The Billionaire Brute

by Hart, Romi

  I look over and see Laura giving me a, What The Fuck face. Oh Jesus, dad actually talked about marriage twice! I never brought it up. Shit, but Laura’s probably freaking out right about now, thinking I’m moving too fast.

  “I’m not…I’m not…” Laura tries to reply but I interrupt her. This is not her fight. It’s mine.

  “It doesn’t matter, dad. And no, I’m not here to ask your blessings for marriage. Honestly, we haven’t even talked about that. But I am here to ask you one question.”

  “The answer is NO.”

  “You know, it doesn’t matter. Nothing you’re going to say is going to hurt me or surprise me. But for my own curiosity, I just have to see your face. I want to record your reaction in my mind forever.”

  My father crinkles his face, looking confused. “What?”

  “Did you murder my real mother?”

  “Oh, Good Christ,” he says, laughing and looking away.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You’re serious? You’re asking me…”

  “Funny thing, dad. I don’t remember anything about Caitlynn. Damnest thing, right? I remember my mother. My real mother. Her name was Barbara. And I have this vague, very vague recollection of seeing you hit my mother. And her falling to the ground unconscious. DEAD. Bleeding on the floor. Is any of this ringing a bell?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Where was Caitlynn when all this happened? Why don’t I remember anything about her, childhood memories? Nothing. I just always remember her at parties with you. Billionaire events, in front of cameras. But where was my real mother in all this? She was dead, wasn’t she? You sent me to that quack therapist and he put all this shit into my head.”

  “False memories!” he screams, looking and pointing at Laura. “She did this to you! You are getting played, boy.”

  “So that memory of my mother being beaten up, that was Caitlynn?”

  “You’re experiencing a false memory, Byron. She has put all these crazy fantasies into your head.”

  “So, you’re saying I hallucinated Barbara? She’s not real?”

  “YES. I promise you. Why would I lie about that? I married your mother.”

  “So…” I pull out the death certificate of Barbara Kalvan-Gallows and throw it onto his desk. “Were you hallucinating when you married Barbara and then forgot about her? Did you forgett you ever knew her? Did a therapist brainwash you into forgetting her? Or wait…here’s an easier explanation. You’re lying. You’ve always lied to me.”

  He hesitates. Looks heartbroken, as if I’ve got it all wrong. But I stare him down. And eventually, his frown melts away into an angry, violent expression, gazing right at me.

  “Some things are private, Byron. Some stones are better left unturned.”

  “So you admit it?”

  “You’re cut off from this family. For good. All the money, Byron, it’s mine. It stays with my legacy. You’ll never see a dime of my empire. Are you happy now?”

  “You know what? I am happy.”

  “And is your slut of a girlfriend happy? Will she be happy when she realizes you’re worth about fifty bucks and a boff in a hotel room? The rest is mine?”

  Laura shakes her head but I speak up. She doesn’t have to dignify any of this.

  “It doesn’t matter. You killed my mother. You won’t even admit it. You’ve probably paid top dollar to cover that up.”

  “NO,” he responds in venom. “I have something better than money, Byron. Power. Fear. Respect. Men who will die for me rather than see my empire, their wealth fall. I have no need to answer you about my private business. But your disloyalty is on clear display. Take your trailer trash girlfriend and get the fuck out of my life.”

  “I was so loyal to you,” I say, shaking my head back and forth. “I never believed any of the media stories. I believed in you. I believed they didn’t know the real you. But I was the stupid one. I didn’t know the real you.”

  “Get out. Don’t you ever come back.”

  “Oh! I’ll be back.”

  “NO, YOU WON’T!” he screams as I take Laura by the hand and we storm out of his office. “Or I’ll have you thrown in jail. I’ll turn your little whore out and send her to a brothel in Mexico!”

  “You ever touch a hair on her head, I’ll kill you myself,” I respond, just loud enough for him to hear. I feel weak, dizzy…ashamed. I can’t even look into his eyes. It hurts too much. But he has to hear it again.

  “I’ll kill you, old man. And the world won’t miss you. Not worth a shit. Because God knows we don’t need another rich, old, white misogynistic asshole running the world.”

  “GET OUT!” his voice grows smaller as we hurry out of his house. Not because of him, that weak piece of shit, but because I’m so jacked up I’m afraid I’m going to rip through his chest and pull his heart out right now, if I don’t get the fuck out of here.

  “Let’s go, let’s get the fuck out of this country,” I say, roaring my car engine and speeding down the old road like a race car driver. No, more like a maniac.

  Laura is reeling all over the car and breathing hard. She’s scared to death.

  “Byron, it’s okay.”

  “NO, it’s not. Fucker can keel over and die. I had to leave…not because I was afraid but I was going to punch him in the face.”

  “I’m glad you left. Violence accomplishes nothing, but honey – WATCH THE ROAD!”

  She screams, right as I slam into a curb and send us both rocking back and forth.

  “Sorry. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  “NO, you’re not. Honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what happened. But you can’t drive right now. You’re in no condition.”

  “No, I’m fine. Promise.”

