Referring to the out of court settling of a civil suit, alleging that he seduced two twelve-year-old girls, brought back mixed emotions for Louis. On one hand, robbing them of their sweet innocence was, in his mind, worth the risk. On the other hand, the price was way too high. The girls’ status, as two of the city’s underprivileged, meant that without a high-end law firm behind them to tackle the Carew name and wealth, they were unlikely to see a dime from the man who drugged, stripped, and raped them, each in turn, until he tired of the game.
“You just remember who kept the criminal charges from going to trial, mister! Your cash may have paid those brats off, but my influence got you off, and don’t you forget it!”
The younger Carew needed no reminding. The humiliation he felt at the time flushed again in his gut.
“I remember,” he said bitterly. Louis remembered too that it was Jan Phillips and his oh-so-righteous Templars of Law that made possible the enrichment of a couple of Mexican wetbacks. Rather than take Louis on as a client, Jan instead decided to represent Louis’s alleged victims in the civil action. For once, the Carew name was useless. Twelve years had passed, and Louis had hardened into a man of thirty-six. He’d also developed the spine that he lacked when his father rescued him from the clutches of Graterford Prison. He vowed to get even with Jan Phillips one day. The hatred he felt for Jan was as hot as the day he signed the check for those brats.
Victor Carew’s angry voice brought his son back to the present.
“Louis, I’m not interested in hitting you over the head with the past. I’ve got work to do, and one of these days I’m going to be able to do it without having to worry about you ruining your life, and mine as well. Thank God your mother isn’t here to see what you’ve become!”
A slavishly devoted son, Louis was just a boy when his mother died from a sudden aneurism. Afterward, he tried to transfer his love to his aloof and oftentimes forbidding, father. He became resentful of what he felt was his father’s crushing remoteness. Consequently, Louis felt unwelcome in his father’s home, much like a stray kitten, too pitiful to drive away, yet an unwanted addition to the household all the same. Brushes with school authorities and the law were mere cries for attention. Victor put these down to rebellion and meted out stiff penalties, which only served to widen the gulf between son and father. Over time, their battered relationship morphed into one of neutral adversaries, each hopelessly unaware of the other’s wondering need.
“What I’ve become is what you made me!” Louis snapped. “Now, will you please tell me what you want?”
“What?” Victor said, wondering what his son meant.
Louis rolled his eyes and whined, “What do you want? I still don’t know why I’m here.”
Louis’s father made a sour face, walked behind his desk, and pulled out a drawer.
“Here, explain this, if you can,” he said.
Victor slammed a DVD case on the desk. On the cover was what appeared to be the meat department of a supermarket. A man and woman, locked in the throes of pornographic passion, copulated on a butcher’s table. The title read: “Manager’s Special—Ready For the Fire—Bone In!”
Victor Carew flipped the case over and read the production credits.
“It says, ‘LC Enterprises’, Louis. That’s you, isn’t it!”
Louis stared at the leather-clad desktop without looking directly at the hottest DVD product his mini-production company was currently marketing in all of Philadelphia’s porno parlors.
He raised his eyes, trying to look at ease.
“So?” he answered coolly.
“Is that all you have to say? Well, Mr. Hollywood, what about this?”
With that, Victor retrieved a second DVD. This one was far different from the other. Splashed across the glossy cover, a very young boy performed fellatio on a clearly much older male. A large red dot masked the area around the boy’s mouth.
“Is that boy legal, Louis?”
Louis shrugged. “He says he is. He has state ID. It’s all on record.”
“Yeah, right. And you know as well as I do a fake ID is as easy to get in Philadelphia as ice cream on a July Sunday!”
Victor regarded his son with a mixture of suspicion and pity. He had reproached himself countless times for his helpless indulgence. Never mind that Louis, from the age of thirteen, had begun to develop into a violent, cruel, power-hungry libertine. Victor shamefully realized that, aside from gluttony, his son wallowed in all the vices attributed to hell, and he enjoyed every one.
“Look, Dad,” Louis said, “the movies make good money. I haven’t dipped into our joint account in weeks. You should be happy!”
“Happy? Well excuse me, Louis, but running a business that could land you in federal prison makes me queasy, so you’ll forgive me if I seem somewhat sangfroid!”
Exasperated, Louis said, “Well, Dad, what do you want me to do?”
“Close down, or at least stop the porn.”
“No.”
Victor shook his head in disbelief.
“But… why not? Louis, you know I’ve got contacts in the film industry—legit, not the stuff you’re mixed up in.”
Louis resumed eyeing the carpet at his feet.
“Look,” Victor said hopefully, “you could make a documentary about Philadelphia, or the town in Scotland where your grandfather came from. Just do something else besides this sick stuff!”
Louis chewed the inside of his cheek. How many times has this old fart yelled at me? One of these days I’ll show him I can do a hell of a lot more than stand around and take his guff!
Louis wasn’t about to make documentaries or anything else when the porn business got him sex in numbers and varieties that rivaled the twelve Caesars. Still, he needed to quell his father’s anger and avoid the old man’s interference in his profligate lifestyle.
