by Glenn Dier
“No,” said Sebastian without hesitating.
“Do you know anything about it at all?”
“No.”
Seconds of silence passed. Sebastian knew the trick; he had used it many times himself. Nature abhors a vacuum. The interviewer offers quiet; the interviewee fills in the blanks. But not this time. Sebastian refused to speak the unspeakable.
“Are we finished?” he asked. “I have a story to get ready for the show. There was a unanimous, all-party resolution in the legislature today condemning the CBC. Funny how the man who caused this predicament isn’t here, but I am.”
“I’d better not find out that you lied to me, Sebastian,” threatened Alicia.
“You’re accusing me of lying?”
“No, but now is the time to come clean if you know anything.”
“I’ve told you I had nothing to do with it. May I suggest you deal with the real troublemaker and not chase ghosts.”
Percival’s head snapped. “Ghosts, right.”
Sebastian ambled out of the office. He listened to the radio broadcast piped into the hallway.
Now, the National Research Council time signal. The beginning of the long dash, following ten seconds of silence, indicates exactly…, “The moment Sebastian Hunter told them to shove it.”
•
The woman strolled along the publicity photos hanging in the lobby. She paused by Ethan Tremblay. Happy and dashing, and the only Ethan Tremblay in the building at that moment. The real one had vanished into the airwaves.
Sebastian recognized her red hair. The same flaming hair which had tingled him in bed.
“Take a good look. I don’t expect he’ll be there much longer.”
She spun around. “Sebastian.” There was pleasure in her voice.
Sebastian stayed back, making a hug ungainly and impractical. “Hi Lindsay.”
Lindsay closed the gap, but made no effort to wrap her arms around him. “Will you be hanging there next?”
“I’ll either be hanging on picture hooks or swinging from a rope.”
“Still making enemies, I see. Perhaps you could fill me in.”
“The timing isn’t good, Lindsay. I’ve got a real busy day. How about I text you when I see my way clear.”
“I’m still waiting for the last text you promised.”
Sebastian glanced at the receptionist. Joanie had surveillance skills the envy of the CIA. She licked an envelope and appeared not to be paying attention, but Sebastian was certain it was a hoax. He motioned for Lindsay to follow him away from the front desk.
“Lindsay, this is awkward,” he said in a tempered voice. “I’m engaged. I’m getting married in the fall. My fiancée is the jealous type.”
“Funny how you didn’t think of that in Paradise Point.”
“Roxanne and I were going through a difficult patch, but we’ve sorted things out since then.” His voice was gentle, but his stance was cold.
Sebastian shut up with the sound of approaching footsteps. Janice walked through the lobby on her way to the canteen. She stripped Lindsay naked with a lateral leer. She left Sebastian to put the poor woman’s clothes back on.
“I feel chilled,” said Lindsay. “Does she always do that?”
Sebastian nodded. “She has a competitive streak.”
“Remind me not to get too close.”
Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that. He needed to play his trump card—the contrite lover brush-off. It never failed.
“Lindsay, our time together was incredible. They were two of the happiest nights of my life.” He touched his heart. “But somebody else occupies the space. We have to say goodbye.”
“That’s a wonderful fairy-tale ending. Except, I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
Lindsay is a bunny boiler.
“We need to talk, Sebastian. And I’d rather not do it here.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said with resignation.
Cars choked the road and conversation as they strolled toward the secluded river trail. Sebastian occasionally checked behind.
“Is there anything wrong?” asked Lindsay.
Sebastian wanted to say, Wrong? What could possibly be wrong? I could be walking with an unhinged, spurned lover and followed by a moralizing stalker. Or maybe you’re one and the same.
Instead Sebastian said, “I have a kink in my neck.”
Sebastian didn’t relax until they veered off the sidewalk to compacted gravel and rollicking water.
A boy toddled towards them, his hand held by a stooped over mother.
“He’s adorable,” said Lindsay, her face radiant. “When they’re that cute, you just want one of your own.”
