by Sable Hunter
Alivia held her ground. “Violet and I went to see Shrek.”
“Are you sure about that?” Bruce asked, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.
Alivia responded defiantly. “Yes.”
“So, Violet was lying when she told her mother that you two went to see Tomb Raider yesterday instead of Shrek? Despite me forbidding you to see that movie?” The smirk Bruce wore told Alivia he knew he had her in his trap.
Damn!
Jennifer looked at her boyfriend, then her daughter. “What is he talking about, Alivia?” When Alivia didn’t respond, she turned to Bruce. “What’s the meaning of this, Bruce?”
Bruce was always so smug when he was right, and he leered at Alivia while he spoke, “It seems your daughter defied my orders. She and her little friend went to see Tomb Raider yesterday instead of Shrek like she told us she was going to do.” Alivia averted her gaze. “That’s right, little Miss Liar. Violet’s mother just called and told me everything. Apparently, this was all your idea.”
“Is this true, Alivia?” her mother asked with a look of disappointment on her face.
“Yes.” Alivia sighed, still looking out the window.
“I told you, Jen. She never listens. This rebelliousness has got to stop. She needs to be punished this time.”
Alivia turned to face him, defiance on her face. “You’re not the boss of me, and there wasn’t anything wrong with me going to see the movie!”
“I’m the boss of you as long as you live in this house!” He stepped close to Alivia and clasped his hands into fists.
“Don’t you mean as long as you live in this house?” She glanced at her mother for support, thinking this would be a perfect time to send him packing. When Jennifer Hart turned her head, and looked at the floor, Alivia’s heart sank. She wouldn’t be getting any support from her mother. Still, she refused to back down. “The motion picture rating board thinks it’s fine for me to see it, Bruce, so I did. Unless of course, you know more than they do.”
“You think you always have your bases covered, don’t you, Alivia?”
The expression in Bruce’s eyes made Alivia nervous. She didn’t trust him. At night, Alivia kept her door locked. The man made her skin crawl, and she didn’t really understand why. Seeing that her mother wouldn’t stand up for her, she backed down. Refusing to give Bruce power, she directed her apology to her mother. “I didn’t mean any harm, Mom. I knew the movie would inspire me. I want to do something meaningful in my life like Lara Croft.”
Bruce shook his head in disgust. “You think you’re smart, and you might be, but you live with your head in the clouds. You’re going to learn that this world doesn’t reward dreamers.”
“Bruce, that’s enough!” Jennifer snapped.
“No, Jen. Enough is enough.” He stepped over to Alivia’s bed. “It’s time she understood the truth. People like us don’t ever get ahead in this world, Alivia. We’re middle-class people and we never become more, so you might as well stop fantasizing nonsense and grow up.”
Bruce raised his arm in the air and Alivia flinched, thinking he was about to strike her. “I’m not like you, and I never want to be like you!” Alivia yelled, a feeling of helplessness washing over her.
“Bruce! Stop!” Jen grabbed him by the shoulder.
Bruce’s eyes flashed with anger, his eyes roving around the room, as if he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found fault with something else. His eyes lit on her desk, and he smiled. “What were you doing on your computer? Are you hiding something from your mother?” He turned on the monitor, then opened the drawer where she’d stuffed her papers, pulling them out and throwing them on the desktop.
“Get out of here!” Alivia grasped at his shirt, trying her best to yank him away from her space.
“What is all this mess? Looks like Greek to me.”
“Well, it’s not, this is a computer language. I’m learning to programme, Bruce. A whole world you’ll never understand.”
“Are you saying I’m stupid?”
He grabbed her by the shoulder, his fingers pinching so hard Alivia winced. “Do I have to say it?” she asked defiantly.
“You think you’re so smart, you little twit!” He swept her beloved computer off the desk with one fell swoop. The keyboard and monitor hung precariously by their cables.
“You’ll break it! Don’t!” she screamed as he leafed through the papers covered with notes, wrinkling them in the process. “No! Those are mine. Give them back!”