“Look, it’ll take some time, but I’ll think about it, promise. Okay?” Louis said, hoping his insincerity didn’t show.
Victor slumped into his desk chair and thought, I can’t trust him, but this is as good as I’ll get, for now. I’ll have him watched in the meantime.
He nodded grudgingly and said, “All right, Louie, all right. Wanna stay for dinner?”
“What are you having?”
“Pasta al forno.”
“Dad, you eat too much of that stuff. The carbs are gonna kill you.”
“Do I look like I’m ready for the grave?”
Louis looked at his father. He saw a tall, broad-shouldered, deep-chested man. No beer belly testified to overindulgence in food or drink. He also knew his father was a regular at the Pinnacle Club’s penthouse gymnasium.
“No, you don’t,” Louis admitted. “I’d like to stay. Thanks.”
As the two men made their way to the dining room, Louis’s cell phone emitted a soft burring sound. He stopped, pulled the phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and pressed the “read text” button.
“Dad, you go ahead, I’ve got to take this.”
“All right, boy, but don’t be too long. The pasta won’t wait.”
“Be there in a flash,” Louis said with a grin.
The younger Carew read the text message.
Special friend in town. Need entertainment. Call PK.
Seventeen
JAN sifted through the day’s mail and stopped when he came to a long pale yellow envelope. He glanced at the return address. The words, “All Souls, Deans Office,” caught his eye. Jan slipped a letter opener along the envelope’s flap. Extracting a precisely creased rectangle of stiff paper, he unfolded it and read Colin’s end-of-the-year grade report. He read and then reread the cold statistics. Numbers and letters that could either make or break a student’s future.
Jan walked into the study he and Michael shared.
Michael sat at one side of their partner’s desk, busily processing invoices. Jan walked over and handed Michael the sheet of paper with its neatly typed rows of data.
“What is this?�
� Michael asked.
Jan was grinning from ear to ear. He said, “Take a look.”
Michael ran his eyes over the paper.
“Wow! All A’s! And for the whole semester too! That is excellent. I am so happy for you. It is one thing you will not have to worry about. You must be very proud!”
“I would be if I had anything to do with raising him, but Colin’s native intelligence and his mother’s love made him the person he is, not me.”
“Genes count for a lot too. You know that, Jan. You are one smart fortune cookie!”
Jan smiled, slipped the grade report into the envelope, and put it near Colin’s computer.
“Jan, you must reward him. What do you think he would like?”
“A one-way ticket out of here would be my guess.”
“That is very cynical. He seems happy to me. At least he has not said anything to me about wanting to leave.”
Jan sighed. “I don’t think he would take either of us into his confidence if he was planning to run off. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being insecure. You know he’s never called me ‘Dad’, or ‘Pop’, or even ‘Father’. It’s always ‘sir’, and even then, it’s an awkward ‘sir’. And I know he spends more time on his computer than I like. He rarely initiates conversation, and when we do talk, he looks at anything and everything but me. He hasn’t volunteered any more information about how he’s getting on in school, or if he’s made more friends. Do you know if he’s had any phone calls?”
“How I would know a thing like that? He has his own phone.”
“Right. I’m not thinking,” Jan admitted.
“You really believe he would try to run away?” Michael said.
Jan shrugged his answer.
“Why not ask him the questions you want answered? Are you afraid he would feel you are intruding?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, perhaps he feels that if you do not ask, then you do not care.”
“You’re right. Michael, you’re so wise.”
“It is an Asian thing,” Michael joked. “As for Colin not calling you Dad, give him time. After all, he has lived almost fifteen years without one. I love you, and in time he will too.”
Michael reached up and brought Jan’s mouth to his. He broke away and whispered, “Amal is going out. He will not be home until late, and Colin said he was staying late at school. So, you see, we have some time for ourselves.”
“Is that an invitation?”
Michael said coyly, “Maybe.”
LATER that evening, Jan found Colin at his computer downloading a page with information about the Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Jerusalem—The Knights Templar.
Their motto: Non Nobis Domine ✠ Non Nobis ✠ Sed Nomini Tuo Da Gloriam stretched diagonally across the web page.
Jan stood behind his son and translated the text aloud, “Not to us oh Lord, Not to us, but to Your Name give glory.”
“What?” Colin said, looking around.
“You were wondering what the Latin meant.”
“How did you know?”
“Everybody does.”
“You know Latin?”
“The school I went to taught it. I must’ve been good at it, because I never forgot it.”
“They don’t offer it at All Souls. Besides, what good is Latin nowadays? Nobody I know is interested in it.”
“I don’t know. It’s kinda fun. As for All Souls not teaching it, they’re Episcopal. Historically, Latin is definitely not their thing.”
“Uh, uh,” Colin muttered, unconvinced as he returned his attention to the Templar website.
Jan wasn’t happy about Colin’s interest in the Templars, since their ancient history was the foundation of Mundus Society. Jan was determined to keep his son far away from Mundus and the very real dangers it posed for its members and loved ones.
“Did you see your report card?” Jan asked. “I left it by your keyboard.”