God, she’s not here to boil a bunny. The rabbit has already died.
Sebastian stared at Lindsay’s stomach. No baby bump. He analyzed her breasts. Plump, but not burgeoning. Still, it was only the first trimester.
“Kids don’t like me,” said Sebastian. “I’d be a terrible father.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know how tender you can be, how affectionate. You’ll be a great dad.”
Sebastian wiped his forehead. The toddler and his mother came abreast. The sweet, little boy kicked Sebastian in the shin without slowing his topsy-turvy step. “You’re doing great, Jimmy,” said the oblivious mom.
“Did you see that?” said a dumbfounded Sebastian.
“See what?”
“The little brat just kicked me.”
“Come on. Kids don’t go around kicking grown men.”
“Well that one just did,” protested Sebastian, pointing an accusatory finger at the tyke.
“Mine won’t kick you.”
Sebastian’s heart sank with Lindsay’s reassurance. “Have you told anyone?”
“Told anyone what?”
“That you’re pregnant,” said Sebastian.
Lindsay stalled and gave Sebastian an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”
“When is the baby due?”
“There is no baby due. I’m not pregnant.”
“You’re not.” said Sebastian, feeling a gush of relief. “But you said your kid wouldn’t kick me.”
“He won’t, when I have one. But that won’t be any time soon.”
“Then what is this walk all about?”
“I expect we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. I’ve been accepted into journalism school. And when the applications open, I intend to apply for an internship in your newsroom. Help me get it.” It sounded more like a demand than a request. “It’s the least you can do.”
“But you already have a career as an environmental researcher.”
“You showed me Never Never Land. A place where everyone watches what you do and say. No one pays any attention to what I do or say. You can hold a nation’s attention. You can change people’s lives in minutes. It takes me years. And sometimes change never comes at all. I’m suffocating. I want what you have. I’ve seen a better career and I’m going to get it.”
This woman is made of granite.
“Welcome to the club.” He kissed her cheek.
Perhaps he had been too quick to dress her after Janice’s undressing. He fantasized about both Lindsay and Janice clawing their way into his bed.
[ eight ]
Sebastian waved his passkey over the sensor, unlocking the side door. The security guard had tipped him off that Ethan was in the building.
“Evening,” said the cleaner, pushing her cart outside the washrooms. Sebastian whisked by without a word.
Ethan laid a file box on his desk and opened a drawer. He took out his much-loved tin of Walkers shortbread and placed it inside the box as if it were delicate china. Sebastian crept through shadows; most of the ceiling lights were off. He half sat on a desk behind Ethan.
The warlords had the newsroom to themselves. The late-night news crew was out, probably covering a downtown house fire. A scanner on The Desk squawked. Paramedics radioed the emergency room over the wail of an
ambulance siren.
“Patient has suffered smoke inhalation. ETA—three minutes.”
Ethan grabbed the souvenir media passes hanging on his lamp: the Beijing Olympics, The White House, Pope John Paul II’s funeral. He threw the whole bunch into the box. Ethan reached between mounds of documents to retrieve a photo of his wife and children. He wiped off the dust with a tissue before adding it to the wreckage.
He picked up Bobblehead Ethan, cocked his arm but held his fire. Bobblehead Ethan faced an undignified burial in a garbage can. He bobbed like a crazy man. Ethan gave a dispirited laugh and changed his aim. Bobblehead Ethan soared into a nest of media passes.
His business cards, the ones proudly declaring Ethan Tremblay Host, Here & Now, joined a pile of reporter notepads destined for the dumpster.
“What was it you said about conquering armies?” asked Sebastian. Ethan twitched. “They tear down the symbols of the vanquished.” Ethan kept his back to Sebastian and continued his sorting. “Looks like you’re doing it for me.”
“If it isn’t Sir Bastard Hunter. Come by to gloat, have you?”
“Gloating is unsportsmanlike, but you did berate me into remembering your sage observation if I ever got in a war zone.”
“You can’t fight a war on two fronts. You I could handle. But you and Janice,” Ethan shook his head, “I surrender.”
