Fated Desire

by Noah Harris

  And now I’m back here. So is Felix Armistead, like some mythical beast walking down the middle of main street. It’s just bizarre.

  “Sit, I said,” he hisses, tapping the sheet again, and I sit. Hopefully with just enough delay that he knows nothing is going to happen. Just in case that’s where this is headed.

  But he takes my hand, and his smile when he looks in my eyes is loving. Not hungry.

  “Dominic. Happy birthday.”

  I smile, and he bats his eyelashes with a coy smile for me to kiss his cheek.

  “Now. I am going to go to sleep. My body doesn’t know what day it is. I think it’s awfully stupid for you to sleep on the couch, so I’m going to welcome you to sleep here, in your own bed. But if Christian will be upset by that, I don’t want you in here. I just hate to see you put out and I will absolutely not be on the couch.”

  “Of course not!” I smile, but he seems perturbed.

  “I’ve slept on plenty of couches, Tarrant. I’m not a fucking princess. I just don’t want those kids to wake up and find a strange man on their couch. They’ve been through enough.”

  That’s valid, and a good deal more considerate than I was expecting. Maybe we’re all growing up after all.

  In a flash Felix is down to his underwear, pulling on a sheer t-shirt from his bag as expensively thin and flattering as anything else he might pull out of there. He rolls over once, against the wall and on his back, leaving plenty of room for me.

  I’ve had a horrible day and was already not looking forward to sleeping alone. I thought about getting in bed next to Bodhi as I was putting him down, and probably would have eventually fallen in with him if I hadn’t heard Felix’s knock at the door.

  Either way, I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

  “Goodnight, old bean,” Felix Armistead whispers, and I think I mumble something approximating a response.

  I wake up alone. There’s a fresh, pricey cologne smell that tells me Felix is already up and around, which makes me obscurely nervous.

  He could be out there telling Christian anything. Asking him anything.

  I’m still sleepy, my thinking a little fuzzy, and for a moment I'm legitimately scared that he’ll somehow figure out Christian and I kissed last night, before everything went to hell.

  I don’t know why that’s such a scary thought, except he’d tease me mercilessly about it if he thought it would get a rise out of me. Or, if he’s not reading the room correctly, say something to Christian and wreck whatever is growing between us.

  Of course none of these worries is founded anywhere near reality, and when I make my way quietly out into the living room he’s reading the news on his phone and sipping a cup of coffee. He raises his eyebrows at me happily but doesn’t speak. Soon enough I’m beside him on the couch with my own cup, still trying to wake up all the way.

  When Felix finishes whatever he’s reading, he sighs and picks up the blank notebook beside him, clicking a pen and making some quick notes before finally taking a deep breath and turning to me, all business concluded.

  “Your Christian is already gone. He’s taking the kids. How many are there? I think I counted eleven. That’s a lot of kids.”

  “Four,” I smile, and he chuckles.

  “That’s still a lot of kids!”

  True enough. I sip my coffee, trying to imagine how he and the little ones would react to each other. It’s hard to conceive the fact that they could occupy the same space and time.

  “He said to tell you he’s ‘stopping by SFCC’ for a ‘course catalog’. The way he said it made me think you’d be tremendously happy to hear that, whatever it means.”

  He’s right, it does. That’s the best birthday present I can think of.

  If he’s seriously considering college, that means things are stable enough here he can think about the future again. I must have passed some test.

  Felix Armistead wiggles his eyebrows at me excitedly.

  “Oh my goodness, Tarrant. I know that look. I haven’t seen it in a million years, of course. Not since Los Angeles took your soul, broke your heart and made you a sociopath. But before that, I used to see it a lot. You’re infatuated. You have an infatuation.”

  Well, there’s no sense in denying it.

  “You know our history. I mean, God knows we stayed up late talking about this guy enough over the years.”

  Felix Armistead rolls his eyes in mock irritation, then nods appreciatively.

  “You never said he was hot as hell. I’m a little miffed.”

  For some reason, it makes me proud.

  “I always thought he was! But he was never buff or anything. That’s new.”

  Felix nods, with duck lips of approval.

  “I guess we all change. Or most of us, at least. You’re still the same callow boy who showed up on the doorstep at the academy, looking miserable and clueless.”

  “And you’re still the meanest son of a bitch in the one percent.”

  He giggles, agreeing, and after a silent moment throws himself on me again. He’s not usually this clingy, is everything okay with him? I can’t imagine what will happen if it turns out we’re both on the run.

  “God, I’m happy to see you. I hope it’s okay I came.”

  He really seems to be. He must think there’s something real here, too.

  “It’s great! Happy birthday to me. Does anybody else know where I am?”

  Felix shakes his head, annoyed.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t tell a soul. But I don’t think you’re going to stay hidden for much longer. Somebody’s going public soon. Only a matter of time.”

  I know this, of course, but he’d only say it if there was reason to. Tick-tock.

  Felix Armistead and I never worked at the same firm, although we may as well have. I always felt a little conceited that my company was somehow less soulless and corporate than his, but it turned out there was no difference. In the end my bosses did shady things and got caught, his got away with it.

