This world wasn’t perfect. But it shouldn’t be a nightmare. Not for anyone or anything.
Nash closed the drawer of her toolbox with a snap. “It’s an 80 year old 4-on-the-floor, with an obnoxiously overpowered yet utterly obsolete engine. This thing has no doors, the roof is connected to the side-panels and the whole thing is hinged so you enter through what would be the trunk area in back. There are 31 indicator lights on the dashboard, 29 toggle switches, and 4 control levers. I don’t even know what some of them do, because Stanley Westgate didn’t exactly leave an instruction book. That would have broken some kind of unwritten Westgate rule, I suppose.” She ran a tired hand through her hair. “This is not a car we can drive every day to buy groceries, sir. It was never meant to be. This thing is a death-trap with really shitty brakes and no seatbelts.”
That wasn’t what Thraex wanted to hear.
“Can you fix it or not?” He pressed.
“It’s a 27-Liter World War II era aircraft engine, that’s been heavily modified and weighs over 3,500 pounds on its own. Do you have any idea how complicated this thing is?” She pointed at the engine in question, which was visible through the clear exterior hood of the car. “It’s a V-12 that puts out over 2,000 horsepower. Just adjusting the valves on this takes over forty hours, Thraex, even for me, and I grew up in this garage. This thing is using custom machined parts combined with vintage aircraft components, in a hand-made experimental clear plastic body. Its racing tires are a foot wide and special ordered in white rubber. Its gas tank holds over a hundred gallons because it only gets 3 miles per gallon, even at idle….” She trailed off.
“You’re talkin’ to me like I care and like I know anythin’ ‘bout cars, Nash.” He shook his head. “Those are faulty assumptions on your part.”
She let out a tired sigh. “Listen… this car,” she tapped the hood, “is basically one huge antique engine which you sit in, wrapped in a plastic bubble that’s shaped like a rocket, built by a dead Westgate that everyone thought was crazy. And it’s been down here in a dank garage since long before either of us were even alive. This is not a weekend project that I can crank out on command, this is a decade long, body-off restoration, which needs to be done by a team of experts.”
“We don’t have a team of experts, and we don’t have the money to hire a team of experts.” He shook his head. “Which means that you’ll have to do.”
“That’s not my job.”
“Yes. It is. This is what I pay you for.”
She made a scoffing sound. “You haven’t paid me in years, sir.” She reminded him.
Well… he had to give her that one. Her paychecks had stopped when the rest of the staff had been let go, the woman had just continued to work here anyway. She was too stubborn to allow herself to be fired.
“Your family has served the Westgates for three generations. Westgates do science. You do this.” He pointed at the vehicle. “Do your job.”
“I can see now why this town hates you so much, sir.” She bit out.
He glowered down at her. “Not yet, you haven’t.” He warned ominously.
“Thraex!” Sasha appeared from the elevator. “Are you down here?”
“Just finishin’ up.” He answered, continuing to stare down the Westgate’s rebellious yet unpaid employee. “Do what you can, Nash.” He told the other woman, then stalked back to the staircase. “Is there a problem?” He asked Sasha.
“Yes.” She nodded. “You.”
“I got a heap of problems, chère.” He agreed, joining her in the elevator. “As always, most of them answer to the name ‘Westgate.’”
She shook her head rapidly. “No, no, this isn’t about us this time.” She poked him in the chest with one fingernail. “This is about you.”
****
“I’m not the one havin’ lunch with the dregs of the neighborhood.” Thraex reminded her, pressing the button for the lobby much harder than was necessary.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Jaxx Brixton wants me to contest my father’s will.”
He pursed his lips, obviously trying to hold back his reaction. “And are you?”
“I…” She looked down at the floor of the elevator. “I don’t know.”
The door bing-ed open and Thraex exited. “Well, I’m sure he’ll treat the homestead with a lot of respect.” He absently ran his fingers through the long green hair of “The Horror of Crater Isle,” which her family had stuffed and mounted in the lobby. Thraex looked up at the taxidermied monstrous beast. “I wonder where he’ll put this old fella? Prolly make a fancy new coat out of it. I hear his upcoming fashion line is real nice.”
She made a face at him. “That’s not the point and you know it.” She stalked after him. “The point is that there have been three murders this week and he makes a very persuasive argument that you are somehow involved in them.”
“I’m sure you did your level best to defend me though, didn’t you, Darlin’?” He stopped in his tracks, looming over her. “Or maybe you didn’t?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a threatening edge. “Maybe you and your friend have decided to finally be rid of Richard Westgate’s bastard step-son, eh? Maybe it’s time I showed you who I really am…”
She automatically took a step away from him, then made a face. “You don’t scare me, Thraex.” She told him flatly. “I remember you when you were a frightened little boy, crying with joy because he’d discovered indoor plumbing.”
He looked almost irritated by her refusal to find him scary anymore, and instead stalked up the stairs towards the second floor.
He was deliberately trying to leave her behind by taking the stairs rather than using the elevator.
“What’s Anderson Observatory?” She asked, not willing to let this drop.
