Some days I feel like inflicting so much pain on those that have wronged my family, that have wronged me. I feel like exerting vengeance on them all, reigning down fire on them so hard, till their worlds are destroyed. To nothing.
I remember my grandparents would take me to church when I was a boy. The priest would say that vengeance is for the Lord’s and that us as his children need to forgive one another and leave in harmony.
How? I remember sitting there wondering.
How do we forgive, forget and leave in harmony with people that are hell bent on destroying us?
How do we go forward with our lives from there? How do we reconcile the loss of life with the will of God?
A God we have never seen?
After church I would ask my grandfather what the priest meant.
“He meant just that. When we don’t forgive, the anger and hurt rots our hearts and souls faster than the actual injury” He would explain in his wise voice.
I remember the way he would take a deep breath right before he said that, as if the words themselves are a pain to say.
As if he doesn’t believe them.
“Do you do that Grandpa? Do you forgive those that hurt you?” I would ask, I desperately wanted to know. Because Tom from school was always saying bad things about my family and I just wanted to know if I should just let it go.
“I do.” Comes his short and curt answer.
At this point he seems far away as he stares off into the distance. Lost in a memory. A tough, painful memory. His jaw is clenched, his eyes hard.
“When do you do it Grandpa?”
He looks down at me and this time his gaze doesn’t waver away from me.
“When do you know to forgive and forget?” I would ask him again.
He stares at me like I am a man, like I’m not the little boy that my parents see when they look at me. He looks at me like that at times and it scares the hell out of me each time. Like now.
He looks at me like he is expecting something of me, I wonder if he will tell me what it is that he expects from me.
“Gideon, where does your name come from?” He would ask seriously.
It’s just Grandpa and me in the car. Grandma dashed into the store to get some fresh oregano seasoning for after church lunch. We are parked outside.
I peck up and straighten, proud to answer his question because my parents and grandparents always tell me this.
“It comes from the Holy Book” I proudly declare. It’s not many people that have their names from the Bible, but I do. So does my grandpa. His name is Samuel.
“And what does it mean?” he looks serious, as if these questions lead somewhere.
“It means Destroyer.” I say, an eyebrow raised. I wonder if I got it correct, I wasn’t so sure.
He looks down at me, with all his majesty. Grandpa was a very powerful man, very important too. I wonder what he thinks of me. I never want to disappoint him or antagonize him in anyway.
“Yes. Your name is strong, it’s powerful. God told Gideon in the Bible that he was a Mighty Man of Valor. Do you know what that means?”
This one, I don’t know. I have never heard of it but I’m afraid if I shake my head and tell him that I don’t know, then he would not be happy with me. But if there is one thing grandpa hates, it’s lying to him.
For some reason, he always seems to be able to know when someone is lying to him. I look down at my shoes, disappointed in myself for not having the answer that grandpa needs.
“No. I don’t know.” I say in a small voice.
I have never liked to give Grandpa a negative answer, I always want him to know that I am aware of my surroundings and what is happening in society and the rest of the world.
Grandpa always said that ‘Knowledge is power.’
“That’s alright.” Grandpa says and I look up at him so fast, I make myself slightly dizzy from the movement.
“I’ll tell you what it means.” He smiles at me and out the window I notice that Grandma is coming back.
She doesn’t like it whenever Grandpa tells me something about the company or any other ‘mature’ talk with him. She always says that I am not the right age to be having these talks with Grandpa, that he should let me be my age.
But I have never felt like I am my age.
I don’t always fit in with the other boys from school.
What they do is just so... childish. I can never be childish. I am the heir to the throne. Heirs don’t behave childishly, and I don’t want Grandma to take this away from me.
“Grandma is coming Grandpa. Please hurry up!” I say with alarm. Whatever information I could glean from this wise man, I want it all before someone tries to stop it.
He chuckles in that rich, cultured voice of his.
“Calm down, Gideon. There is plenty of time to tell you everything you need to know.”
But he never told me. Just before I was about to beg him, the driver opens the backdoor for Grandma and I clam my mouth shut. No way do I want any trouble today.
I knew If I got in trouble with Grandma, then I will receive a double dose punishment with my parents. I was under strict instructions not to give my grandparents trouble. Any kind of trouble. And I really wanted to play with my new video game. So, no trouble from me. Not today.
As the car gets in motion, I glance at Grandpa and he seems to be thinking once again. Thinking hard.
Suddenly, he turns and catches me staring at him.
I panic, thinking that he is going to tell me that staring at people is bad, like my mother always says. But he just winks at me. Then he turns back to look outside the window, as if the little moment between us never happened.
THAT LITTLE WINK THOUGH, that wink sealed the notion for me that my grandfather was the man. That he knew everything, that he was a powerful man and nobody in the world can touch him.
Now, it’s been years later. I am a man now, no longer a boy. I am qualified now to have those conversations that grandma didn’t want me to have.