Jennifer did her best to intervene, but Bruce pushed her away. “This is all crap, Alivia! Who do you think you are? You’ll never amount to anything!” He picked up a stuffed unicorn and jammed it into her chest. “Why don’t you play with your stuffed animals like girls are supposed to?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she clutched the precious unicorn, the toy was the last thing her father had ever given her. “My dad told me I could be anything I wanted to be!”
“Your dad was a no-count dreamer. He kept his head in the clouds and what happened? He stepped in front of a damn bus!” Bruce shook the papers. “This stuff,” He yanked the unicorn from her grasp, “Is as fake as this dumb toy.” Savagely, he began to tear the pages to shreds in front of Alivia’s eyes. “You’ll never be anything but a troublemaker, Alivia! Nothing!”
“That’s enough, Bruce. Out!” Jennifer herded her boyfriend from the room before going to her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t cry.”
“I don’t like your boyfriend,” Alivia seethed. “I don’t like any of your boyfriends, but this one is the worst. He gives me the creeps.”
“I wish you would try to get along with him, Alivia. He helps out so much around here.”
Alivia knew she meant with money. “You could do better. He’s mean.”
“He does have a temper, but we all have our faults. You lied about where you were and what you were doing.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Sometimes, I just feel…caged.” Alivia leaned on her mother, hugging her. “Why did Bruce say those things, Mama? Dad was a good man, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was, pumpkin.” She pushed the little girl’s hair off her tearstained cheeks. “I’m sure he would’ve accomplished many great things…”
“If he would’ve lived,” Alivia finished her mother’s sentence in a still, small voice.
“Yea, if only he could’ve handled disappointment.” With a sigh, Jennifer Hart kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I just don’t want to see you waste your life chasing dreams the way he did. The topics you’re so interested in, those are fields where men succeed. Video games and computer programming, all that stuff is more for boys. Girls do better in other fields.”
Alivia pushed away and threw herself on the bed, turning away from her pessimistic mother. I’ll show them, Alivia thought to herself as she stared at the wall, crying. I can be anything I want to be. Just wait and see.
CHAPTER TWO
“Come to papa.” Saxon William Abbott smirked and chuckled as he clicked a few keys, enabling his avatar to wield a broadsword over his head to smash down on an unsuspecting ogre. “Gotcha! Ha!” With a smile of triumph, he leaned back in his leather swivel chair and tapped the remnants of a bag of Skittles into his mouth. “That’ll teach you to mess with the boss.” Picking up a can of Red Bull, he raised it in a toast, then took a big sip, mixing the two sweet concoctions on his tongue. “Food of the gods.” He smacked his lips, then returned the drink to the coaster that protected his spiffy new desk.
He’d been sitting for the last four hours, watching three separate monitors on the large bank of screens he’d set up in the media room of his new house. His cut of Jet Foster’s big score from the San Miguel recovery mission afforded him the means to buy his dream car and to settle down in a thirty-five hundred square foot home just outside of Austin in Pflugerville, Texas. He was damn lucky to have good friends like Jet and the other Equalizers.
Having just wrapped up a security contract the nigh
t before, Saxon figured he’d earned some downtime. Most people would jump in their car for a road trip or hop a plane for some tropical isle. While relaxing on a beach with a drink in hand didn’t totally suck, he knew what he enjoyed, and he wasn’t ashamed to pursue his passion. To put it bluntly, Saxon got off on the thrill of the chase, he relished tracking down clues and solving mysteries by manipulating online connections that few people understood, much less traversed with ease. He might not be a sniper like Destry, or a demolitions expert like Jet, but he could battle foes in his own way.
