I was no longer that simpering, scared-shitless boy, afraid of the dark, who pissed his bed at night or hid in the closet. Buck gave me the tools, along with my brothers, to fight those feelings of weakness I knew as a boy. Never run from your enemy, boy. Look that fucker straight in the eyes and demand your respect. There is strength in you, boy, I can feel it. Now it’s time to show the world. Sitting before me was that enemy he spoke of, and she would give me the answers I came for; she owed me that much. She didn’t know what I was capable of, the man I grew to be. It was time I set the ground rules for this little family reunion.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Mother. Don’t ever fucking call me Maxie again. That person…is dead. You may call me Maxwell or Max, nothing more. Get it?”
I took three menacing steps toward her, fighting the urge to lose my shit and tear that place apart piece by piece. She didn’t so much as flinch at my little outburst and still managed to maintain her bullshit prim and proper demeanor. I continued with my verbal assault standing mere inches from her seated position. I felt powerful standing above her, which was thrilling. The high ground was the best advantage to have in warfare, and that’s exactly what this was…war.
“I want to know why you called my office looking for a publicist. Did you know it was my firm you were calling, or did you just open the phone book one day?”
“Well… Maxwell,” she emphasized my name and cleared her throat. “How could I have possibly known it was your firm? The company name is M. O’Neill’s, not Lancaster. Secondly, I was looking for the best representation available, and your name was at the top of the short list.”
“I appreciate the jerkoff compliment, Mother, but you still haven’t answered my question. Why were you looking to hire me?” Her stalling was pissing me right the fuck off. I was getting nowhere fast trading questions with this woman. She had the audacity to actually smile at me, as she puffed out her chest like a proud peacock. What did she have to be proud of? My accomplishments were mine and mine alone; she had jack shit to do with any of it. The wicked gleam in her eye told me she was calculating something, careful not to give away too much or too little, a skill few had mastered in their lifetime. How many countless others had she used that same smile on before she went in for the kill? I waited impatiently as she contemplated her next move like a chess master during a game before yelling checkmate. What the fuck are you hiding, Mother?
“You really have grown up to be such a handsome young man. You look so much like your father did at your age. It’s uncanny.” She perused my face with a slight frown.
“I wouldn’t know. Now, cut the shit and answer my fucking question.”
“The women must be lined up outside your bedroom door like it’s a Macy’s one-day sale. I don’t see a ring, so you must be single. Tell me, son, do you have a girlfriend?” A joke? I’m trying to salvage what’s left of my life, and this cunt was making jokes? I’d had enough and turned to leave.
“Alright, Mr. Sensitive, keep your shirt on. When I left you that voice mail at your office, I said the matter was…delicate. If I’d known at the time with whom I was speaking, I might have placed a follow-up call. As it stands, we’ve been handling it on our end for some time now.” I didn’t bother to respond. She wasn’t the first person to attempt to ease their way into the situation before dropping the bomb on the real issue. To the minds of the rich, verbalizing their scummy secrets out loud was totally different than whispering them secretly in the dark. It helped them feel better about whatever chaos they caused. Me? I couldn’t care less one way or the other; it never swayed my decision to help them or not.
I waited for the rest.
“The senator’s taken ill. We thought he was going to die, but as luck would have it, he survived. He’s unable to perform his duties in congress, so we’ve had to resort to desperate measures by…covering for him.”
“Covering for him? What the fuck do you mean, covering for him?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been able to learn a few things over the years, including signing my husband’s signature better than he can. The press can be handled as long as you throw them a bone every so often, and the quarterly meetings were handled by the top aide who happens to support my plan one hundred percent.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’ve been forging his signature, hiding the fact that he’s incapable to doing his fucking job, all for what? So you can continue to call yourself a senator’s wife and live in a fucking mansion? Are you crazy?”
“Precisely. I couldn’t have said it better myself. Such a fortuitous turn of events that you decided to return home,” she boasted proudly like the cruel bitch she was. I would never have taken the job even if she’d told me up front what it entailed. What she was doing was illegal. Fraudulently pretending to be a member of congress would land her ass in jail, to which I’d say good riddance. She couldn’t be redeemed. After all these years, she was still as I remembered: a selfish predator. The most I could hope for was the answers to my questions regarding my past so I could once and for all put my fears to rest and finally…live.
“Well…good luck with that, Mother. I’m sure it will all work out in the end.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm in my voice, but I was done with this conversation. A few lingering questions and I was out of there. Fuck this shit.
“I need to know a few things before I leave, Mother. Things about…the past and the person in the shadows. I need you to tell me everything you know so I can move on with my life. It’s time.” I beseeched her to tell me what I needed to know in order to free me from this pain and let me go. She smiled.
“No. I don’t think I will tell you, Maxwell. The family needs your support, and I expect your assistance with this…delicate matter.”
“No? What the fuck do you mean, no? You owe me this!” I screamed directly in her face, but she didn’t even blink.
“Oh, Maxie, how you’ve grown to be such a bright young man. Let me fill you in on a little secret, son.” She leaned into me conspiratorially and whispered, “It’s so good to have you home again…right where you belong.”
