Broken Song

by Erik Schubach

  She just consoled me and didn't push as I relayed the hell my life had turned into and the soul rending pain of losing my daughters to her piece of shit brother. She agreed on that count, I shared everything except why I was here. She shared that she hasn't seen someone this messed up since Mia Jacobs.

  She had hundreds of questions about Sandra and Yvette and the homeless people, but kept saying there was a puzzle piece missing. Finally I caved. “I have breast cancer sis,” I whispered into the universe.

  She was so gentle and understanding and had just a couple questions about it. Her solution was simple and straight forward as she said, “Get that nasty shit cut out of your body, my sistah from another motha.”

  I snorted. “Don't ever say that again.”

  She nodded with a wicked grin. “Yeah, it sounded better in my head.” Then she tilted her head. “You are aren't you? Getting that shit cut out?”

  I shrugged and said in a little voice, “My children have already been taken from me... now the universe wants my womanhood too?”

  She stared at me for a long time then shook her head in anger and resignation. “Bullshit... but this still doesn't explain why you are in Seattle. Did you move back here without telling me?”

  I didn't say anything, I didn't want her to even guess, so I changed the subject. “So that led me to you. I don't know what to do.”

  She thought for a minute then said in her old sarcastic tone that had been missing through the whole discussion, “Well you dweeb, it sounds like you have something unresolved with this Sandra chick. Your one flaw is that you care too much and will do anything for the people you care about. Well fine, it's not a flaw but it is annoying. It sounds like you owe her something for a reason you won't tell me. Square up with her and you can move forward or it will drive you nucking futs.”

  I shrugged. “I think I passed that stage, but I think you are right and I know what I have to do. I owe it to that wondrous blonde.”

  She let me leave it at that then she brought me out to lunch so we could just discuss the old days. I think she knew what she was doing because she had my spirits raised by the end of lunch. We walked out of the restaurant and I hugged her. “I love you sis. There is something I need to do.”

  She nodded and whistled for a cab. “OK. I understand. I love you too. But if anyone asks, I'll deny it.” I grinned as she opened the cab door for me.

  I kissed her cheek and smiled as I got in. “Of course. Bye Missy.” I shut the door and instructed the cabbie to head to SeaTac Airport.

  Chapter 15 – Thirteen Days

  I didn't think it would be that hard to track down a family that was obviously richer than God in Washington DC. But it seems that describes a hell of a lot of people there. I was a little shocked when I found out that my little Sandra was the heir to the Callahan Shipping empire.

  Alistair Callahan's net worth rivaled that of Bill Gates at just over seventy billion dollars. Callahan Shipping had subsidiary companies around the globe and controlled over ten percent of the entire global shipping industry. If you get something from overseas, odds are good that Callahan Shipping had their hands on your shipment at one point or another on its way to its recipient.

  My heart swelled with pride for her that she chose to walk away from that to take care of “her people”. She didn't let any of the upper crust snobbery taint her. The only thing she wanted more in life than to help those in need was to make her father proud and show him she could make it on her own.

  I'd make sure she got his recognition before I left this world, or die trying, then my slate would be clean and I could just fade away.

  It wasn't as easy as it would seem. It took me two days just to work my way through the juggernaut that is Callahan Shipping to finally get in touch with Alistair's personal assistant, Tip. Who the heck is named Tip? My international fame is the only way I made it through the labyrinth to that point. I hate trading on my name, especially now that it isn't associated with Leather and Heels anymore.

  All that work just to find out he was in Germany, striking a deal with an international consortium for exclusive shipping rights, but he would be home in ten days. He had promised his family he would be back before Thanksgiving. I got Tip to set up a short meeting for the day he arrived back in DC, he could only give me fifteen minutes.

  I spent the next ten days dwelling on every possible scenario. Every way I could imagine me screwing things up. I researched everything I could about her family and their business. I visited a salon and had them strip my hair and dye it my natural color to the best of my recollection and give my now chestnut brown locks some golden highlights. Then had them cut it in a more professional style.

  I bought a professional business suit, too bad I didn't have any of the clothing Sandra had got me except for what was on my back when I left Seattle. I wouldn't give them any reason to turn me away at the door. I almost didn't recognize the woman in the mirror. That was Penelope Marie Franklin peeking back at me. I smiled. I remember her. The wide eyed girl that was in awe of the world. She had discovered music and with some friends, created a band who's music would “change the world”. I snorted at the naivety of that young girl all those years ago.

  I looked at the time. Just over an hour until the meeting. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew Sandra idolized her father, I also knew he loved her, but it wasn't his love she wanted... it was his respect. Whether he knew it or not, he was the chink in her armor, the one thing that could bring my girl down. Shit... my girl? If only.

  I grabbed my purse and made my way out of the hotel and to the curb, and the doorman opened the taxi door for me. I fought down the panic on the ride over to the corporate headquarters of Callahan Shipping. What the hell was I doing?

  I made my way into the lobby of the huge modern five story office building. I walked up to the security desk and they verified I had an appointment with Mr. Callahan then gave me a visitor’s pass and a young intern, Wendell his security badge said, materialized out of the ether to lead me to the office of the president of the company.

