by R. S. Lively
~ooo000ooo~
“You have got to be kidding me,” she says.
I shake my head. “Wish I was.”
We're both sitting in fluffy blue robes at the bar in the living room area. She's on a stool and I'm standing behind the bar as we eat Chinese food out of the cartons. After our session in the tub, we were both left a little hungry, so I'd ordered in from my favorite place.
I pick up a big bite of chow mein with my chopsticks and slide it into my mouth, savoring the flavor. As I chew, I slide the piece of paper over to her, so she can see it for herself. As she chews on some Mongolian Beef, Darby unfolds the sheet of paper and reads it to herself, shaking her head the entire time.
“I cannot believe he actually found a judge who would sign off on this crap,” she says.
I shrug and finish chewing another bite of chow mein and then swallow it down. “It pays to have friends in high places, I suppose.”
“This is unreal,” she says softly. “That he's willing to go to these kinds of extremes, just to further his own political career.”
“And keep a tight leash on you, let's not forget that charming little bit.”
She chews thoughtfully on a bit of egg roll for a moment before turning to me. “What are you going to do?” she asks. “I mean, if he's opening investigations into your company –”
“His investigations are completely without merit,” I say. “If he sends his hounds around the office, I'll happily let them look at anything they want. They're not gonna find shit. Like I told him, I run a clean shop.”
“He's relentless, Carter,” she says. “He won't stop coming after you.”
I shrug. “Let him,” I say. “Like I told him, I made the mistake of letting him get between us once. I'm not going to do that again. Not for anything. I love you. You're mine. I'm yours. Fuck Mason. End of story.”
She smiles and looks away as blooms of red rise in her cheeks. I know I need to address the other elephant in the room – the one we've been actively avoiding talking about. The girl.
“Listen, the other thing I needed to talk to you about was the girl the other night,” I say.
I see her body tense up and she freezes with a bit of food halfway to her mouth. She recovers quickly though, pops the morsel in and chews, though I can see in her eyes just how wary and uncertain she still is.
“Mason was here that night,” I say. “He was the one who hired that girl to be here. Paid her to make that scene. This was his plan – since using Pops against me backfired on him, he wanted to make you think I was cheating on you, and drive the wedge between us again.”
She looks at me, the expression on her face inscrutable – which was quickly followed by a look of horror mixed with rage.
“Mason was hiding in the back room while all of that was going on up here,” I say. “Once you left, he came out and had a good laugh at my expense. I'm going to fucking bury him for that. He really picked the wrong person to fuck with.”
I can see the conflict on Darby's face. She hates Mason for what he's done – what he's doing – but, he's also still her brother. Her last known family member. I can understand why she'd be so leery of turning me loose on him. Despite the fact that he's a raging asshole, she doesn't want to see anything bad happen to him. I get that. Kind of.
But then, this isn't really her choice. He'd fucked with me – again. He'd fucked with me, with Pops, and with my relationship with Darby. The son of a bitch needs to learn his place. He needs to learn that there are consequences to our actions. That if we punch somebody in the mouth, you had best expect to get punched back. Twice as hard. Those are some hard lessons I've had to learn in my own life. Lessons you get taught pretty quick when you grow up in an orphanage in the Kitchen.
“Carter, I – what are you planning on doing?”
“Keeping my promise to him,” I say. “I told him if he came at me, I was going to tear his world down and set it on fire. He came at me. Now, it's up to me to hold up my end of the bargain. I'm a man of my word, Darby.”
“You're not going to – hurt him are you?”
I laugh and lean forward, kissing the tip of her nose. “Physically?” I ask. “No. I'm not going to lay a finger on him. I swear to God.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I'm going to ruin him. His reputation. His political ambitions,” I say. “I'm going to destroy his life.”
A shadow of uncertainty, and that look of conflict, passes across her face once more.
“Destroy his life?”
“Darby, if I don't teach him a lesson and put his ass in check, he's going to keep thinking he can operate with impunity,” I say. “If I don't teach him a lesson, he's going to keep coming after us. I need to put a stop to this shit once and for all.”
She nods. “I understand,” she says. “What are you going to do?”
I give her a grin. “It's already done,” I say. “Now, I just need to present him with what I have and my list of demands.”
I lay out the plan Rupert and I had put together and executed. It had all gone without a hitch. I knew Mason wouldn't be able to resist. His ego combined with his hatred of me, guaranteed that he wouldn't be able to. We'd laid a trap and he'd been so fucking blinded with his need to stick it to me, he'd walked straight into it. It was fucking beautiful.
When I finished my story, Darby sits back, chewing on a bit of food, looking thoughtful. She shakes her head and looks sad. Though I can understand it a bit, I can't let sentiment get in the way. Mason had punched me in the mouth and now it's time for me to punch back.
“It's going to be okay, Darby,” I say. “It's all going to work out.”
She nods, but can't quite wipe that small feeling of sadness and uncertainty off her face.
“Yeah,” she says. “I know.”
She looks up and gives me a weak smile. I come around the bar and pull her to me, holding her tight. I'm going to bring this to an end and get Mason fucking White out of our lives once and for all. He won a few battles, sure, but I'm about to win the fucking war.