HAVEN
Dealing with that asshole outside almost made me late for work. I broke out in a full run and just barely made it on time. Being late for anything was one of my pet peeves in life. I hated people who were habitually late, so disrespectful to all parties involved. Not that this was something I practiced in my personal life. Let’s face it; I didn’t have one. But professionally? It was a deal breaker for me. I had just enough time to waive hello to the evening nurse as she exited the room and grab the senator’s chart to check his vital signs. He was sleeping soundly, so I checked his pulse, temperature, then his oxygen levels. Everything was in order according to the notes; his night had been uneventful, and she’d classified him as stable with no significant changes.
I was busy going about my morning routine until someone entered the room and cleared their throat, which caught my attention. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention and my eye started to twitch before he even said a word. I experienced those exact feelings as a child when my cousin would enter my bedroom, unannounced. Imagine watching a horror movie, in which the theme music starts off low and slow then gradually reaches the crescendo when the monster jumps out of the closet and leaves you powerless to do anything except scream into the pillow you used to cover your eyes. His visits were becoming more frequent; his bold behavior made it difficult to maintain my professionalism. Simply put, I wanted to castrate him with a spoon and watch him bleed out on the floor. Luckily for him, I took an oath. Do no harm and all that, but one could dream.
Jeremy Newell was Senator Lancaster’s top aide and trusted advisor, too young to hold such an esteemed position in my book, but hey, it wasn’t my choice. The day of my interview, he’d insisted on being present so he could ensure I was compatible with the senator’s…needs. His words, not mine. He asked a million and one questions, most of which had fuck all to do with nursing. I nearly w
alked out and probably should have. Everything from my relationship status, my sexual preferences, my thoughts on bigamy, to the overall state of females in the workplace. Quite a few times, I watched as he adjusted his dick while he’d squirmed uncomfortably in his high back chair. Talk about sleazy. Since the day I was hired, he periodically stopped by to check on the senator’s progress, as if he expected a change in the prognosis. We knew from the beginning his health was on the decline; the visits were just an excuse to harass the shit out of me under the guise of concern. I’m sure to the average woman he was attractive, charming, and well bred. To me, he was a class-A creep with stalker tendencies I wouldn’t give the time of day. Sure, he was tall and lean with a swimmer’s physique, and his hair was cut to perfection with just enough product to keep unruly strands in check. The perfect catch for anyone looking to snag a rich husband and live the life of a politician’s wife. I wasn’t one of those women.
“So, how’s our patient doing today?” He sauntered inside the room and tucked both hands into the pockets of his dark suit. It gave him a boyish look, mischievous, like he was about to play a practical joke all in the name of good old-fashioned fun. I knew all too well what he was really doing; he was as subtle as a sledge hammer to the back of the head. Pocket pool was Jeremy’s favorite game to play whenever I was forced to endure these visits. He usually stayed just long enough to get his happy ending then crawled away like the slug he was.
“Senator Lancaster is stable, sir. I was just checking his vital signs,” I absently answered his question without as much as an upward glance in his direction. I had work to do, and if I truly thought he was interested in the senator’s well-being, I would have been paying better attention. Undeterred by my lack of interest, Jeremy boldly walked over and stood in front of me, completely invading my personal space. He had a knack for that sort of behavior, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to ask him to respect my boundaries. I stepped backwards, which only caused him to step forward, which left us right back where we started from. Asshole.
“So, Haven, you’ve been with us for quite some time now. How are you getting along with your caretaking duties?” His minty breath fanned across my face as he spoke. Stay professional, stay professional. I repeated it over and over again in my head until I believed it. I was close to losing my shit and my job along with it; one false move and I was going to snap. He got off on making me flustered; the tiny bead of sweat on his brow was a sign he was close to coming in his pants. I couldn’t play into his hands and give him what he wanted.
“I’m enjoying my time with the senator very much, sir. He is a model patient whenever I’m on duty.” I squared my shoulders and used the clipboard as a shield between his body and mine.
“You know,”—he dipped his face closer and reached for a strand of my hair that had fallen loose from my tight bun and twirled it between his fingers as he licked his lips—“I always wondered what kind of underwear you have on under your uniform.” My stomach fluttered with a sudden onset of nausea from his blatantly inappropriate question when an angry voice from the doorway provided the answer for him.
“I’m leaning towards white cotton, but that’s none of your fucking business, shithead.”
Holy Toledo. It was that asshole who had been passed out on the front steps, and he was now standing side by side in the doorway with Mrs. Lancaster. I’d never been so happy to see an unwanted guest show up in my life. His sudden appearance made Jeremy the pervert step back and gather his wits, a move I was eternally grateful for. His departure from my airspace gave me time to take a few deep breaths I hadn’t realized I was holding and plaster my fake hospital smile back in its place. The stranger took three angry steps inside and stood toe to toe with Jeremy the perv.