  On the top floor I was handed off to Lara. She had the no nonsense, stern demeanor of a Sunday school teacher. She led me through the impressive open office area that had what appeared to be a sea of administrative assistants with large glass walled offices ringing the exterior. I was led into one. A conference room and she hit a control on the wall and the glass went opaque. “Someone will be with you in a moment Ms. Franklin,” she said in what could only have been a German accent. Then she was gone in an instant.

  Not more than five minutes later a handsome red headed man entered the room. He was fit and impeccably groomed and maybe an inch or two shorter than me. His suit looked like it cost more than my first car. His piercing green eyes seemed to be studying me. He made some sort of decision then stepped up to me and offered his hand. “Ms. Franklin, I'm Tip Dunn. Mr. Callahan's personal assistant. What can I tell him this meeting is about?”

  This was pissing me off, he was screening me! “Tip, what's going on? Don't jerk me around here. Do I have an appointment with Mr. Callahan or not?”

  He seemed unmoved and said, “It depends on if 'I' decide you do or not.”

  I started walking past him to leave the room. “Fine, you explain to Alistair why you refused to let me talk to him about his daughter. I have better things to do than play your dumb ass superiority games.”

  That had the desired effect when he said in an unsure voice that was the counterpoint to the snobbish regal tone he was using earlier, “Miss Callahan?”

  I stopped half way out the door and turned toward him. “Yes.” Then I walked out.

  He was right on my tail calling out, “Ms. Franklin?”

  I smirked to myself then put a perturbed look on my face. I spun around to face him. “What Tip? Don't waste my time.”

  He motioned back to the conference room and said with a combination of aggravation and resignation, “Mr. Callahan will be with you shortly.” Afte
r I passed him, I grinned to myself. Asswipe! I glanced at the door as he disappeared down the hall.

  I looked around the spacious room with the huge glass table at its center surrounded by satin nickle frame chairs with maroon cushions. I poured some water from a carafe at a sideboard and walked to the window and looked out over DC.

  Then a huge man, possibly six foot four or five with silver hair, chiseled looks and an imposing physique walked into the room. His silver grey eyes that looked a hell of a lot like Sandra's, held a look of severe intelligence as he assessed me as he approached.

  I was a little shocked to see the same calculating spark in them as Sandra had, he was no doubt trying to figure out what my angle may be. My eyes flicked to the ragged scar above his left eye that flowed down onto his cheek giving a streak of color on his pale complexion. There was no doubt he was Sandra's father, but I found it a bizarre contrast that such a huge mountain of a man could have such a tiny, graceful daughter.

  I couldn't help but approve of the fact that he didn't have plastic surgery to remove that blemish on his ruggedly handsome features, he definitely had the means. I took in the fitted suit that made Tip's look like it was off the rack, as Alistair Callahan offered a hand to me.

  “Ms. Franklin,” his voice rumbled deep with a strong bass. His huge paw simply dwarfed mine. Now I'm not a tiny woman like Sandra, but he made my hand look like that of a child.

  I nodded to him. “Mr. Callahan.” I acknowledged him and then said, “Please call me Penny.”

  He nodded and motioned toward the chairs and spoke cautiously, “Very well, Penny. Then feel free to call me Alistair.” He waited for me to sit then sat in the chair beside me without turning his calculating gaze away. “Tip tells me this meeting has something to do with my daughter?” His voice held a dangerous tone, and I had no doubt this man loved his daughter, which struck me as counter intuitive and in contrast to the reason I was here.

  I took a breath. What was I going to say? I had no clue. Almost two weeks waiting for this meeting and all I knew is that I owed this to San. I looked at the man. “Well Alistair, I have had the pleasure to get to know your daughter. She is one of the most spectacularly amazing people I have ever met.”

  He was shifting in his seat and squinting his eyes. I continued. “But she has this shadow hanging over her, for all the good things she is accomplishing, do you know the single most important thing in her life? The one thing she wants and the one thing doesn't have?” I raised an eyebrow in question.

  He looked at me suspiciously. “Please Penny, regale me with what my princess needs.”

  I squinted and looked at him accusingly. “The thing that drives her is that she needs to make you proud of her. She has such pride in what she does, yet she looks to you and you are not there.”

  His voice rose though I could see him keeping a no doubt volatile temper in check. “How dare you. I love my daughter more than anything. One day she will come to her senses and come home to run the family business. I'll surround her with advisers to do the heavy lifting for her.”

  I looked at him in shock. “What? You don't even know what she is doing and how many people depend on her.”

  He snapped, “Bullshit. I know she is playing around with her animals and homeless people. She's dumping money into it all the time, month after month. When she gets tired of it, she'll come back home where she belongs. She's... special... Penny, I'm sure you've seen.”

  It was my turn to snap. “Playing around!? My God! You are even more out of touch than I thought! Do you have any clue how important her work is?”

  He shook his head incredulously. “Her work? She's just bleeding money to people who should be getting jobs! My money! Her money!”

  I took a deep breath to calm down. “I know you love your daughter, Alistair. But why don't you support her?”