  Felix Armistead’s never had to work a day in his life, and there have been years where he admits he had no taxable income to declare. True wealth, in the form of a trust fund from parents he never sees. Although he likes them more than I do mine.

  Even when we were teenagers, he was fond of his parents in the funniest, most remote way. Like a neighbor’s pets that you don’t mind feeding while they’re on vacation. They’re lovely to visit and spend the day with but you’d never think of having them in your home.

  “I can’t stand L.A. without you. Desperation with nobody around to laugh at it with just becomes sad. I couldn’t tell the difference between myself and everybody else. I’ve been spending most of my time in Germany, frankly. Just to get away from that blank landscape.”

  It’s hard to imagine him missing anybody, even me. But given that he’s the only person I know who still admits to being my friend, that’s obviously unfair.

  “You’re good for money and everything,” Felix Armistead says distractedly, hoping he can do something to help but feeling funny about asking. That’s something else we have in common. I’d rather just write a check and never speak of it at all, and Felix never met a problem he couldn’t just throw money at to make it go away. Usually too much.

  “We’re good. Christian gets mad when I pay for stuff.”

  “He knows where the money comes from,” Felix Armistead nods, commiserating, but I shake my head.

  “God no. Nobody needs to know that.”

  I may have left under a cloud, disillusioned and horrified by what my company was up to, but I did walk away with a hefty payout for my silence. I don’t know what Christian would think about all that.

  The fact that I haven’t told him says I probably do know what he’d think.

  “You’re lucky you got out when you did. I know it’s why they tried to pin it on you. Things have gotten steadily more abject.”

  Felix checks my face to see if I’m interested, and of course I am. I’
ve gotten good at avoiding news of the scandal in my own life, but Felix’s gift for gossip and flair for storytelling is unparalleled.

  “Well. By the end, the buyouts were just down to nothing. Anybody who stayed past that first quarter, their loyalty was repaid with diminishing returns. The last ones out didn’t get anything at all. That’s to say nothing of the reputational stink. If you’d waited until the firm was famously corrupt, you couldn’t get a job anywhere in the country.”

  I shudder, grateful for small favors.

  “Not that you need to,” he grins, basking in the details of my settlement like it’s his own money. He does love a deal. And money, to drastically simplify the relationship there.

  “They’re down to three main faces of the thing. If the world were fair, you wouldn’t be one of them. But as it is, there’s a paper trail.”

  What we both know, even if it doesn’t matter, is that I was technically the whistleblower. After I’d asked the same questions about our bad investments three or four times, I started getting negative attention from the executives. That was enough motivation to start digging, and what I found was horrifying.

  My name was on a lot of the worst of it, dating back to when I was just starting and signed off on anything my superiors handed me. They’d been setting me up for a while.

  “As the story comes out, it seems like any of us from the academy ended up marks for that sort of thing. I guess they just think we’re all flakes from rich families who don’t care about anything.”

  “Not all of us are,” I laugh, and he acts offended for a split second.

  “Anyway. Your immediate supervisor took a plea deal. His boss is already indicted on a related scam he was a part of, outside the company.”

  I nod. I’d put that together for myself, eventually.

  “So word around town is that when the company goes down and they start digging into the history here, it’s really just you they’ll have to pin it on. You’re good-looking enough to be annoying, rich enough to be hated, and you vanished right on schedule. You couldn’t have planned it out any better. They will be coming for you.”

  I nod, queasy. Jonesy’s been keeping me up to date on a lot of this, but it’s sickening to have it all confirmed.

  “And of course, none of the people who really did the heavy lifting, or planned out the whole evil thing, will be anywhere nearby. It’ll look like you skated by without getting punished.”

  “I came here to dry out and hide out. I’m doing a great job of both. It’s going to be bad, but you don’t need to be…”

  “There’s more,” he says, nervous for once, and my stomach drops.

  “What, is the east coast getting involved?” The real money, Manhattan. The true psychos, the scary guys. He nods, then shakes his head. Yes. But that’s not the biggie.

  “Since you took your buyout, they tried to diversify the fund. Spread out the damage. They made a bunch of panicked, bad investments in new sectors.”

  I hadn’t heard this part. I’m already getting nervous, even if I have no idea where he’s going with this. It sounds exactly like something my company would do, once you got rid of anybody with a brain or sense of ethics.

  “So, one of the industries they really screwed up with Highpoint was, uh…”

  He won’t spit it out. It’s driving me insane. But something about the way he looks around the house suddenly, scouting for details, makes my stomach drop.

  “No.”

  He nods. Petroleum. They got into the oil boom. Probably cost a bunch of people their life savings in the process. Probably people right here in Salt Flats. Most likely at least a few people I…

  “Felix…”

  There’s a firm set to his lips as he breathes deeply, nodding his head. His nose whistles a little bit with the force of it.

  “This is the epicenter, old bean. You need to get with your local contacts immediately, see if anybody you knew was part of it.”

  I shake my head, sick and furious and sad. I already know.

  “Christian’s husband lost their savings in a bad fund, dude. His dead husband.”

