by Maggie Twain
“Cases like mine?”
He shrugs. “People have emergencies. Natural disasters, medical or familial. It sounds to me like you check at least two of those boxes.” He writes down a name and location on a piece of paper and slides it across the table. “You definitely have a case. Just speak to Bailey and state yours.”
I feel a flood of relief wash through me. “Thank you.” It might not be enough to enable me to quit working but right now, any funds at all would be a help.
“Oh, and Haley?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to hear you snoring again in class.”
I don’t delay in plodding across campus straight to the school’s admin department. I knock on the door and enter and who I assume to be Bailey, a tiny slip of a thing, is wedged in the corner at a desk that looks huge with her sitting behind it. My eyes are drawn to the large X that’s been spray-painted in red on the carpet a full four or five meters in front. Despite having her own office she’s still wearing a face mask, which is major overkill, especially when they’re no longer compulsory in most places.
She holds up a hand for me not to move any closer, even though the large red cross is impossible to miss. “Where’s your mask?” She shakes her head dismissively and points off to my side. “Never mind, but would you disinfect your hands.”
“Oh,” I do as she says because, well, it’s her office and she might just be the person who saves my education, career, and quite possibly my life. When I return to the X, she’s watching me intently, although it’s impossible to see the expression behind her covering. This whole thing already feels weird. “I was told to speak to you about applying to the emergency fund.”
“Sorry, you’re too late,” she says immediately and with finality, and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut.
“But … um, I was told that…”
“We’ve had an unprecedented increase in applicants because of the virus.”
“Oh,” my gaze dips to the floor, I should probably have been prepared for that, and getting my hopes up was extremely stupid, “well, thanks for your time.” I turn to leave and make it halfway to the door when she calls across the room for me to hold up. “Yeah?”
Her eyes are squinting across the distance. “Tell me, why do you need access to the fund?”
I can only hesitate with confusion, given I was just told there’s no money, so what’s the point in any further questions? Regardless, I’m a nice gal so I answer and do so by explaining the situation with my parents before finishing with the name, “Larry Haddad.”
She’s looking at me with increasing interest. “So you’re here on a scholarship?”
I shake my head free of the cobwebs. “Um, was, but I wasn’t the only one who…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she’s shuffling through some papers now, “and how old are you?”
Ok, this is getting strange. “Nineteen, but what’s this have to do with…”
“Shhhh,” she holds up a silencing finger because she’s trying to concentrate on whatever’s written on that paper and she makes several glances between it and me. It kind of looks like she’s making a silent judgment, weighing things up, and it’s almost enough to bring back a tiny bit of hope. Form, however, tells me to remain sober on that score. “Perhaps…” she trails off but there’s something in her tone that’s even more encouraging.
“Yes?”
“How tall are you?”
“Excuse me?”
She slaps the papers down to the wood then squirts disinfectant into her hands and rubs them keenly together. “And how’s your general health? Any history of disease or abnormalities passed down through your family?”
My eyes have gone glassy but I shake it off. “And the answers to these rather personal questions are contingent to receiving funds?” I sound only half jokey but I’m definitely intrigued.
Her face flares red. “Can’t you just answer?”
My head jerks back and I exhale. “Well, my father had an operation to remove his cataracts, if that’s good enough for you, and my mother could probably stand to lose a bit of weight.”
“Pffft,” she waves a dismissive hand and gives herself another squirt of disinfectant.
I wander forwards towards the X again, causing her to raise her palms in panic for me to stop. “What’s this about?”
She looks at me straight on and displays a mischievous grin. “The fund has run out of money but there’s this other thing you might want to check out.”
Chapter Two
Decker
“Towel!” I reach out and Carey hands it over. I wipe the sweat from my face and then give it back. My feet stomp heavy on the treadmill, my happy place, the place I do my thinking, and lately I’ve been spending so much time on the treadmill that it’s a wonder I haven’t yet solved world hunger.
“Water!” I hold out my hand and Carey passes the bottle. He’s wearing black latex gloves as per my insistence whenever he’s in my proximity. I drain half the container in one pull and wipe my mouth with the back of a forearm. Through the window ahead, I see only the beautiful grounds of the Carrington Country Club, lovely lawns, ponds, birds and trees, and I can’t stand the idea of having to give this place up, along with most of my other considerable assets and investments. I built an empire with my own hands, blood, sweat, tears, but because I used Astor money, it might very well all be taken from me.
“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty,” I increase the speed so that now I’m almost at a sprint and the sudden increase in exertion causes my chest to constrict, my thoughts to manifest, “fifty-fifty between Tanner and myself.”
Carey leans closer because when I’m panting like this it’s hard for him to understand me. He has to raise his voice over the rhythmical sound of bouncing, not to mention being heard through his face covering, which he wears also at my instruction. “Not one chance in three?”