  I turn hard and send the car skidding onto the country road. “As soon as I’m on the freeway I’ll be all right. It’s just a straight shot.”

  She panics. Trying to figure out a secret word, a code, anything to snap me out of this angry trance.

  “Byron Gallows, stop the car!”

  “I told you I’m fine!” The fucking car is shifting all over the place, must be slippery roads or something.

  “Please stop the car. Don’t lose your mother and your girlfriend, who loves you in the same day. Please.”

  I blink fast, ready to argue, ready to scream and shout. But then, gradually or not so gradually, I slam on the brakes, sending the car into a hard but definite stop right on an empty country road. We stall. I hold onto the brake, still shaking.

  “What?” I say, looking over at her, unable to stare into her eyes.

  “Thank you. I love you,” she says, her eyelids red from grief.

  “I love you too,” I mumble back. “You’re the only person I love anymore”, I say with my voice cracking.

  I can’t hold back the fire anymore. Tears roll down my cheeks and it takes everything inside me to stop from choking.

  She reaches over and hugs me. She grabs me tight, her warmth, her aura, it calms me. She’s the only thing I believe in, the only one I’ve loved or ever loved. I have nothing left to my name but I still have her. And I’m still rich.

  Chapter 12

  Laura

  Months have passed since Byron’s revelation. That night, he cried into my arms for two hours. Coughing up hate and suppressed emotions. It was cathartic, healing. Not just for him but for me too. It allowed me to lift this veil, this mask of cynicism I’ve had up. I know by now, that he means well. He’s young, reckless and impulsive. But the man has never had anyone trustworthy to look up to, and apparently no one worthy of his love. At least, not since the days of his late mother.

  We both said “I love you” in the heat of the moment. We haven’t spoken of it since. Probably because we’re both terrified to be the first one to “break” and admit that we’ve fallen for each other. I think he loves me. But I’m still afraid to call him out on it. I don’t want to pressure him into loving me.

  I’m so glad I was able to
be there for him as a friend and mentor. But he doesn’t owe me a relationship just because of that. It’s what any decent person would do if they were in a position to help.

  Still, we’ve been very close ever since. Almost too close, in the sense that he’s treating me more like a big sister than a fuck buddy as of late. I have to be okay with that, just in case he decides to date someone else.

  It might hurt me at first, but ultimately, he must make his own decisions and have his own moments of discovery.

  I’ve also since told Bill that I love and respect him, but that I’m not going to keep him on the “back burner” in case things don’t work out with Byron. He deserves more than that. To my relief, he told me he’s dating a twenty-year-old who happens to think he’s amazingly intelligent. Good for him. And yes, it is true what he says. We all like to think we’re still young at heart, and age is just a number. Go get her, Bill!

  Byron has been keeping me updated with the latest news. His father did cut him off from the company and eliminated almost ninety percent of his assets. His lawyer only managed to save a few investments, keeping him slightly out of the poor house.

  But poor Byron, he was reduced to having less money than me! And a therapist’s salary, well, let’s just say we won’t be planning a trip to Paris anytime soon.

  We also confronted Byron’s doctor and got him to admit that he manipulated Byron’s emotions for money. Not only did Byron sue him but he got Dr. Hart reported to the State Medical Board. He’s probably going to lose his license soon and Byron and I will have a toast when that day comes.

  Byron did eventually go to the police but as we expected nothing came from it. The police shot holes in his presented evidence, calling it a conspiracy theory. They did admit that in fact Alfred Gallows was legally married to Barbara Kalvan for a while but that it’s not a crime to lie about your first wife. Her official death certificate said, “Natural Causes.” I shudder to think of how much Alfred paid the mortician to cover that murder up. Probably a far smaller sum than people might think.

  When a man as powerful as Alfred Gallows commits a crime, people look the other way. Even if they know he did it, just like Byron was trained to do. They suppress. They make excuses. Alfred gaslights them into believing the lie, just like he tried to do with me and Byron – telling his son I implanted false memories in him.

  Whatever. At least a small percentage of the population knows what a monster he is. And that will have to suffice.

  Byron even tried to go public with his accusation, taking his claim to NBC and CBS News. But of course, since Alfred Gallows is such a powerful man, he had the story killed. No one wants to believe a renegade son who’s exposing the wicked deeds of one of the world’s most important men. He keeps the economy running and that’s why they need him.

  Sometimes I wonder if Byron is backing off in the relationship because he thinks I don’t want him anymore. That I was only attracted to his money and his fame. Although I didn’t even know who he was at first!

  I don’t know. But at least he knows we’re friends for life, regardless of what happens next. I take joy in knowing that I was an important part of his life and he confided so deeply in me. It’s the sort of meaningful friendship that’s more important than sex. Even though I really do miss the sex, oh yes, I really do. I’m actually very happy to have been part of his growth and his maturing into a fine, decent and moral man. That’s really all that matters in life anyway.

  To my surprise, instead of going to coffee with mother, I have been whisked away to a very special dinner date with Byron Gallows. He practically begged me to come with him, as he made plans to talk with a very old friend of his. One of his many “compartmentalized friends”, or categories of friends, that he needed for various purposes at one time.