  He snorted. “I do support her, where the hell do you think all the money comes from?”

  I shook my head. “Money is not the same thing, and she doesn't use a penny of that money on herself. She works two jobs to support herself. She wants you to see that she can take care of herself.”

  Before he could say anything. I rushed on and said, “If you support her, then why, in all the years that she has lived in Seattle have you not visited her? To see what she is really doing?”

  His voice was raising again. “I see her every Christmas when she comes home to visit, and on my birthday every year.”

  I shrugged. “That's her making the effort not you. You have never seen her in Seattle and one of your own company's largest shipping hubs is in the Seattle area! Everything she does, she does for you, but you just see it as 'playing around'. Come see her. See what she is doing. See all the people she is helping! And her home isn't DC anymore. Her home is in Seattle and you've never visited once to even acknowledge that.”

  He opened his mouth then closed it again, gathering his wits and calming himself. “What's your angle here Penny. Why are you getting involved?”

  I shrugged. “I owe her. She did something spectacularly selfless to help me see some things in my life more clearly. And this is the one thing I can do for her, the one thing she needs. She has your love, she only wants your respect.”

  He sat silently for a long time. Then hit the intercom. “Tip.”

  A couple seconds later Tip stepped inside the conference room and stood by the door looking expectantly at Mr. Callahan. Was I being ushered out?

  Then Alistair looked at me then to Tip. “Cancel all my meetings for the next two days. I need the company jet tomorrow, have them file a flight plan to Seattle. Two passengers, myself and Ms. Franklin, you don't need to be there Tip. Set me up in the Seattle Grand, presidential suite. I'll speak to the missus about the trip.” Tip's fingers were flying across his iPad. He paused and when there was nothing else, he ducked out of the room.

  I watched the door close and said under my breath, “What a tool.”

  Then Alistair surprised me with a deep rumbling laugh, he had heard though I hadn't expected him to. “That he is. But a useful tool.”

  He stood, indicating our discussion was over. I stood too and he offered his hand again. I took it and he said, “Well Penny. You certainly are a scrappy one. That is kind of refreshing as everyone around here is offering tissues if I sneeze. I'll go see my little girl with you, but I still think you are playing an angle. Just write it up to my suspicions after so many people have taken advantage of my daughter for her money.”

  He walked me to the conference room door and ended the meeting as he said, “Tip will contact you with the flight information, good day Penny.”

  I nodded to him. “Good day to you too Alistair. This is a good thing you are doing.”

  Then the next day, we were on a private jet, landing at a small airfield up in Issaquah.

  Chapter 16 – Sandra Callahan

  Now here he was. Not listening to her and wanting to bring her back to DC. Oh hell no, I wasn't going to let him ruin everything! I was supposed to fix this... for her!

  I looked down at Sandra, she looked so small. Then I glared at Mr. Callahan who was now pacing through the apartment and I stood up and tried to contain my rage, I succeeded for the most part but there was so much that it bled through as I snapped, “You have no clue what your daughter is capable of! Do you have any clue what she does for the people in this city!?”

  He stopped pacing at her desk and wheeled around at me. “She's my daughter! I know exactly what she is capable of! Don't you dare lecture me on her capabilities!”

  Sandra's eyes were wide with... fear? As she jumped up from the couch and was trying to get me to stop. I just continued speaking with anger in my voice, “There are hundreds of people that depend on her in the homeless community of Seattle. Shelters, missions and community centers depend on her organizational skills and her knack for fitting the right person to the right job. Not to mention the children she helps to forget about their situation and brings smiles to their faces, eve
ry time she brings her animals to the wards where those precious children lie dying, almost an afterthought to society like the men and women fending for themselves on the streets! She has dreams of a foundation where she can help even more people and show them that they matter, that every person matters.”

  He scoffed. Sandra had given up trying to get me to sit and just held me with her head on my chest as she cried. Alistair pointed at the desk at her scratch paper on the desk. “A foundation!? That is beyond her capabilities. I love my daughter to death, but she can't even do simple math! She needs to come back home and take over the family business where I can surround her with advisers to do the heavy work!”

  Sandra let go of me with her hand over her mouth and started to escape toward her bedroom. I grabbed her hand and didn't let her leave, she turned back with teary eyes locking on mine. I gave her a small smile then turned to her father, still holding my girl's hand. “You don't even know your own daughter, all she wants is your acceptance and respect. You think it is beyond her capabilities? You don't have a clue the type of genius Sandra is! All part of why I love her.”

  I looked down into Sandra's eyes. “San, how many homeless people are in Seattle?”

  She said, “Eight thousand eight hundred and thirty that we know of.”

  I grinned. “How many do you know personally?”

  She tilted her head for a second. “One thousand two hundred and three.”

  I grinned. “Of those, how many of their names do you know?”

  She smiled through her tears. “All of them.”

  I nodded and asked, “And how many of them do you know their occupations before they wound up on the street?”

  She spoke firmer now. “All of them.”

  I grinned in pride at her then said, “And how many of their birthdays do you know? And how many do you try to do something for them on that day to let them know they are not forgotten?”