Six twenty-nine-inch monitors made-up the wall of Saxon’s media room. He remembered Micah scoffing when he’d told him how much his high-tech wall cost, but Micah scoffed at everything. He’d been busting Saxon’s balls since they were kids, that was just what Micah did. Saxon spent a large chunk of his life at a computer monitor, his eyes darting back and forth across a screen and no matter what Micah or anyone else thought, he knew what he’d spent on the Ultra 4K screens was well worth the extra money. “My peers just misunderstood me,” he muttered with a sigh.
Even between assignments, Saxon never fully unplugged. Designing video games wasn’t his only focus, he also did consulting work for anyone who needed a cyber miracle or two. He could wield a computer with more deadly precision than any sword ever forged. Fighting crime via the world wide web was his specialty, and no one was better at it than he.
Since he wasn’t officially working tonight, three of the six screens were turned off. On one screen, Saxon’s avatar, Jak Kage, strolled the imaginary world that had existed in his imagination since he was a child. Saxon’s Conquest was his baby, he’d worked on it since he was a kid, and he’d finally seen his dream come to life five years ago. The roleplaying game had quickly found a cult audience, and he’d earned enough from the release and subsequent sales to give his parents the life he’d always wanted them to have. For his part, there was nothing he liked better than losing himself for a few hours in the world he’d created.
After dispatching the ogre, he transitioned to administrator mode. Seeing nothing of great interest going on in his realm, Saxon’s attention moved to the second monitor. On this screen, green numbers flowed like water in never-ending columns as a program he’d written tabulated and re-tabulated figures. He was more than happy to take a crooked companies money for access to their inner workings and even happier to bust them if he found evidence of wrongdoing. He’d been commissioned to perform a routine audit of banking behemoth, Lautrec Global, to fulfill an audit requirement to appease their insurance carrier. While he was delving through their records, he sensed something amiss, a possible record-breaking scam being perpetrated by the huge financial institution. After completing the necessary scans and traces, Saxon signed off on the original investigation, but he couldn’t shake the hunch something major was hiding just out of reach.
Refusing to stop watching or looking, he was exploring further, manipulating data and adjusting algorithms. If his suspicions were correct, a consortium of bank employees was opening accounts in people’s names, enrolling them in products and services without their consent, and charging them fees for these transactions. Since the amount, per customer, was fairly small each month and was automatically deducted from their accounts, Lautrec’s scam could have been going on for years, amounting to millions and millions of dollars being stolen from their loyal customers.
As he gazed at the streaming data in front of him, he smiled. His next move would be a phone call to a friend in the FBI. Thankfully, this contact understood how he worked and would accept the information without questioning how he’d come by it. If he were right about his suspicions, he’d be bringing down an evil giant.
Yes, he divided his life between a fantasy world and reality – and sometimes the lines blurred. When he came across a wrong he could right, he didn’t rest until he dosed out his own form of justice. The internet was still the wild west, and Saxon considered himself to be not only a hired gun but an avenging angel when he needed to be. In this case, a hero on a quest that might prove to be bigger than he ever imagined. All in all, Saxon felt good about the way he used his talents.
The group, Anonymous, had approached him several times to join their ranks, but he felt them to be a bit too hardcore for his taste. Between the games he created, the consulting he did in cyber-forensics, and his work with the Equalizers, his plate was full.
Right now, his eyes flitted to the last of the three monitors where an intense scene was playing out. Seven-year-old Deanna Troy had gone missing from her home earlier in the day, and Saxon was monitoring developments in the case. He hadn’t received an official call from the Equalizers fierce leader, Governor Kyle Chancellor, to join the investigation, but he planned on monitoring the situation just in case he was called in to help.
After checking a few places online where pedophiles were known to congregate and finding nothing, he was relieved. Hopefully, this story would have a happy ending and the little girl would turn up unharmed.
Yawning, he stretched, raising his arms over his head. “God, I’m getting old and stiff.” Tilting his body to one side, the Deadpool shirt he wore slid up to reveal the tight lines of his abs. Skittles might be his drug of choice when working at his computer, but that didn’t mean Saxon was unaware or complacent about the effects the treat could have on his body. Staying in tip-top shape was smart, not only for general health purpose, but he was an Equalizer, and the elite faction wasn’t a place for cream puffs, despite Micah’s best attempts to fatten the team up for his own amusement.