“Some kinda observatory, I’d wager.” He replied, taking on a mocking “thoughtful” tone. “But you’re the genius, you tell me.”
“You’re being a prick right now, Thraex.” She shot back, getting angry. “I’ve spent all morning researching the chemical makeup of the explosives used to destroy a warehouse, so that we can pay back a group of supervillains that you borrowed money from.” She stopped on the landing, voice harsher. “This is your debt we’re trying to pay back!”
“My debt.” He repeated, then turned around to glare at her. “This isn’t ‘my’ debt, Sasha, I inherited it the same as I got this building!” He gestured to their surroundings. “You can blame your daddy for bringin’ The Farm into our lives, I’m just tryin’ to get free of ‘em.”
Her anger faded into surprise.
“Oh, did no one mention that fact to you while you were off hidin’ in Central City?” He pressed, sounding indignant. “Yeah, your old man had himself a jolly time writin’ checks to folks all over town. Checks that I’ve had to make good on or all of us would be out on the street.” He gestured back and forth between them. “You seem to be livin’ in this little Westgate dream world where I’m the big bad wolf…”
She cleared her throat. “Well, perhaps it has something to do with you cutting me out of my own inheritance.”
“Let me tell you what actually happened.” He pointed at her angrily. “You lost your damn mind ‘cause you couldn’t stand folks talkin’ about you and me, and you couldn’t stand the fact that my mama can’t say no to powerful men like your daddy when they tell her she’s special, so you ran off with some trashy loser. You chose him over me. Because you hated yourself. Shook the dust of me off your pretty shoes right quick, and went off to find better places.” He threw his arms out in exasperation. “And then rather than callin’ me up and tellin’ me you needed help, you damn well kill that abusive peckerhead on your own and end up in jail ‘cause you can’t lie worth a damn to anyone but yourself.”
“I didn’t kill Michael.” She defended. “He stole one of my inventions to rob his dealer without my knowing, and it backfired. He was killed, but it was completely an accident.”
“Sure.” He nodded hum
oringly. “’Cause you’d make that kinda ‘math mistake’ again, right?”
She didn’t reply.
He was already continuing with his tirade though. ”Then I took a job with the Freedom Squad which still gives me nightmares, because your family told me it would be a good idea, and I figured anything was better than sittin’ around this building without you.” He gestured to her again. “I finally get out of that horror show, to come home and find that your daddy has started drinkin’ his mind poison, because for some damn fool reason your family is always under the impression that they have somethin’ to prove ta folks.”
“And I’m sure you just hated ending up with all our money.” She sneered out.
“What money!?!” He spread out his arms. “He mighta been a genius but he sure weren’t no financial genius. He lost most everything he had on the stocks, the ponies, and on a damn fool plan that was…” He trailed off. “Then started sellin’ off everythin’ not breathin’ or bolted to the floor.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “All I ever got from your daddy was a mug broken against my skull and a whole mess of bills. Bills that I would have to pay outta my pocket if I wanted to keep this building.”
“That’s not true.” She defended, voice breaking. “My father left me an inheritance. I got the check in the mail.”
He simply stared at her.
And then she knew.
The money had come from Thraex. He’d sent it to her, so that she’d at least have something and wouldn’t know that her father had completely cut her off.
He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “I get a call a few weeks later from a home upstate where your mama had sent Baxter because he wasn’t as smart as the rest of you on account of bein’ a damn dinosaur now, and she didn’t want folks talkin’, and they say that they don’t want him there no more because the last check bounced. They suggest that I don’t bother with him no more either, and that I ‘let nature take its course.’” His face contorted in rage at the words. “So, I said hell with that, and I took him back here and I been takin’ care of him since. Some life is better than no life, and I think he’s happy.”
She turned to look down into the atrium area, where Baxter was sitting in the redirected sunlight, watching the flowers.
“A few months later,” Thraex continued, “I find Kurtz in the gutter with some horrid woman, tryin’ his damn best to get hisself killed, because again, if your family isn’t the best than you’d rather not be at all.”
Sasha sat down in one of the chairs on the landing, feeling weak.
“I find out that your idiot no-good brother Nathaniel had run off to Hollywood to do movies,” Thraex’s voice was filled with nothing but contempt for her other brother, “but got bored with that and decided that Vegas was a better option for his particular skill set of shakin’ his ass on stage.” He pointed to where they had left Colby. “Meanwhile, his daughter hasn’t spoken to anyone in months and was spending her days starin’ at a blank wall, imaginin’ some kinda life that’s better than the one she’s got. Girl was damn near in a coma, you couldn’t even shake her awake.”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose. “That’s why she’s here?” She got out weakly. “That’s why you took her?”
“Yeah, I took her.” Thraex agreed, like he was defending himself against an unspoken accusation. “But it wasn’t exactly kidnapping, I won her from her daddy with a busted flush and a case of whiskey. Colby Westgate cost me $191.88, plus shipping. That’s how much she was worth to him, and every day since I’ve tried to get through to her, but I ain’t exactly a genius like the rest of y’all, so I have no idea what to do for her. The Westgates have always been a mystery to me, but I keep on as I can.”