“Hello, Antonia, I was just… checking in with the nurse, making sure all was well,” Jeremy simpered just like a weasel. He stuck out his hand in greeting, a bitch-ass attempt at skirting around the fact he’d been caught making sexual advances toward me.
“Jeremy Newell…And you are?” The stranger looked down at this outstretched hand like it had shit on it, and instead of shaking, he folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes in disgust. Take that, ass bucket.
“Jeremy Newell, meet my son, Maxie. He’s just returned from boarding school. Maxie, this is Jeremy Newell, the senator’s top advisor and trusted aide. Jeremy’s been with us for several years and is an invaluable member of the team. I’m sure you’ll both be great friends.”
Mrs. Lancaster moved in closer to Jeremy and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder as she addressed… Maxie? She was smiling in his direction, but it didn’t reach her eyes, totally fake put on. She was challenging them in some way, for power? Attention? How odd it felt to bear witness to such a drastic change in this woman. I found her to be a whirlwind of boundless energy, always put together and in control of everything. She ran this household with poise and grace, never once raising her voice or talking down to the many servants that were in her employ. The woman standing before me was different, cunning and crafty, with intent to do harm; it was in her eyes and body language. I recognized it well from my own experience. She wasn’t the person I’d grown to respect and hoped to emulate one day; she had an agenda, and those two played a role in it. Whatever game she was up to, Maxie wasn’t going for it.
“Yeah. What the fuck ever,” he scoffed, then turned his back on the both of them.
“Well, Jeremy, I need to see you in my office. I’m sure Maxie would like to spend some time with the senator, and I could use your help on some business matters. Maxie, I take it you still remember how to find your room? Excellent. Lunch will be served at twelve sharp in the solarium, and I expect to see you then.” She didn’t wait for an answer to any of her questions; with one theatrical wave of her hand, she rushed out the door with Jeremy hot on her trail like a fucking lap dog. Great. Now what should I do? Continue working as if nothing happened? Introduce myself, since Mrs. Lancaster didn’t seem fit to do so herself? Thank him for coming to my rescue?
“What happened to him?” His back was still turned, but his question was clear. He wanted my professional opinion and nothing else. Problem solved. Time to put the bullshit in my rear view and get back to doing what I was hired for.
“The senator suffered a stroke about a year ago,” I answered calmly.
“A fucking year?” He turned, completely baffled. “What else?” He wanted all of it, so I gave it to him straight.
“He’s completely paralyzed on the entire left side with limited mobility on the right. His motor skills are non-existent, and he no longer has the power of speech. His vitals are stable. However, his health is on the decline and death is…imminent.” My responses were harsh, but somehow, I didn’t get the feeling that Maxie was the sort of man who liked a bunch of bullshit handed to him. Half measures and double talk would only serve as a buffer from reality. He needed to hear the truth. Once it was finally out, I expected some sort of emotion from him, sadness, anger, confusion, but he gave away nothing. His expression remained blank. Maybe it was all too much to take in at one time. Maybe I overstepped. I needed to make sure he was alright with the information that was given to him or if he had any questions of his own.
“Are you…okay with everything I just told you?” Why did I feel the need to comfort him?
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He was so flip and cavalier about it, perhaps he was in shock.
“It’s not every day you learn that your father is dying. I would be happy to answer any questions you may have.” At that he chucked; it was hollow and completely artificial.
“Father? I hardly knew the man.”
He walked out without looking back. So much for wanting to visit with the senator. I didn’t quite know what to make of this man, the prodigal son returning from his time at boarding school? Not likely, considering he was at least in his late twenties from what I could tell. No, that man was something else, something completely different from th
e others. Fortunately, he wasn’t my puzzle to solve. I had better things to do with my time.
MAXWELL
I ran outta that house like the devil himself was chasing me. It was all too much, shit piled on top of more shit. This wasn’t why I’d come here; it wasn’t my fucking problem. I felt so trapped, the walls closing in on me from all angles; no matter where I turned, I was fucked. I drove around for hours until I found a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, pulled over, then completely lost my shit. I yelled, screamed, punched my dashboard until the plastic gave way and split into pieces. The jagged edges sliced straight through my hand and left behind uneven gashes on my knuckles. Blood trickled down my arm in waves of crimson, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the pain, like an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. I stared down at my mangled hand and remembered the last time I’d seen so much blood there, blood that wasn’t my own but that of the shadow, and I remembered that feeling of freedom.
The night I’d arrived at Buck’s junkyard, I wasn’t sure he would remember the young boy he met during his visit to the mansion. It had been five years since he’d spoken to me outside that office and gifted me with a small pocketknife that I held in my hand covered with blood. He wanted me to repeat his name so I could find him when the time came. He must have known about the secrets in that mansion and somehow it persuaded him to give me a weapon to protect myself against the evil. Small enough to hide yet strong enough to get the job done when I had to use it. I never forgot his name, or the way he asked me to repeat it. When I was lonely, I would write it over and over on a piece of paper until my hand ached and I could no longer hold the pen between my fingers. Then I took those pages of written names and burned them until they were ash; they were my secret to hide.
Salvaging Max Page 4