I now know the meaning of my name and what God was telling Gideon in the Bible.
I now know that sometimes forgiveness should be given to those that actually want it, to those that need it.
I also know now that I won’t be catching any wink from my Grandpa.
I look at him now, his eyes are closed. With tubes wrapped all over his body, machines everywhere, beeping with different information. He can’t breathe on his own, there is a tube that covers his mouth and nose.
His body is small and frail, so much different from the mighty, strong and large man that everyone was afraid of when I was growing up.
I don’t know if I’ll ever hear a word of knowledge from him again.
I wonder if I’ll ever see those wise eyes of his. Eyes the same shade as mine.
I wonder if I’ll ever tell him what I know now. I wonder if he even wants to know.
“Mr. Black good afternoon”
I’m dragged out of my musings and memories when someone comes through the door. I look up and notice it’s the doctor, the very one who has been attending to my grandfather since the accident a year and a half ago. And prime years before.
“Good afternoon, doctor.” I say.
I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping at all. There is so much to do, so many fires to put out and a man who angers me like nothing else still out there going about his life as if he didn’t wreck havoc in mine. Making me thirst for blood in a way I have never before felt in my life.
I wonder if Gideon in the Bible felt the same way as I’m feeling.
I wonder if Gideon in the Bible was able to just stand there and watch his people suffer and die at the hands of their enemies.
“How is he doing today?” I ask my routine question.
Every time I come here, and I come here three times a week like clockwork, the response is always the same.
“No major change as of yet, but his vitals are stronger this week than they have been last week. That is a
step in the right direction.” Doctor Brown says, his sharp intelligent eyes assessing my grandfather as he holds out a light to my grandfather’s eyelids.
A normal, rotational checkup.
“Doctor that’s great and all but when is he going to wake up?” I demand.
I’m frustrated. I need my grandfather back, he will know what to do about all of this mess that we are in.
I have so much on my plate right now I can’t seem to be able to breath. Then there is her.
“Mr. Black, as I have been explaining all these months, there is no actual way of knowing when your grandfather will wake from his coma. After all, this is a self-induced coma. Which means the body shut itself down in order to do its own repair work.” He patiently explains while removing his latex gloves and types something down on his tablet.
“Yes, but it’s been thirteen, almost fourteen months now. I say that’s enough time for the body to heal.”
I can’t remain seated anymore, too feeling much too agitated. Why can’t the great Samuel Black get up from this self-induced coma? I know he has gone through a lot of trauma, but I’m under fire out here.
I need him back.
Being here with him, I am able to show my true emotions. This is the only place I am able to show just how frustrated I am. When I leave this private hospital, I have to be Gideon Black, the President and CEO of Black House Inc. A composed and strong leader with aces up my sleeve.
No way can the world know that without my grandfather with me, I feel lost. No one can see the vulnerable side, the tired side.
Apart from her.
“I understand that this is a stressful time for you and your family Gideon, but there really is no magic formula for calculating how long a person can be in a coma. Some people get up after two weeks, others three years.” Doctor Brown explains with a bit of sympathy in his eyes.
He has been my grandfather’s personal doctor for years and they are good friends. I wonder if he misses his friend as much as I miss my own friend.
“So, what are you saying?” I ask, trying to mentally count to twelve, so that I let go of the anger boiling within me.
“I think we should just be patient and wait. Your grandfather is strong Gideon, you know that. He will make a strong come back at a time that no one expects it”
I turn back and look at my grandfather, in his luxury bed.
It’s not a typical hospital bed, no. Only the best and finest for the great Samuel Black. It’s some kind of executive suite. They don’t even call them hospital rooms, they refer to them as suites.
As if this is a holiday resort and my grandfather is on some kind of holiday.
The only thing wrong with that is he never liked going on vacation for a long time or alone. Now, he has been gone for over a year now, and he is alone. Grandma is gone.
“Thank you, Doc” I say, my voice low and strong as I intended it to be.
I was hoping that if I come here, I will get some kind of positive feedback, that when I leave, I’ll go with some kind of war plan for this war we are in.
That the great Samuel Black would give me ideas. That he would at least open his eyes or squeeze my hand to let me know that he is still here. Still with me.
He doesn’t do any of that.
When the doctor leaves the large airy room with white walls, I sit down in the comfortable chair facing my grandfather once more. The one I always sit in whenever I visit.
I sit there and look at him for maybe an hour.
My mind racing with everything I want to tell him and details that I don’t want him to know.
I don’t want him to know that his friend has been scheming money from the company, but I want him to know we made a breakthrough in our relationship with China.
I want to tell him that we are doing amazingly well in the other divisions of Black House Inc. But no matter how hard I try to keep my mind on track concerning work, there is still one beautiful, haunting face that lingers at the fore front and at the back of my mind.
With haunting, sad gray eyes that she hides from the world, and a tongue that drips with fire.
