken him to a new reality.
Mills turned to the speakerphones. “Ashby, our friend at the power plant. You stirred up this hornet’s nest by poking the professor over here—who until then was basically a pretty law abiding buffoon whose only bad habit was illegally selling artifacts out the back door.”
“How dare you-”
Mills leaned on the table. “You all need to stop thinking about whether or not you can win a lawsuit or keep yourself out of jail, and start thinking about whether I'm damn fool crazy enough to risk everything I have to protect my daughter!” He slammed his fist into the table. “Because about now you should be realizing that I sure as shit am crazy enough. Did you think I called this meeting to save all of your asses? That’s just a happy byproduct for you, but if you give me a reason to change my mind, I will rip each of your fucking heads off. Am I making myself clear?”
Standing straight, Mills gritted his teeth. “By God, I ought to get my shotgun out of my office and shoot every damned one of you right now. And if I had that stupid time machine, I’d be hard pressed not to go throw it into a swamp. That way, nobody’d have it. It’s turned you all into a bunch of lunatics.”
He pointed at the door. “Now you take these releases and you show them to your lawyers or to your mama or whoever the hell you want to show them to, but my patience has just about run out and so has my generosity about not taking up my daughter’s numerous cases and suing every fucking one of you into bankruptcy. And you know I’ll do it. I’ll bury you in goddamned legal motions and complaints. I’ve taken on bigger fish than any one of you and flat fucking annihilated them.” He stormed to the doors and yanked them open. “Now all of you get out of here. Get your minds right, and get back here by nine o’clock Monday morning with a signed release, or at ten o’clock the legal filings start.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Dad?”
Mr. Mills took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned to his daughter. “Yes, sweetie?”
“We don’t have any way to get back to campus.”
He sighed. “Okay, have Terry call some cabs for you and the fellas. But Melissa, I’d appreciate it if you’d go to the house for now.”
“Why?”
“I just think it’s best, given the circumstances.”
I wished I could wait somewhere else, anywhere else. Anyplace but outside, with the friends whose trust in me I had just destroyed. But this was not the time. I slinked out of the room and headed to the front door. Barry and Melissa followed.
Only a shell shocked Findlay stayed behind.
As I walked across the beautiful wood floors and past the ornate couch, I felt the eyes of the world upon me, looking down on me, making me want to crawl into a hole. Worse than that, I felt the glare of my friends burning a hole into my back.
* * * * *
“Am I really going to jail?”
Mr. Mills nodded. “This computer hacking is serious stuff.”
Findlay eyed the floor.
“It felt like fun and games until now, huh?” Mr. Mills scratched his chin. “Yeah, that’s the problem. Politicians tend to think guys like you will grow up to hack places like Target and steal everybody’s credit card information. They’re getting tough.”
Findlay swallowed. “What should I do?”
“You can start by destroying the pictures. And apologizing.”
Findlay glanced up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mills.”
Mills buried his face in his hands. “Not to me, you idiot.”
* * * * *
I stood on the sidewalk, searching for a cab. Any cab. A local TV news van was parked across the street. That was probably Findlay’s idea, to have a news crew waiting to hear him brag about taking down mayoral hopeful Michael Mills—before he went into the meeting and got his head taken off.
He wasn’t the only one.
Barry called to me. “Melissa says the cabs will be here in a minute. They have a place around the corner and they always rush for Mr. Mills.”
Melissa stood just beyond him with her back to me.
After a moment, he walked toward me, limping on the sore leg. “The receptionist called one for each of us, so you can go wherever you need to go.”
I looked at Barry. “I’ll be going to my little dorm room and doing some packing.”
/> He nodded. “Peeky…” He shifted his weight, rubbing his neck. “You know you didn’t need to do that stuff, not any of it. You didn’t have to lie to us. We always liked you and trusted you.”
“Because of who I was or what I could do for you?”
He shook his head. “Tomàs, you were my friend. That was enough.”
* * * * *
The first cab appeared in the distance. Barry walked to the curb and waved at it. He turned to Melissa. “Why don’t you take this one?”
She joined him, watching as the vehicle approached. “Thanks.”
“Are you going to your dad’s house?”
“Looks like it. You?”
He smiled, patting his leg. “I need to get back to the hospital. I’ve abused this leg and this cast. It’s killing me. They may have to amputate.”
As the cab rolled to a stop, he leaned over and opened the door. She stared at the seat for a second before climbing in. Then she looked up at Barry. “I—I’ll catch up with you. After the campaign rally or something.”
“Is your dad going to let you out of his sight again so soon?”
Melissa pushed a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “He will. He believes in second chances and not carrying a grudge. It’s one of his best qualities.” She forced a smile. “It’s pretty irritating sometimes.”
“No grudges? Could have fooled me. He seemed pretty hot up there.”
“Courtroom theatrics.” She waved her hand. “Most people aren’t used to it. I grew up with it. Sometimes he’d practice with me, like an actor going over his lines.”
“Theatrics? Well, if you say so.” He shifted his weight and looked down the street. “Do you think those guys will sign the releases?”
“Oh, they’ll sign them.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She drew a slow breath. “Because dad's got a reputation for not bluffing and everybody knows it. That’s what he meant by talk to your mommas. He was saying if they ask around, they’ll see he’s serious.”