Colin kept his eyes focused on a page detailing the fabled Templar treasure.
“I did. Thanks.” He answered in a tone that clearly signaled he wanted to end their conversation.
Jan stood still. I wonder if I should push this a little.
Then Colin spoke again. “I didn’t think I’d get an A in geometry. We had to learn how to read a slide rule! I didn’t even know what the thing was when Brother Boniface passed them out!”
Jan chuckled at this.
“I had to learn it too. To tell the truth,” he said, “I never used it after school. I asked Brother Julian about it when I saw it listed as a pass/fail requirement. He told me the reason they teach it is to instill discipline of the mind.”
“I think I’d rather take a beating,” Colin said sourly, his eyes still fixed on his computer.
Jan thought back on Saint Dominic’s Academy and Mother Eileen wielding her brass-plated ruler with obvious glee.
“Oh no, you wouldn’t. Trust me!”
They sat a few minutes while Colin maneuvered though the Templar website.
Damn, I wish he’d find something else to interest him. I suppose it’s too late for “Nanny Watch.” He’d probably find a way around it. What will I say to him if he falls into the thrall of the Templar mystique?
Colin clicked a page tab, and the screen switched to a Templar battle scene. It was the siege of the city of Acre, the Templar’s last stand against Saladin.
“Isn’t there something else you’d rather read than this old stuff?” Jan said.
“Umm, no. I like reading about these guys. Why?”
“No reason.”
Jan’s devil whispered in his ear, You handled that real well. What do you do for an encore, ya dummy?
His angel defended Jan. He’s only trying to protect the boy. Leave him alone, you big bully, or I’ll smack you with a thunderbolt!
Jan decided it was time to change the subject. He took a deep, silent breath.
“I was wondering if you’ve made any more friends at school. You haven’t said much since you started at All Souls, and I was wondering….”
Colin turned in his seat and faced his father. “Everything’s fine. I thought you knew that already.”
Not wishing to sound confrontational, Jan made a conscious effort to soften his tone. “How would I know? You don’t say much. Aside from your grades, I don’t know what’s going on with you at school.”
“I told you before I liked it there. I guess I thought you’d ask Brother Julian if you didn’t believe me,” Colin said.
“I wouldn’t do that! I wouldn’t spy on you.”
“Oh.”
Colin returned to reading the Templar webpage. I hope he doesn’t ask about Zan!
The two sat in silence a while, and then Jan said, “Well?”
“Well what?” Colin said.
“Well, have you made any new friends in school?”
I wonder why he’s asking me this stuff. Why the sudden interest? Take it easy, don’t push back. See what he wants.
“Yeah, I have,” Colin said brightly. “William Tan, he’s Michael’s nephew, but I guess you knew that, and Toby Holcomb, he’s got something wrong with his leg. William said it never grew right. Toby never said anything to me, so I keep quiet about it. And, umm, the girl I met on my first day at school. Remember, I told you about her. Name’s Zan.”
Colin hoped his reference to Zan sounded casual enough, since he wasn’t sure how Jan, being gay, felt about girls in general.
Jan remembered hearing the name, but he thought he had heard it from someone other than Colin. He pulled at his memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Well, that’s great! That’s… that’s… great. So, umm, what would you like as a reward for getting such good grades?”
“I don’t need a reward. I like school.”
“Okay, but I’d like to do something to celebrate, go out to dinner, anything you’d like.”
“I know,” said Colin. “I’d like to go out… I mean if it’s
okay.”
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“Well,” Colin said, biting his lower lip, “I don’t think you understand. I mean… I want to go out with someone else.”
Jan absorbed Colin’s words as they finally registered.
“You mean out on a date?” Jan asked, a little startled.
The idea of his young son out and about on his own in Philadelphia, scared him.
Then, as if reading his father’s mind, Colin said, “Ah, yeah, I turn fifteen next week. Don’t you think I’m old enough to go out?”
Colin was getting nervous. He had seen Jan angry only once, last New Year’s Eve when his Aunt Elaine left him. He never wanted to see his father that angry again.
“Who were you going to ask out on this date?”
“Well… I thought I’d ask Zan. We’ve been hanging out together, and well, I really like her and all.”
Jan looked at his son, trying to get a sense of how important this was to him.
“She’s in the same grade as you, right?”
Here it comes. I’m gonna get grilled, Colin thought.
“Yeah, she’s in most of my classes, and she’s real cool, and I like her, and she likes me too… kinda… I think. I thought since it’s my birthday, I could take her someplace and….”
Jan watched Colin’s face flush deep red.
“Okay, okay. Calm down before you pop a blood vessel!” Jan said, laughing.
Colin sagged into an embarrassed slump.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” Jan said, allowing himself one more giggle before pulling a serious face.
My son has a girlfriend. How about that! Well, this is one part of his life they can’t rob from me.
“So, Colin, how long have you known this girl?”
“Well, I met her the first day at school,” he said sheepishly.
“Wow, fast worker, eh?”
The added remark caused Colin’s scarlet bloom to intensify.
Jan reached out and tousled his hair.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I think I need to know more about her. We should….”
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