I laugh, very nearly losing balance, and I’m quick to grab the rails at either side to save myself from a twisted ankle or worse. “Careful with the jokes.” I shake my head and take a moment to gather my equilibrium before placing my feet back onto the rapidly moving track. “Believe me, Butcher’s no concern. He’d only want the money so he could give it all away, just to piss the rest of us off, but even ten billion dollars ain’t enough to motivate that guy into making an effort, at least not unless it’s something to do with dancing naked around a campfire with a dozen other long-haired losers whilst dosed up on hallucinogens.” All I can do is exhale profoundly at the very thought of the family embarrassment. Butch would be an embarrassment to a family of hobos but to the Astor’s he’s something we simply prefer not to think about at all. No, Tanner’s the one to keep an eye on, especially after the death of his wife, because ever since that awful event, he throws himself into absolutely everything he does. A man possessed. Helps keep his mind off things, which I guess is totally understandable. He’ll want this ten billion dollars, no doubt about it, which means he’ll be launching himself into this little game of grandpa’s the same way he has his soccer team, fashion chain and just about everything else. There’s not a chance in Hell he’ll want to lose everything he’s built any more than I do. I get it.
The problem is there can only be one winner.
And as much as I love my brothers, that doesn’t mean I necessarily respect them, at least not both of them. As much as I love my brothers, I don’t love them enough to want to lose my own future. And there’s little doubting the pair of them feel the same way.
An idea has come to me, which makes my feet feel lighter against the rubber. “I’m gonna need an eye kept on Tanner. His progress.” Caution is good. Especially where he’s concerned. “He’ll need following. His phone tapped. Emails. You see him with a woman, I want to know everything about her. Her trash scoured. Car tailed. Bedroom window watched. You got that?”
Carey nods uncomfortably, it’s not the kind of thing he’s used to being asked to do and for a moment I consider h
iring a pro but no, Carey’s absolutely my best man. It’s about trust. “You sure you don’t want anything doing about your other brother?”
“I’m sure Tanner’s thinking about doing the exact same to me.”
“Deck? I’m talking about Butch.”
“In fact, I’d be surprised if Tanner ain’t already watching me … probably has since the summit. Maybe he’s listening right now.”
He shakes his head and if he said anything, I don’t hear it through the mask.
Thanks to the virus, my idiosyncrasies no longer come across as so strange. Now, I can hide in plain sight. People wear masks and now finally I can breathe. Yes, I’m an odd contradiction, I freely admit to that. Sharing air makes me feel dirty, dust is a nuisance to my peace of mind, I hate being touched more than just about anything on this planet and the very thought of another person’s sweat disgusts me completely. And yet here I am, heaving breaths from heavy exertion and basking in the glow of my own perspiration that runs off my flesh like a torrential downpour from the tip of a leaf. I must be the only man in America who would admit to fucking loving what this virus has done.
I drag a hand through my damp hair and shake loose the drops. “Towel!”
Carey hands it over. “Have you thought about making a pact? I wish Barber many more happy years but once he’s gone, surely the three of you can do whatever you want with the money.” He takes back the soggy towel. “What’s to stop you all meeting in secret and agreeing to split the money evenly when the time comes?”
I give him a reprimanding look. “You think I haven’t already thought about that? First of all, if Tanner believes he has an edge over me then he’ll take the chance and play for the whole pile. Ten billion’s gotta be better than three, right? I’m telling you, these last two years, he’s been completely cutthroat, he’s not the same man I always knew, not at all. Fuck, the ironic thing is that perhaps another woman, someone good enough to replace Kristina might be precisely the thing he needs, to finally end his grieving and get his head back on track, maybe even bring back the brother I always knew.” I increase the incline so that now I’m sprinting uphill, my chest burning ferociously, fire, pain, adrenaline, fueling my thoughts, my thinking. “But if that means I have to be cut out, he can forget it. I won’t take it. He can spend the rest of his life wallowing in misery for all I care. Either that or he can find a woman in his own time but he can do it considerably poorer.”
“And second of all?”
“The second thing is that my grandpa isn’t stupid. It’s been stipulated that the entire fortune must go to only one of us and that Hoffmann guy who’s been his lawyer all these years is about as competent a shyster as there is, or ever has been. The money goes through the family accountants and they have links to Hoffmann, which means he knows what happens to every cent, and the minute the winner so much as transfers a dollar over to one of his brothers, the whole lot diverts straight to Hoffmann.” And I reckon the bastard wouldn’t mind that.
“Whoa…” Carey’s hands find their way into his hair, causing me to avert my eyes.
I suppress the shudder. “Exactly, now cast the rest of that water to the trash. The towel as well.”
He does. “So what are you going to do? It isn’t like you not to have a plan.”
I give him another disappointed look. “Come on, you know me better than that.”
I’ll cautiously put Carey to the task of keeping tabs on Tanner but the most important job, that of finding a woman to impregnate, I was hardly likely to designate to someone else. The moment I left the family summit, I came straight back here, fired up the treadmill and an hour later there was a plan beginning to take shape in my head. A bit of research, some money and a few calls later and it was all but ready to put into action.
My personal assistant, trainer, security guard, driver and confidant shrugs. “You gonna let me in on this or not?” He’s frowning because he’s hurt at being kept out the loop but he has to understand that some things are just so important that I have to see to them personally. More to the point, however, Tanner might be listening, somehow, even now, though no matter how good he might be, there’s no chance he can hear the thoughts inside my head, at least not until they’ve been spoken out loud.
