His relationship with the woman wasn’t exactly “warm,” they’d certainly quarreled years back, but they were two of the strongest pillars trying to hold up this collapsing community. And that meant that they at least respected each other. The same couldn’t always be said for her feelings about the Westgates though.
The Westgates had spent too many years being feared. They’d thrown their weight around too much and made too many enemies.
Generally speaking, “good” was always the enemy of “better.”
Now that the Westgates had stumbled, it was tough getting them back up.
But Thraex wasn’t a man to back down from hard work.
Mrs. Magnolia Lafayette-Dupree saw him coming and graciously gestured to the seat across from her with one graceful hand.
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” Thraex inclined his head. “I can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon than chatting in the shade with a lovely lady.”
The old woman looked amused by his mild flirtation. “As charming as you know I find you, I don’t believe for a second that this is a chance encounter.” She put down her teacup and looked at him expectantly, picking up a fan to cool herself off. “Lord, it’s hot. Please tell me that you’ve come up with a way to restore this neighborhood to the proper temperature? Or at least deduced what is causing this blasted heat?”
“No idea at all, ma’am.” Thraex lied smoothly. “It’s a bit of a mystery, sure enough.”
“Pity. I’m finding it so difficult to plan my wardrobe. Everything is all out of season.”
“Well, we all thank you kindly for puttin’ on a nice preview of next summer’s fashions for us, ma’am.” He teased, then got more serious. “I’m gonna talk straight with you Mrs. Lafayette-Dupree,” Thraex told the woman in his softest tone, “because my step-daddy always said that you were the best businesswoman in our social set. As with all gentile ladies in this community, ‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.’” He leaned closer, “I know that your eldest boy, Jackson, ran up a heap of bills that he can’t pay, and now you’re in danger of losing your lab, maybe more.”
“Your information is wrong.” The woman told him firmly. “It’s the height of impertinence to even bring up something like that. It’s not going to happen.”
“Of course not. But as my step-father used to say, ‘the perception of the problem is the problem.’” Thraex lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t have folks thinkin’ you’re washed up. There’s a pride issue, but deeper, that’s bad for business. No one trusts someone who’s on their way down to the dust. In Reichelt Park, your reputation is your life, you know that.”
She didn’t reply to that, continuing to fan her face with a paper fan decorated with the logo of the upcoming Reichelt Park festival. “I’m an old woman, Thraex. You think I concern myself with what this community thinks about me anymore?”
“Yes.” He answered immediately. “Yes, I do. So, I propose that we can help you out some with your problem.” Thraex continued. “You subcontract your responsibilities to the Westgates, they assume all the risks and provide all the know-how, then kick you back 15%. Zero risk to you, you don’t have to do anything, and you get your fine name once again attached to the only operational independent lab left in town.”
“I could just do the work myself.” The woman argued. “I don’t need the Westgates at all, especially not with them being in the shape they are.”
“Ma’am, with all due respect… if your lab was in a position to do the work, you wouldn’t be lettin’ me waste your time like this.” The woman was looking pale and thin the last year or so, and her children weren’t exactly hauling in Nobel Prizes by the bucketful. They’d cut her out of the research side of things, and she had always been the brains of the operation. No, she couldn’t do the work any longer and she knew it. Which meant that Thraex had an opening. “You ain’t in the dust yet. But you’re sure knockin’ on the door, ma’am. No sense pretendin’ when we both know it.” Thraex crossed his legs and took on the relaxed posture of a businessman. “This field…”
He trailed off as Beaumont Doucet appeared beside them, materializing from the crowd like a damn weevil in a sack of flour.
“There you are, you son of a bitch.” Beaumont slurred out, smelling like the floor of a bar on the last day of Mardi Gras. “You can’t hide from me forwever…” He mispronounced the word due to his inebriation.
Beaumont Doucet was an enraged, entitled, little twerp.