Chapter Twenty
I walk through the office, feeling light and happy – which doesn't match the mood of the staff. They cast wary, uncertain looks at me. Which can only mean one thing. Mason is already here. I glance at my watch and realize I'm twenty minutes late. Oops.
“Ahab is in the conference room for you,” says Alice, the office receptionist. “He's been in there for half an hour and he's getting upset.”
“Did you offer him coffee?” I ask. “Danishes?”
She nods. “Of course, Mr. Bishop.”
“Then he can shut the hell up,” I say and give her a wink.
She smiles, but scurries back to her desk. Alice – hell, everybody – seems like they're bracing for a nuclear blast. They're not wrong, they just don't understand who it is that has their finger on the button. I step to the front of the room and clap my hands.
“Good morning, everybody,” I call out.
All business stops, and an awkward, hushed silence descends over the room. All eyes turn to me and I can see the questions – and fear – in their eyes.
“First off, I want to thank you all for your hard work over the past few weeks,” I say. “We have been having some extraordinary success and I appreciate all of your diligence. We're building on some tremendous work and are poised to go even higher. And that, is in large part, due to your dedication and hard work. I appreciate it, guys.”
Praising my crew normally gets some cheers and applause. This time though, the silence is practically deafening. I give them all a wide smile.
“I know you're tense about the fact that Ahab has been sniffing around lately,” I say. “And we all know nothing good comes of Ahab sniffing around people's shops, am I right?”
There are nods all around and quite, murmured agreement.
“Fear not,” I say. “Things are going to be different this time. This white whale is going to swallow Ahab whole. Trust me, guys
, we're not in any trouble. We haven't done anything wrong. Now, I'm going to head down to the conference room and neuter that son of a bitch.”
My words don't seem to reassure anybody. All they know is that when Mason starts poking around, people wind up in jail, and everybody else winds up out of work, reputations sullied, most having a hard time finding another job. I understand the fear, but they don't know what I do. That I have Mason over a barrel, and the only question left in my mind, is whether to give it to him dry, or be kind enough to lube up first.
I give everybody a thumbs up and walk down the hallway to the conference room. Through the glass wall, I see Mason sitting there, his face dark with anger and annoyance. When I step through the door, he pointedly looks at his watch and sighs.
“Nice of you to stop by,” he says.
“Least I could do,” I reply, smiling wide at him.
“You asked me to be here half an hour ago.”
I nod. “Yeah, but I never said I'd be here at the same time.”
“You're playing with fire right now, Carter.”
I shrug. “Seems to be a thing with me.”
“Yeah, it does.”
I drop down into the chair across the table from him and give him a long, level look. I can see his jaw clenching and he's flexing his hands, clenching and unclenching them, as if he's tense and having trouble controlling his temper. Good. If he's off balance already, it only makes my job that much easier.
“What do you want, Carter?” he snaps. “Why did you call this meeting?”
“Just to talk,” I say. “Now, that I've had some time to cool down, I wanted to talk.”
“Just to talk?” he asks, incredulous. “What is there to talk about? You either wave the white flag and surrender or I'm going to take you down. There is no other way this plays out.”
I give him a smirk. “I've been doing a lot of thinking lately,” I say. “I underestimated just how low you were willing to stoop. Underestimated just how big of a piece of shit you really are. Hiring a stripper to ambush me in my place like that? Seriously, man, what the fuck?”
Mason shrugs. “One must do, what one must do,” he says. “When you're fighting a war against somebody like you, sometimes you need to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty.”
“You seem to thrive down in the shit,” I say. “I don't think you ever come out of it.”
“I get results, don't I?” he says. “I always win, Carter. That's what I've been trying to tell you for a decade now. I always fucking win.”
“What about Darby?” I ask. “What about what she wants? She and I are happy together. Why can't you just let that be? Doesn't her happiness factor into your bullshit at all?”
He shrugs again. “Not really,” he says. “My career and my ambitions come first.”
“Mason is all about Mason.”
“My star is on the rise,” he says. “I can't and won't have Darby running around with somebody like – well – you.”
“And what is it about me that's so fucking objectionable, man?” I ask. “I run a clean shop, I pay my taxes, I give to charity. What the fuck is your problem with me?”
A reptilian smirk touches his lips. “I just don't like you. Never have.”
“So, that's what this is all about. You just don't like me,” I say. “Fuck Darby's happiness because you don't like me.”
“Well – yeah,” he says. “Pretty much. She can settle for somebody else. Somebody I approve of.”
“Wow,” I say. “You really are a piece of shit.”
“Speaking of pieces of shit,” he says. “I figure I'll do you a solid by giving you a heads up. One of your employees – excuse me – former employees, is turning whistleblower. Has all kinds of good shit on you. Shit that if it gets out, is gonna land you in prison for a long, long time.”
“That so?”
He nods. “That's so.”
“And what does this former employee supposedly have on me?”
“Insider trading. Wire fraud. Bank fraud,” he says. “I could go on and on.”