I stop the motor and, dripping wet from stinging sweat, I step off the treadmill before fixing myself a protein shake. We’re in my own private section of the club, my sanctuary from germs, from bad air, from people. I take a seat at one of the couches and increase the volume on the screens so that the football game’s all but deafening. I beckon with my hand for Carey to move closer, but not too close. “Tell me, who needs money more than anyone else?”
He’s regarding me like I’ve gone mad. “Everyone needs money. Always.”
“That’s right but there are some people who are more desperate for those greenbacks than most.”
He shrugs. “The homeless?”
Now I’m looking at him like he’s the mad one. “I’m not about to get a homeless woman knocked up, Carey.” He nods, conceding the point. I glance briefly towards the door, the window, and then lean closer. “Besides, a homeless person no longer fears it, they’re already on the streets, maybe even they’ve become used to the idea and aren’t necessarily in any rush to better their predicament, but for someone who’s about to become homeless … now, that’s a whole other proposition entirely. Such a person would do anything just to feel warm, fluffy and safe again.” I press the cold glass against my forehead and soak up the chill. “Now, add the prospect of being kicked out of college and suddenly, such an individual is likely to find themselves extremely motivated, particularly when the chance of having absolutely all of their problems taken care of is dangled right before their eyes.”
His face has gone slack. “You mean, you want me to go find some poor college student who’s willing to take a baster filled with creamy Astor goodness?”
“A baster? Don’t be absurd, only the best insemination clinic will do for an Astor,” I remark matter of fact.
His eyes roam over my sweating torso, stature, wavy blond curls and rugged appearance, and I dare say he even checks out my chest. No wonder gramps makes jokes about my sexuality when I keep men like this around but Carey’s my childhood buddy and I don’t care about what he chooses to do in the privacy of his own bedroom, or who he chooses to do it with, though I know why he’s suddenly gone tongue-tied and can guess what he’s thinking. That I could have any woman I want…
If only I ever tried.
Tanner suffered a tragedy with his one and only and I’m sure Butch has had more women than just about anyone, women whose names he never knew, whose faces he can’t even remember. If Tanner suddenly decided to become the family badass and Butch has always been the family embarrassment then that makes me the family enigma.
The one who nobody knows.
But the truth is I ain’t too difficult to understand. Carey understands me. At least most of the time. I want happiness the same as anyone else. And the thing with me is surprisingly simple. I’ve never put too much stock in women, at least not where the potential for happiness is concerned. As far as I care, they’re meant for breeding and that’s about it. One need only luck at what they’ve done to both my brothers to know my instincts have always been right on that score. You get too close and they can break you. Tanner’s case is obvious, and I often wonder if Butcher’s break up with his first love contributed to the way he’s been treating women ever since. There was also our father, Miller Astor, who went through a horrifying divorce with mom, one that ultimately drove him to his suicide and hence why the three of us are now in this situation. No, true happiness is to be found only in those greenbacks.
And women?
The way I’ve always understood it is to stay away.
Though now, in order to secure my greenbacks I’m being forced to take a woman.
I’m being forced to play a bullshit game.
That, however, does not mean I have to play
fair.
Irritated, Carey repeats himself. “Yo, Decks, do you want me to go and find you some poor college student to proposition?”
I sigh. “Now you can see why it was pointless telling you my thoughts.” I down the rest of the protein and slam the glass to the table. “I don’t want just any ordinary college student, not to carry my baby.” Despite the urgency of the situation, the mother of my child has to be someone worthy enough to carry the Astor name, to continue our legacy.
All my life, every time I’ve visited gramps at his estate, I’ve had to pass between the statues of our ancestors, some of whom were truly great men. I’ve always been aware of the heavy responsibility placed upon the three of us, a burden, so to speak, to choose the right woman, because she’s the one whose very blood will flow through my children. Those children will go forward and in turn, pass on the great Astor name.
Women may indeed only be for breeding purposes but that doesn’t mean I will settle for just anybody. The most important things I want are intelligence and beauty. She’ll also need to be free of hereditary conditions.
I place my feet on the ottoman and lean back. “Only the best breeding stock will suffice for an Astor.” I lower my voice for this next bit. “You know, we have perhaps the greatest college in the world, just down the road. Why waste such an asset?”
“You mean Har...?” He catches himself just in time and laughs. “A bunch of spoiled, privileged kids. Do you really think life’s so hard for any of them that they’d be willing to stretch their bellies, not to mention their pussies, just to save your inheritance?” He shakes his head and can’t hide the smirk. “I mean, how bad does some congressman’s daughter need the money, really?”
“You’re making a huge generalization there, Carey, and besides, I’ve already made inquiries.” Indeed, I have. “They’re not all rich kids who go there, most, sure, but far from all. There are many, many relatively poor students on scholarships and while yes, it’s true that a great deal of those are handed out as favors and backhanders to the dimwit children of donors and cronies, there are some that are bestowed for merit alone.” He’s looking at me now with increasing interest. “These are the people I’m interested in. Girls whose station would never permit their access to such an education … were it not for their incredible intellect.”