The eldest son of one of the community’s most respected scientific families, he’d done little with his life other than make the papers with the occasional editorial about how the community needed to remain “true to its history,” which judging from his behavior and family, apparently involved drunk driving, creating weapons of mass destruction they’d sell to the highest bidder, and getting into fistfights with his maids.
He was exactly what someone would think a rich idiot’s son would be like.
His entire worldview was backward facing and dedicated to making sure that other people didn’t get as much as he had. He was a man characterized by an overwhelming sense of his own blamelessness, no matter the situation. Everyone who disagreed with him was lying or wicked or “part of the problem.” He lived his whole life in a fictional world where everything that happened only happened to re-affirm his own ideas or to praise him for his genius. Everything else was just filler.
Thraex couldn’t stand him.
Thraex took the credit and the blame for everything he did, being equally proud of both. Because everything was his doing, and he’d worked for it. Even if it came to nothing, he’d still worked his tail off for it.
The Doucet boy felt entitled to everything, and more, made no effort to achieve anything.
If there was one thing in this world that got under Thraex’s collar, it was a no‘count whiner.
Thraex held up a finger to Mrs. Lafayette-Dupree. “Would you excuse me for a moment, ma’am, I have to have words with a friend of ours who is in a sad state, as I’m sure you can smell.”
“You think you can steal from my family and get away with it!?!” Beaumont demanded, teeth clenched.
“Your daddy borrowed money from me,” Thraex reminded him, “I gave him plenty of time to pay it back, but he couldn’t. So I collected on the collateral he offered, and fully intend to get the rest of his debt back when his assets hit auction.”
“You took our fucking lab!” Beaumont cried. “It’s been in…”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Thraex cut him off disinterestedly. “It’s ‘been in your family for generations.’ I’ve heard this before, son.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But it still needs to pay its bills, don’t it? Everybody’s in the same boat these days, and it’s sprung a mess of leaks. If you can’t row, you’re gonna have’ta jump ship and swim.” He shrugged. “Seems like your daddy understands that, seein’ as how it’s you here complainin’ and not him.”
“My father is dead.”
Shit.
Thraex pursed his lips in thought, trying to decide his best course of action. “Well… damn. That’s unfortunate.”
“You killed him.” Beaumont pressed, that declaration sounding crazy when mixed with the music wafting through the air from the nearby café. “They say he shot himself, but we both know what you did.”
Sinatra’s Something Stupid.
Not Thraex’s favorite, but he liked it a mite bit more than he liked listening to the Doucet boy.
“The bullet killed him,” Thraex countered, recognizing the man’s fury and seeing that if there was no way to cool it, might as well stoke it higher, “all I did was get him evicted, which ensured that he didn’t stain the floors of his lab when he went. Hate to have to pay to have them re-finished when I move in.”
“You think some foreign piece of shit dimensional trash can just say that to me!?!” Beaumont screeched, fists clenched. “And that there won’t be a reckoning
for that?”
“What, like a duel?” Thraex snorted in dismissal. “You’ve read too many Victorian novels, son.”
“You think I couldn’t take you?” Beaumont pressed, drunken pride bruised. “You’re just some dimensional monster the Westgates brought home and taught to do tricks for them. My family has…”
“Fine. I accept. A duel it is.” Thraex answered immediately, cutting him off. He stood up, meeting the other man’s eyes expectantly. This would be the shortest and most satisfying fight Thraex had ever had. “Say when.”
Beaumont took a small step back, puffing out his chest. “You come into our neighborhood, a goddamned outsider, no better than some fucking mainstreamer, buying up good family labs and destroying their history…” He poked his finger into Thraex’s chest. “You’re taking advantage of the troubles of this community to fill your damn pockets. We’re trying to rebuild it to its old prominence, and you’re just trying to exploit it! You’re a goddamn opportunist!”
Thraex had no idea what the boy was going on about. He wasn’t aware of any effort to “rebuild” the community which the Doucets were a part of. The only “building” which was going on in Reichelt Park these days was Triumph Industries tearing down most everything standin’. But Thraex didn’t bother to point that out.