Mason holds up a thumb drive for me to see. “Turned this over to me this morning,” he says. “Haven't had a chance to look at it yet because you've kept me on ice here for a while, but I can't wait to open it up. I'm sure it makes for some fascinating reading.”
“I'm sure it does,” I say, suppressing a grin.
“Let this be a lesson to you,” he says. “Don't mistreat and manhandle your employees. Like dogs who are beat, they tend to turn on their owners.”
“Fascinating,” I say, a grin still tugging at the corners of my mouth.
A shadow of uncertainty crosses Mason's face as he looks at me. Clearly, he'd expected me to fall to my knees and beg for his mercy or something. Yeah, not gonna happen.
“Anyway,” Mason says, clearing his throat and working up his former bravado. “I'm willing to overlook this and not pursue charges. But, you have to stop seeing Darby. Immediately. Second, you're to close your firm. You are also required to give up your licenses and you will be barred from trading ever again. Period. These terms are non-negotiable.”
“Wow. The death penalty,” I say and feign a shudder. “How scary.”
Mason looks at me, his face etched with uncertainty. He obviously can't understand how I can be so flippant staring down the barrel of the death penalty. It's because I'm the one holding the trump card. He just doesn't know it yet.
“You should really take this seriously, Carter,” he says.
“Thanks for the advice,” I say. “And the heads up.”
“You're lucky I'm not going after your assets too,” he replies. “I'm sure you've already made more than enough money to last your lifetime. So, get out of the game and go enjoy it.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” he says. “Do we have a deal?”
I laugh in his face. “Fuck no,” I reply.
His mouth falls open and he looks at me like I've just lost my mind. Mason gathers himself, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes at me.
“I'm giving you a chance to get out of this with your home and some money,” he says. “A chance to avoid prison and lose everything.”
“And I'm telling you to shove it up your ass,” I look up toward where the hidden camera is located. “It's time.”
Mason follows my gaze and then turns back to me. “What the hell is going on.”
Rupert and Darby step into the conference room – Rupert with a smug smile on his face and Darby, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What the fuck is this?” Mason asks, his voice filled with rage.
“You're a son of a bitch, Mason,” Darby hisses. “A goddamn son of a bitch.”
She lunges toward him and though I'm tempted to let her rip his eyes out, I hold her back. I've never seen this kind of fury from Darby before. But, it's a rage blended with sadness. She realizes she's lost her brother and is now an orphan in this world. I hold her close for a moment, letting her cry into my chest. I stroke her hair and murmur a few words into her ear. Eventually, she nods and takes a seat next to me. She stares daggers at Mason and for the first time in my life, I see him look – scared. Rupert takes a seat next to me.
“To answer your question, this,” I say, “is me fulfilling the promise I made to you. I told you I was going to set your life on fire and piss on the ashes. You ready for it?”
Slipping the small remote out of my pocket, I point it at the big flat screen TV and turn it on, then hit play. There's a moment of static, before the picture resolves itself into a crystal clear, HD image of Rupert and Mason sitting on a park bench.
“What the fuck is this?” Mason asks, clearly already knowing where this is going.
On the screen, the audio is as clear as the picture.
“You have my money?” Rupert asks.
“One hundred thousand,” Mason says. “As requested.”
“I can't wait to see you bring him down,” Rupert s
ays. “Smug son of a bitch. Thinks he can fire me? Thinks he can put hands on me? I'm going to fuck him seven ways to Sunday.”
“You're going to have to testify,” Mason says.
“I'll say whatever you want me to say in court,” Rupert says. “Just give me some prepared answers and a day to memorize them. I'll put on the best fuckin' show you've ever seen.”
“Good. I'm going to need you to be convincing.”
“I can lie just as well as you can, Mason,” he says. “Maybe better.”
“Yeah, well make sure you do,” Mason says. “I'm going to be counting on it. You're going to be my star witness. When I'm done with Carter fucking Bishop, he's not going to have a pot to piss in.”
Mason hands Rupert an envelope and he opens it, taking out the bundle of cash – making sure the camera gets a good look at it. Mason quickly slaps his hands down and stuffs the cash back into the envelope.
“Count it later,” he growls. “Jesus Christ. Fucking amateur. You don't flash that shit in public.”
Rupert shrugs. “Sorry. My first time.”
“Yeah well, you better get your shit straight,” he says. “Now, wait for my call.”
Mason stands up and walks away, leaving Rupert with the envelope full of cash.
“I think we got him,” he says to the camera. “Crooked motherfucker.”
The video ends and I drop the remote on the table and look at Mason, smiling at him smugly. Mason is sitting there, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. He looks up at me, a stricken look upon his face.
“You son of a bitch,” he seethes at Rupert. “You set me up.”
Rupert chuckles. “Yeah, looks that way, huh?”
“I can explain this,” he says, trying to go into spin mode. “It's not what it looks like –”
Mason, maybe for the first time in his life, doesn't have an answer. We blindsided him so perfectly, he doesn't know what to do. It's a beautiful goddamn thing to see.
“Maybe not,” I say. “Maybe it's best if we let somebody higher up the food chain inside the DOJ decide that. I have a friend who's good friends with the Attorney General and I'm quite sure they'd be interested in seeing what one of their –”