“You lasted twenty-four hours longer than I thought you would.”
Ethan finally turned around to confront his harasser. “Damned with faint praise. Better men than you have done it before and lived to regret it.”
Sebastian stood erect. “I don’t scare easily. And I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“Enjoy your victory, Sebastian. I’m sure it won’t be long before you and Janice start squabbling over the spoils. It will get ugly.”
“At least it will be a fair fight between two people who deserve a chance at the brass ring. There won’t be any interlopers.”
“Here’s something for you, Sebastian.” Ethan held up a workbook with a spiral coil. “Respect in the Workplace,” said Ethan, reading the cover.
“That’s rich coming from you, don’t you think.”
Ethan flipped it into the trash.
“Where will you go?” asked Sebastian.
“I’m not sure. Another newsroom inside Holy Mother Corp, I imagine. Probably Toronto. They’re not as good at backstabbing there.”
“Ah, yes,” said Sebastian, “CBC Toronto—where your friends stab you in the front.”
Ethan met his rival’s eyes. “Why did you do it?”
Sebastian closed to within cuffing distance. “For one, you rubbed me the wrong way, but that wasn’t the main reason.” Sebastian wanted him to beg.
“Inquiring minds want to know,” said Ethan.
“You simply walked in the room,” said Sebastian. “You took something I wanted. I decided to take it back.”
“I guess you can’t blame a shark for being a shark.”
“I have a question for you now. How did you get tangled up with that doctor over in Gaza?”
“I got caught in a firefight between some Palestinians and an Israeli patrol. Bullets flew like sleet. One grazed me in a delicate spot and Haifa sewed me up.” Ethan put the cover on his box. “You’ve seen her eyes. One thing led to another.”
“Did you really get your balls shot off?”
Ethan picked up his box. “You’ll go to your grave not knowing.” He headed for the exit sign.
“You coward,” yelled Sebastian. “You don’t have the balls to tell me.”
Sebastian heard receding laughter.
•
Sebastian couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Strawberries love a sunny, well-drained site,” said Dan. “And lots of compost.”
Dozy Dan was killing him with boredom. He had to be stopped. Sebastian invented deliverance:
The bamboo blowgun poked through a wall of pointy leaves. The Mother-in-Law’s Tongue offered ample camouflage. Sebastian heard a whoosh. A quivering dart dipped in curare punctured Dozy Dan’s neck. The poison paralyzed him before his hand could even touch the quivering feathers. He collapsed face-first into his leek soup. The gurgling was mercifully short.
“I’m expecting a bumper crop,” said Dan.
A wall panel slid open without a sound. A black-clad figure, his face covered except for his eyes, skittered into the dining room. He removed a throwing-star from his sleeve. The sharpened points resembled a snowflake. “Dozy Dan-san,” cried the ninja, catching the dupe in mid-slurp. Sebastian saw a glint, heard a rush of air. The star embedded into Dozy Dan’s forehead. His head cracked back; his eyes turned vacant. His spoon tumbled into his leek soup, splattering his shirt. The ninja bowed to Sebastian before disappearing back inside the wall.
“I can’t wait to slather them in fresh cream,” said Dan.
Sebastian reached under the dining-room table and pressed the eject button. There was a piercing boing. Dozy Dan catapulted over Sebastian’s head, hurtling through the front window before he even had time to scream. Glass sprayed into the street. Sebastian heard a distant thud and a car alarm siren. The spring-loaded seat reset.
“We’ll have plenty of berries for making jam,” said Dan.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Penelope. “We’ll give people strawberry jam as wedding favours.”
“Brilliant,” said Roxanne.
“We’ll tie cotton caps on the mason jars with twine bows,” said Penelope. “And attach tags saying Spread the Love.”
“It doesn’t get any better than that,” said Sebastian. “Donna, will you help spread the love?”
Donna surfaced from her quinoa salad. “I think there’s been enough love spread in this family.”