“We talkin’ business now? Weren’t we having a gentleman’s duel?” Thraex slapped Beaumont’s hand away, stepping towards him, forcing the other man to back up. “Or are you just yellow as mustard without the spice?”
Beaumont didn’t reply, continuing to glare at Thraex with bloodshot and furious eyes.
“I didn’t kill your daddy, I lent him money when no one else in this town would.” Thraex told him honestly, hoping he didn’t have to kill this boy today. It would really get in the way of an already busy morning.
“Fuck that,” the man snarled, “you can lie to the rest of this town, but I know what you did. And I know why.”
“It was a fair deal, he just couldn’t stand the idea of owin’ me.” Thraex continued. “Thought a loan from me was the same as a gift from someone else. Thought his name meant he didn’t have to pay me back.”
“Yes! Because you owe us! I know aaaall about your history with my father.” He accused him cryptically. “After what you took from us, he could have borrowed every penny you have and it still wouldn’t have been enough to pay us back.”
“Whatever I did, I did because it was right.” Thraex told him flatly, unsure of what version his father had told him.
“’Right’ according to who!?! YOU!?! You’re not one of us! This neighborhood died because of the Freedom Squad.” Beaumont reminded him. “Because of your old friends, who you helped when they stole our industry and shut us down. And now that they’re gone, you’re willing to stoop to anything, no matter how infamous or repugnant, to secure more power for yourself. That’s who you are, so I don’t think anyone in this town needs your views on right and wrong.”
Thraex snorted at that. “Your decadent, proud community abdicated your responsibilities and gave them to the Cape set, because you were too busy swaggering and boasting about your successes to actually do anything.” Thraex cocked his head to the side. “For all your big brains, proper manners, and fine family names… you got lazy. This whole neighborhood thought it could take its eyes off the road, just so long as your Cape friends were drivin’. Another attempt on their part to find a quick fix to things and make it easier on themselves. But you all trusted the wrong folks. And your new friends started a war with the people of this city. And to refresh you on current events: the Freedom Squad lost. You lost, because you lot threw in with them.” He gestured around them, and to the mostly shuttered buildings which bordered the park. “And this is the result. Your community is bankrupt and broken.”
“We could have stopped that.” Beaumont insisted. “But you couldn’t have that, could you? Had to keep us down. Because you’re fucking jealous and don’t know your place. And now you won’t even let us re-build…”
“Something new is going to come around to pick up the pieces here, absolutely.” His voice grew harsher. “And I aim to put my brand on a piece of that.” He shook his head threateningly. “But I don’t give charity to families that used to spit at my shadow. You borrow from me, you’re gonna damn well pay it back.” His mouth curved into a cruel smile. “Sorry son, bottom rail’s on top this time.”
“You cheated us!” Beaumont cried, unsteady on his feet.
Thraex rolled his eyes. “Stop whining and do something about it then.” He challenged.
“You’re out to swindle this whole neighborhood!” Beaumont shouted. “And one day soon, we’re going to make sure that thieves like you pay.”
“Isn’t not payin’ kinda the whole point of thievin’, fella?” Thraex snorted in dismissal. “But bless your heart for tryin’.”
“I’ll fucking kill you for this!” Beaumont shrieked.
Mrs. Lafayette-Dupree cleared her throat, and the boy looked at her in astonishment, as if not realizing she was even there. “Please don’t disturb our breakfast, Beaumont.” She asked icily in lady-like command. “Not on such a lovely morning.”
Beaumont closed his mouth and staggered back a step, like she’d hit him.
Thraex didn’t bother to deny the charges leveled against him because no one would care anyway. The families who would pay attention to such a thing were all busy with their own concerns and already disliked him because he couldn’t trace his scientific credentials back to the caveman who invented fire.
Besides, he had no moral objection to cheating. He hadn’t in this particular instance, but he would, given the right circumstances.