Pushing to his feet, he wandered to the window and looked down into the street. “Man, this neighborhood is quiet.” He hadn’t met any of his neighbors. “Which is why I’m talking to myself like a nut-house reject.” For the first few weeks, people had stopped by all the time. Not folks from the neighborhood, his visitors had been prospective home buyers. Since his new house was a former model home, located in a row of model homes, he’d had people stopping by all the time. They hadn’t bothered to knock, thinking they could walk right in, like they would if it was a model home. When he remembered to lock the door, the prospective real estate buyers would just grab the handle and shake hard, making the wrought iron scrollwork clank in protest. When he didn’t remember to lock the door, strangers just wandered in.
One day he’d almost made an unscheduled trip to meet his maker when a woman had walked in on Saxon as he stepped out of the shower. He’d scrambled for a towel while she just stood there, a slow grin coming to her broad midwestern face. I’ve heard these fancy, new homes come with all the perks, but you’re a sweet surprise, man-candy. Right after this unexpected visit, he’d bought a small wooden plaque for the front that read, PRIVATE RESIDENCE. This declaration of ownership had lessened the number of uninvited callers to a significant degree, but some still came and yanked on the door, their eyes not even focusing on the clear warning in front of them. Some people were like that though; they couldn’t read the signs pointing the way, even if they’re stuck right in their face.
Saxon hoped he didn’t fall into that category.
The streetlamps were just coming on in the sleepy bedroom community, and he considered a jog to work off the empty calories he’d consumed. “Screw it,” he muttered, sliding back down into his chair. “I’ll run later. I’ve got stuff to do.” Leaning closer to the monitor displaying the Lautrec data, he blinked. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his face. “Man, my eyes are blurring like crazy.”
“Seeing you wear those glasses always strikes me as funny. How do women respond to them? Do they go for the sexy male librarian look?”’
Saxon jerked in his chair. “Damn, Cartwright, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” Spinning around, he caught sight of Destry, wearing his signature pin-striped suit, as he took a seat on one of the big comfy couches in the raised seating area arranged around a huge flat screen television and a wet bar.
“Yea, poor vision runs in my family.” Saxon
took the glasses off and studied them. “Around the age of thirty, all the Abbots need them.” He’d put off the inevitable for as long as he could, but the long hours at a computer screen and heredity caught up with him. “Reading glasses, I’ve been wearing them for the last year, only when necessary.” He smirked, remembering that Micah kept hounding him to get a better pair. “Vain, I guess.”
“Glasses can be an accessory you know, Sax. They make some wild looking spectacles. You don’t have to look like a nerd.”
“I have no desire to mimic Elton John. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, counselor?” Saxon asked, his attention already turned back to his screens.
Saxon’s front door was always open to his friends. He’d handed each Equalizer a key to his home at the housewarming party, and they were free to come and go as needed. He was often away on business and even when he was home, he could mostly be found right where he was seated now, and they all knew it.
My computers are my wife and kids, he’d told Jet in response to a jab from Tyson at the housewarming party.
Yea, until I met Sami, that’s what I used to say about my boat and motorcycle, Jet had reminded him.
Saxon enjoyed his bachelor life, but not long after moving into this big house, he began to feel just how large and empty the place seemed all on his own. Several times, he’d had a woman over for the night, but none of his flings ever lasted more than a day or two. One girl had actually laughed and walked off when Saxon proudly showed her his impressive collection of gaming consoles. He owned one of every model in existence, all in mint condition.
“What did I come for?” Destry opened the briefcase on the coffee table in front of him and started to take a few folders out. “What else? Work.”
“Government business or Equalizer business?” Destry was a former Supreme Court clerk, and he now served as Kyle’s Secretary of State. “Whichever, I’m at your service.”