I wonder if I should let Grandpa know that I found her. That I found his friend’s granddaughter.
But what would I say?
Can I tell him that I am using her to go forward with the plan I have for Stefan Demetri?
Would he believe me if I told him that everything just set itself out without much effort from me?
That she already planted herself in the Demetri camp in order to destroy our common enemy.
That she is fire personified.
That the very existence of her affects me in a way no person in this world has been able to.
I don’t think Grandpa would be thrilled to hear that I am slightly distracted right now. Not after what happened the last time I allowed a woman to get close to me.
My phone vibrates in my pockets, jarring me out of my more than a bit racy thoughts.
I take the offending thing out my pocket and notice it’s a message from Max.
MAX: YOU HAVE TO GET BACK. SEARCH NOT LOOKING GOOD.
ME: WHAT’S HAPPENING?
MAX: LAWRENCE HARVEY AND THAT PIG.
Just like that, I’m thrust back into reality. So much to do and so little time to do it. My phone vibrates again with two more messages. It’s Max again.
MAX: FBI LOOKING FOR YOU
MAX: SHE ALSO LOST HER SECURITY DETAIL...
Shit!
Chapter 18
Chloe
IT’S BEEN ALMOST THREE weeks since the dinner with the Martin family.
Three weeks since my boss went on another trip to Chicago and came back a different man.
Three weeks of planning, strategizing. Plotting and scheming.
There has been something different happening with Stefan Demetri since he came back from Chicago. No longer is he drinking in the early hours of the morning, looking dejected like a sulking kid who has just been denied candy or to play outside.
No.
His arrogance is back, and it’s back a hundredfold. He is much more confident than I’ve ever seen him in all the years I’ve worked for him or before when I spent my free time researching him.
He came back with a sleek, evil gleam in his eyes like he knows something that the rest of the world doesn’t know.
Almost like his trip to Chicago gave him the best news of his life. At this point I know that any good news to Stefan means a really tragic outcome to the rest of us.
Another difference in his demeanour is in the way he loves the press.
I mean he did love them before, whenever they were reporting ‘positive’ things about him. Like how he gives to the less privileged members of society or how he donates to countless charities in NYC.
Now though, now he loves them with a kind of sick sinister, pre-meditated fascination that makes me want to hurl the contents of my lunch.
When he came back, he announced to the world that he is hosting the biggest social event that New York City has ever seen. He claims it’s going to be one for the books and anyone who is anyone is going to be there.
And now, three weeks later, we are running around like headless chickens to make sure this event happens.
I swear, he must be announcing his bid to run for Mayor at this gala. He is sparing no expense towards this event, going above and beyond what his stinginess is usually comfortable with.
He has also dragged his wife through public appearances. His miserable wife who holds herself with stiffness and fake masks whenever they are in public.
I have no doubt in my mind that he is forcing her to do what he wants, to appear like a loving husband and uncle to his sister’s children, when he has his own illegitimate children that he is trying to hide from the world.
“I don’t care what has to be done, you just make sure all the people on the list are there on that night!”
I’m standing before him, in his office that smells like cigar smoke and liquor. The
muskiness makes me want to choke each time I come in his office but I control my disgust.
“But sir, there are some guests that haven’t confirmed their attendance yet. Should we wait for their response?” I ask, but really, I don’t care.
All I know is he is aiming at political figures, strong, politically prominent figures. He desperately wants them to attend this gala of his, most likely to wine them, dine them, work them to a pulp of corruption, then exploit them.
“If their name doesn’t have a star next to it, then I don’t give a shit. Just make sure everyone else is there.”
He huffs out like a damn choking bastard. I guess those lungs are beginning to show signs of over-use.
“Yes sir.” I say, looking down at my tablet.
“Has Lawrence Harvey confirmed?” He asks as he looks up at me, his face turning slightly red when I shake my head.
“That damn asshole. I swear he must be parading in my face, acting like he is better than me. I hope for his sake that he is there, or else.” I don’t think he wanted me to hear the last part since he mutters it under his breath.
Just three weeks ago, Stefan Demetri didn’t want to hear the name Lawrence Harvey, especially when he came back from D.C. And now since coming back from Chicago, he doesn’t care.
He acts as if he is on top of the world. As if he already won the most powerful office in the most powerful state.
I shudder to think what he must be cooking up in that beady head of his. I want to dash back into my office and call Gideon or better yet wait for Fred and John to take me to him after work.
But I refrain from making any outward movement, schooling my face into the best poker face that I mustered in all my years of working for this vile man.
“Should I call his office again?” I ask, not that I actually want to help him reach a wonderful man like Lawrence Harvey, from what Charles told me, I just want to seem helpful.
I don’t want him to be suspicious of anything going on right in front of him. If only he knew how much havoc is coming his way, he won’t be gloating and walking around like he has a damn thick stick up his ass.
The Billion Dollar Plan: Incongruity Series Book 1 Page 13