Fair play didn’t matter when the game was on the line. You fought for every yard.
He’d gone out of his way to help the boy’s family, just because he wanted their assistance in supporting the neighborhood, but they’d tried to double-cross him. So, he’d called in the debt.
Regrettable, but necessary.
It had come down to the Westgates or the Doucets, and that simply wasn’t a choice for Thraex.
The Doucets were an invasive species and once their presence threatened his Westgate population… they had to go. If Thraex could turn a profit in the process? Well, all the better.
“I have no interest in the rules your community ruined itself following, boy.” He told Beaumont flatly. “I’m a grown man, neither chick nor child. I’ll hop any fence if it gets me to where I’m headed quicker.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry your daddy wasn’t able to pay off his debt, but that ain’t my fault or my problem.” His words took on a threatening edge. “So if you want to brawl right here, with everybody gawkin’ at us, then get to it. You’re borin’ me. And if you’re just jawin’, tryin’ to make folks that got problems of their own start carryin’ the burden of yours too, then I ain’t got time for that, son. Tell it to your mama, ‘cause I don’t care.”
Beaumont wasn’t quiiiiiite drunk enough to actually fight him, so instead he just stepped away, vowing gruesome revenge at an indeterminate point in the future, like all yellow cowards.
“One day soon, we’re going to string you up in this park, Thraex.” Beaumont warned in a growl, pointing at him with a finger which shook with alcohol and rage. His tone was subdued now though, like he’d been knocked down a few pegs. “And then we’re all going to dance around your corpse as you writhe…”
Thraex rolled his eyes.
He leaned closer to Thraex, lowering his voice. “I know about ‘The God Machine.’” He whispered. “My father told me what you, Merridew, and Etienne Rouillard did at Anderson Observatory. And no one on this earth will forgive you for that. Especially not the Westgates. Not when I tell them.”
Thraex stared at him, eyes narrowing in anger. He wasn’t a man who took threats well, as many men in town had found out over the years.
Beaumont backed away slowly, then left the scene.
Thraex sat back into his chair. “I apo
logize for that, ma’am.” He told Mrs. Lafayette-Dupree, trying to calm down. “That whole family has been playing hide-and-seek with stupidity their whole damn lives, and right now, seems like that boy is ‘it.’”
“So… your step-father died and left you all of his money.” Magnolia summarized. “Argyle Doucet owed you money and died. And the people you owe money to had their building mysteriously explode while you were standing outside of it, taking with it Councilman Merridew, a man who didn’t like you.” She took a sip of her tea, looking almost amused. “These facts do not inspire one with confidence in your reliability, Thraex. People who do business with you seem to end up with more troubles than they started.”
“This field isn’t what it was.” Thraex shook his head. “The way things used to be? That don’t cut it no more, and you see that. Our science community is changing.” He met the old woman’s eyes. “Don’t let pride keep you from changing with it.” He gestured around the street. “A lot of once great families have disappeared because they refused to learn new things. Their greatness withered on the vine.” He gestured to where Beaumont had disappeared into the crowd. “That’s what happened to the Doucets, as you just saw.” He leaned back in his chair again. “And Professor Beardsly Westgate? He never wanted things to change either. Mortgaged his future on the Freedom Squad handling everything, because he couldn’t stand the idea of new things. Wanted everything to be the same as he remembered. Saw it as ‘tradition.’ He got stuck living in the past. In a very literal sense. Loved the past so much, damned velociraptors got him, rest his poor eccentric soul.” He met her eyes again. “Don’t make his mistake, ma’am. Don’t sacrifice the future for the past.”
“Don’t live in the past? Is that why your family and entire building look like something from the 1964 World’s Fair?” She let out an amused chuckle, which ended in a dry wheeze. “You people haven’t changed a thing in decades.” She wiped at her mouth with a delicate lace handkerchief, leaving it slightly pink with blood. “It’s grotesque and demented.”
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