  Ironically, now he has no need of his friend or more to the point. Simeon Hollock, the world’s famous fantasy novelist, has no need of Byron’s friendship. But to Byron’s pleasant surprise, Simeon still wanted to meet with him. Yes, even though Byron had no power or fame to speak of, and even though Alfred practically blacklisted us from mingling with all the other A-list celebrities.

  Simeon was a charismatic man and very polite when he shook hands with both of us.

  “I’m honored that you decided to meet with me,” Byron says, a humble tone in his voice.

  “Sure, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Simeon says with a laugh.

  “How’s your girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I actually got married last summer. We sent you an invitation.”

  “Sorry, I was busy…”

  “Don’t worry. We really didn’t expect you to come.”

  “Well, I guess we might as well broach the subject. My father cut me out of the inheritance. I don’t have a pot to piss in anymore.”

  “You still have all those shares in Calem Limited, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. But that’s nothing to write home about.”

  “So, what really happened, Byron? Is it true what they say?”

  “What do they say?”

  “Well, that you had a falling out over some Mexican immigrants. Your father was open borders and you were a build-the-wall supporter.”

  “That’s bullshit,” laughs Bryon. “It had nothing to do with politics. My father always liked to spin the story, didn’t he?”

  “What was it? I’m dying to know.”

  “My father’s an evil man, Simeon.”

  “Really?”

  “Not just politically evil or whatever they say about him. He’s a cold, calculating, violent murderer.”

  “What? Your father is a murderer?”

  “He murdered my mother. Probably many other people who got in his way. I know for a fact he murdered my mother because I recalled the memory recently. I confronted him with the truth, caught him in a lie and guess what happened.”

  “Wow,” Simeon says, surprisingly not in too much disbelief. “So the stories are true.”

  “What stories?”

  “Well, they’ve been spreading all over the Internet for quite some time. Stories that your father has a dark past. That he’s part of a sinister organization. Murders, sex rituals…”

  “The sex rituals part, yeah. That’s definitely true. We were there.” He smiles at me and I nervously glance back. “Err, as spectators only.”

  “Kinky,” Simeon says with a nod. “Byron, do you realize how much people would eat this story up, if you came forward? People are just dying to hate your father. He’s already the most hated man in the world by ill-reputation alone. Exposing his secret sins would be scandalous. You’d probably make six figures instantly, just by signing a book deal.”

  “Well, that’s the problem. I’ve tried. No one in the media will believe me. It’s my word against his.”

  “Oh my God. Byron, don’t you feel it? The gold mine we’re sitting on top of. If we took down Alfred Gallows, there would be world-changing consequences. It would be news for years on end, even decades.”

  “For better or worse?”

  “For better. According to what I’ve read, he’s been monopolizing hundreds of different industries. Suppressing reporters, burying accusations. Intimidating witnesses. I always thought it was hear-say until you confirmed it.”

  “But how can you trust me?” Byron says.

  “Because…you’re a friend. That’s what friends do. And besides, you’ve never lied about anything. No one’s ever caught you in a lie. All they’ve said about you is that you hate immigrants.”

  “That’s a lie!” Byron says.

  “Well, that and also you lay with lots of women.”

  “Well…that part was true.”

  “And that you carry several STDs.”

  “That’s NOT true! Jesus Christ, the tabloids. My father is such a lying prick.”

  “So,” I finally interrupt, laughing with the boys. “Since we know all that shit is a lie and since we both have the records to prove it. What do you think we can do about it? To br
ing this fucker down?”

  “If I could just get an interview in a magazine…but no one returns my calls.”

  “How about I write an article on behalf of you? Telling the real story about Alfred Gallows? I could vouch for your reputation. They have to listen to me. I’ve been on the NYT bestseller list for 200 weeks.”

  Byron’s face lights up. He almost looks like he’s going to cry. “Simeon…that would be so great. I would owe you one forever. I would owe you…”

  “No, nobody owes me anything. The truth is always revealed. That’s just nature, that’s just the order of the universe, my friend. Whatever you’re hiding, it’s going to come out eventually. I found that out myself, the hard way, not too long ago.”

  Byron nods respectfully, sucking up to Simeon. But more than anything, he’s relieved. The idea that he could be vindicated. That he could get a second chance, brings his passion back to life.

  But in my mind, it’s not a second chance. Byron never did anything wrong. It’s just his time to shine. He’s earned this. And this time, no one’s going to take it from him.

  Alfred Gallows – Extortionist, Blackmailer, Tax Evader and Murderer

  * * *

  The headline was dynamite all right! Simeon Hollock was thorough, as he always is in his fiction. But for his expose on Alfred Gallows, he crossed every T and dotted every I. He provided an abundance of named sources and references and connected the dots. The fact that Simeon Hollock grabbed hold of that story made it official, gave it clout. They couldn’t dismiss it as conspiracy theory because Simeon did the research and reviewed year by year, the full number of crimes Alfred was accused of, and how he paid major news outlets to bury the story.

  He embarrassed not only Alfred but also every news organization who cowardly suppressed those accusations. And as we all know, embarrassment is one of the primal forces of motivation in humankind.