  Felix Armistead’s eyes go wide. He figured it might be close to me, his silent horror shows it. But not like this.

  “Maybe not! Maybe this is not that. Do you know anything about those investments? Maybe we can get somebody back home to follow the money. Or do you know where he keeps his files, here in the house?”

  “We’re not doing that. And I already know.”

  My stomach tells me that somehow, I’m going to end up the one who destroyed Christian’s life. That’s the painfully ironic way this was going to work out, of course it is. And from the worried look on his face, Felix seems to be on the same page.

  “Okay. So, that’s the new problem. What do you want to do about it?”

  “Do? I can’t do anything. I came here to run away from my problems, not drag them here. If I’m directly connected to the…you haven’t spent time with these kids, Felix. You’ll see, they’re incredible. And I…”

  Felix puts his hands on my forearms, squeezing to get my attention.

  “Hold on just a minute, bro. You didn’t sign off on these deals. You were long gone. Because you saw what was happening. You walked away from that corruption and ended up bringing them down. You are very specifically not to blame for this. Don’t make it something.”

  But it is something, I know it is. After months of trying to support him and get him through this tragedy, it turns out I’m practically responsible for it.

  “That explains the Silly Man, too,” I murmur, and Felix is so confused now he barks out a laugh.

  “The who now?”

  “The Silly Man. He…death threat guy. From last night. Before you showed up.”

  Felix nods. That checks out.

  “But that’s not all of it. Jonesy Kirkendall said they’re going to come with pitchforks if my name comes out. We know that’s a when, not an if. Soon, not someday.”

  He nods, in real anguish for me. It’s not a side of him I’ve seen too often.

  “Felix, what do I do? Run? Come clean? Go to the pack and ask for amnesty? Try to write it all down succinctly enough that he’ll forgive me? And even if Christian does, how can I expect to live here? I should just pay his mortgage and vanish. That’s what I should do.”

  Felix knows better than to agree out loud, but I can tell he thinks it’s the best possible plan. It’s funny how fast these instincts come back.

  “But say I do run. News comes out. My face is everywhere. Christian hates me no matter where I live. No more kids in my life for sure. I just have to start over somewhere else. I don’t even know if there are towns smaller than this anymore, Armistead. I don’t even know if they exist.”

  He pats my chest, worried.

  “There are towns way smaller and shittier than this. You’re spiraling. Get it together.”

  I breathe, trying to regain my calm.

  “What would you do?”

  He cocks his head and nods.

  “Me? I would tell Christian everything. Immediately. Before he finds it out from somewhere else. I’d see what your friend Jamie…”

  “Jonesy,” I say, and he snorts.

  “I just can’t believe that’s a name. This place is hilarious. Okay, you need to ask Jonesy what he’s hearing, and what he would do to defuse this situation. Then you need to pack your shit, just in case.”

  My stomach sinks. One more thing that makes it real.

  “Pack up again? I feel like I’ve lived here forever.”

  “You have, buddy. But if they do come with pitchforks, do you want Christian and the kids to see it?”

  If it gets bad enough, they’ll be outcasts too. But when Felix sees the next idea cross my face, he stands up like he might physically put the idea back where it came from.

  “We talked about this before, buttercup. You signed a nondisclosure. You can’t blow any whistles right now without risking it all. Your settlement is void if
you do that. They’ll come at you for every cent you’re worth. Times ten.”

  I let out a lupine whine of frustration, staring into the yard.

  “Don’t we know any lawyers who can fix that? Give me advice, or…”

  “Bean. The kind of company that pulls shit like this is not a company that’s going to give you a leaky NDA. That thing will be airtight, I promise. You have to keep your mouth shut. It’s the only way to make sure you and this family are protected.”

  I nod glumly. He’s right.

  And if Christian decides I’m garbage and kicks me out, that’s honestly fine with me. At least when the Silly Man comes back to murder me the kids won’t be around to get stuck in the crossfire. Again.

  Valid Reasons

  “More champagne? You need more champagne. I can always tell.”

  What we know about this Felix Armistead character. He’s the only person Dominic was sorry to leave behind when he left California. He is a scoundrel, a reprobate. I honestly can’t tell if that’s a bad thing, or an exaggeration. They bonded as shifters in Dominic’s first years at the academy, got into loads of trouble over the years, had an apartment together after college.

  “I always need more champagne,” Jonesy chuckles. “So that’s hardly impressive.”

  Jonesy tips back his glass, and smiles at me past the rim. We’re on the same side. Today more than ever, as Dominic’s closest friends, it’s our privilege and our duty to vet this guy before we decide if he can stay.

  Felix nods, seemingly delighted, and downs the last bit of his own glass before pointing at Dominic with some obscure, in-joke glint in his eye. There are a lot of those, it turns out. Most of which we’re assured aren’t worth explaining.

  As much as Dominic misses him, he gets that Felix is also everything he’s “trying to get away from,” I am absolutely certain there are plenty of things on the list I don’t need to know about. Casual buddy-sex, drugs, wild partying. Shallow friendships with absolutely terrible people. All the things rich people do to fill the void, whatever they are.