She looked down at the floor, trying to process all of this.
He crossed his arms over his chest again, obviously insulted by the day’s events. “I been stuck here, tryin’ to keep your house from being seized by creditors and the revenuers, watchin’ out for your idiot family ‘cause they seem to struggle with basic life skills, while you ran away from home with some piece of shit peckerhead because you couldn’t deal with what people were sayin’ about us no more.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You abandoned me with your life because you were ashamed of it, Miss Sasha. And I’ve spent years keepin’ it warm for you, waitin’ on you to come home and reclaim it, and finally I just got plum tired of waitin’, so I went out and got you myself. Because what you don’t go out and take for yourself in this life, you don’t get. No way, no how.”
They were both silent for several moments.
“That’s what happened, Darlin’.” He got out, voice now sounding tired. “You think anything else and you’re dreamin’.”
She cleared her throat. “I…” She began, then stopped. “I was not aware of this.” She finally got out. “Thank you for watching out for my family.”
He nodded his head. “Your family’s been good to me, I got no complaints.”
She stood up and walked towards him, standing close enough that she was almost touching him.
He stared down at her, eyes still burning from his impassioned accusation filled history lesson.
“I’m glad you told me the truth.” She said in her calmest and most polite voice. “Now… what’s Anderson Observatory?”
Thraex watched her for another moment, his breathing heavy.
Then he simply left.
Chapter 14
“Liden Westgate. Died 1914. Killed by a cave-in while tryin’ to use a huge digging machine he’d invented to reach the center of the earth. Don’t know why he bothered. I know a tiny giraffe who says that it ain’t that great a sight anyhow.”
– Thraex, Damn Fool Ways Westgates Ended Up Graveyard Dead: Vol. 1
The next day wasn’t much better, sadly.
Thraex had gotten them another job, this time installing some kind of gene splicer for a lab outside of Reichelt Park. In the old days, nothing would have been more disgraceful than helping no-name people install their equipment, but Thraex probably had a point that money was money.
Sasha had been hoping to continue their conversation today, but unfortunately they’d spent most of it in silence. There wasn’t even any over-the-top flirtation on Thraex’s part, he simply said only what he needed to say in order to get the job done.
So, at the moment, they were driving back to the Westgate Foundation building. Nash had been unable to drive them today because she was having several components for a car re-manufactured, and couldn’t leave.
Which meant that Sasha had to drive and Sasha hated driving. She knew how to do it, but it wasn’t something she routinely did.
When she was 12, she’d crashed the family’s “Jungle Road Builder” in the Amazon, and she’d never heard the end of it. The huge vehicle had been designed with the intention of cutting their way through the jungle using a series of lasers, while simultaneously laying down a two-lane highway beneath and spraying the underbrush with chemicals to keep anything from ever growing around it. The thing was atomic powered, five-stories high, and three football fields long. In retrospect… yeah, it hadn’t really been her grandfather’s most practical or useful idea, and it was probably for the best that Sasha had crashed it into that outdoor market.
Thraex absently stared out the window.
“I haven’t driven in a long time.” She admitted, not taking her eyes off the road. “I generally prefer public transportation when Nash isn’t available.”
Thraex didn’t respond to that.
Sasha made a face at him. “So is this going to be our lives now? You sulking in a corner somewhere?”
He snorted at that and refocused on her. “Well, we can talk about the ‘investigation’ if you’d like.” He took on a thoughtful face. “How’s it goin’, Darlin’? You find the evidence to finally put me away for them murders yet? Or will I kill again?”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to pin any murders on you. I’m simply curious why so many people inv
olved with you have died this week.” She pulled the car to a stop at the intersection and turned to look at him. “If people around you are dying and it’s all related to some kind of business deal you were involved in, then they could come for you next.” She met his eyes. “If you’re in danger, I’d like to know. You’re… important.”
He processed that, anger fading. “I ain’t in danger.” He told her softly. “None of this has got anythin’ to do with me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”
He didn’t reply.
She nodded. “Thought so.”
He cleared his throat. “Your daddy… he dreamed up this crazy scheme and then had one of the eggheads at Anderson Observatory build it for him, on account of him bein’ too weak by then.” He looked down at his hands. “Prolly wouldn’t even have worked.” He quickly added.
“What kind of scheme?”
“The kind that would have given us all more power than anyone should have.” He shifted in the seat. “Anyway, after he was incapacitated with his damned elixir, the business came to me. Pericles Merridew, Argyle Doucet, Magnolia Lafayette-Dupree, Etienne Rouillard, and I all went there to discuss the idea.” His tone grew darker. “There was… a disagreement over the machine, but since it now belonged to me, it didn’t much matter. I destroyed it.”
She frowned slightly. “Why would you be hesitant to tell me this?”
He turned to look at her with tired eyes. “That machine? It could’a made a lot of people’s lives better. Prolly yours. Fixed everything wrong with the world. But… but it would have ruined everything life is supposed to be about.”
She kept staring at him, trying to decide what that even meant…
Someone behind her honked their horn, snapping her back to reality. She started through the light, trying to focus on the road.
Broke and Famous Page 30