Penelope drained her wine glass. “Let’s make a deal, Donna. Help with the jam and I’ll take both of you shopping in Toronto. Girls’ weekend away. Shop ‘till we drop on Queen Street West.”
“I can be bought,” said Donna. “Just this once.”
Penelope patted Sebastian’s thigh. “You wouldn’t mind losing Roxanne for a weekend, would you Sebastian?”
“Not at all. I’m sure I’ll find something to do to stay out of trouble.”
“A man is allowed to get into a little trouble during his last days as a bachelor,” giggled Penelope. She squeezed Sebastian’s thigh.
Prudish Penelope is no prude when she gets a few in. Try showing some inhibition, please.
“I’d toast the road trip if I had some wine,” said Penelope.
Sebastian lifted the bottle out of the wine bucket. It was empty. “I’ll get another. Care to join me, Dan? I’ve got a secret stash in the basement.”
Dan followed Sebastian downstairs to a wine rack, next to the shelves holding the Christmas decorations and a bag of hockey equipment.
“Do you still play?” asked Dan.
“At least once a week during the winter. I love to score.”
“I catch the occasional Leafs’ game. CBC has a suite.” Dan shook his head with the pathetic dejection of a broken-hearted fan. “The sacrifices I make for this corporation.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Sebastian pulled out a wine. “Laroche Chablis. Will Penelope like this?”
“Lately she likes anything that comes out of a bottle with a cork.”
“Is everything okay?”
“She’s stressed about the wedding. Mother of the bride nerves, I guess. You’d swear Roxanne was the first daughter ever to get married on short notice.”
Murky voices from the dining room migrated to the basement.
“I think we’re both in for a lot of ‘Yes, dear,’ ” said Sebastian. They shared a collegial laugh.
“Being away so much doesn’t help,” said Dan.
“Do you ever get tired of the commute?”
“Yes, but I don’t tire of the pay cheque.”
“I can’t wait for my own commute.”
“Sebastian,
I’m afraid I have some bad news. Toronto has changed its mind about your secondment.”
“What?”
“I probably shouldn’t be the one telling you, but since you brought it up. It’s all because of this fuss over Ethan.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“He has friends at The National. They hold you responsible.”
“Me!” said Sebastian. His indignation filled the basement. “What proof do they have?”
“None. Just Ethan’s word. Did you actually ask him if he got his balls shot off?”
“What! He’s the consummate liar.”
“Regardless, they believe him and resources have been reallocated, as they say.”
“Let me see if I have this right. Ethan embarrasses the CBC, causes a furious backlash, resigns from Here & Now in disgrace and I’m the one who gets punished.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. I can’t interfere. Everyone would scream nepotism.”
“Let them scream. His friends can hurt me, but my future father-in-law can’t protect me. They’re reneging on an offer. And they get to do it with impunity, it seems.”
“When things cool down, I’ll twist a few arms. In the meantime, isn’t there an anchor job open? Skate where the puck is going to be, Sebastian.”
Sebastian shoved the Laroche Chablis back in the rack. “Let’s try this Ontario Chardonnay. It’s got a great nose.”
•
France, Spain, or Italy? Roxanne wasn’t sure where to go first. The wine rack needed restocking, so she planned to buy in all three countries. To break the stalemate, she relied on her personal maxim: when in doubt, go to Italy.
Roxanne pushed her shopping cart through the South America aisle, completely ignoring the substantial offerings from Argentina and Chile. She and Sebastian freely admitted to being old-world snobs when it came to wine. Argentina and Chile might be nice places to visit, but you wouldn’t want to drink there.
She sailed around the Horn, bound for continental Europe. Roxanne dropped anchor beside the shelf holding Chianti. She picked up a Ruffino Classico. A guilty smile broke out, her cheeks went ruby. She covered her mouth, but her petite fingers couldn’t hide the upturned corners of her lips. Sebastian had thrilled her body by pouring Chianti over it and lapping it clean. A wild night in bed, fuelled by splashes of Tuscany’s finest vintage.