The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark)

by VanKirk, R. Scott

  Alice’s eyes and voice were laughing. “Oh my.”

  “Oh yeah. I went though half the strings before middle-G snapped.”

  “Goodness, were you hurt?”

  “Not until after my next lesson, when I couldn’t hide my handiwork any more. Boy did I get a good walloping.”

  She looked startled. “Dear lord, you’re dad hit you?”

  “Oh yeah,” Max laughed. “You have to understand. Back then, it wasn’t such a stigma to give your kid a spanking. I have to admit, it really got my attention when I did something wrong. It never got out of control or anything, and it only took a few before I decided that listening to my dad and mom was the easier way to go.”

  He laughed again and shook his head. “I haven’t thought of that for a very long time.” Max chewed on his lower lip for a moment and looked down through the tablecloth and days past, and then looked up at Alice’s troubled face.

  “How about you? Do you play an instrument?”

  She immediately smiled a little self-consciously. “Oh no, I just sing in the church choir.”

  “You do? Sing something for me.”

  She looked down and fidgeted with her spoon. “Oh, I couldn’t, I’d be too embarrassed.”

  “Come on, just once. I bet you have a lovely singing voice.” Max searched his mind and came up with the only church song he could think of. “Sing me a little bit of ‘Amazing Grace.’”

  “No, I couldn’t”

  “Sure you can. Come on you don’t have to sing a lot.”

  She pursed her lips and then looked at him severely. “Okay, but you can’t laugh!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Cross my heart.”

  “Okay.” She paused, took a breath and sang. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…”

  She had a sweet contralto voice. She obviously wasn’t trained, but it soothed Max’s soul to hear it. “Go on, don’t stop there.”

  “Nope, that’s it. If you want to hear any more, you’ll have to sing with me.”

  “Oh.” Max’s face fell and picked up the misery it had left behind earlier.

  She grabbed his hands again. “Max, Max, look at me.”

  He looked up and met her compassionate stare.

  “Sing with me Max.”

  He shook his head. All the people he’d hurt paraded through his head. “No, I can’t”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t. You don’t know what I’ve done.” He added in a low mumble, “I don’t have the right.”

  “You don’t have the right? Max, how is your not singing going to help anybody? It would be a crime to deny the world your voice. You can’t make up for your mistakes by punishing yourself.”

  “Please, can we just drop this?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry Max.”

  “No, it’s my fault. You’re just trying to help.”

  She sat across from him with her warm hands holding his, looking sincerely at him. When he met her eyes, the only thing he could see in her face was the kindness and concern. He found himself drawn to that gaze, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

  Alice pulled her hands away from Max and raised one between them. She said softly, “I don't think that would be a good idea, hon.”

  Max sat back, frustrated and confused. He hadn't been denied by a woman in ten years; they just naturally fell into his arms, wanting to touch just a piece of his fame and power. His presumption embarrassed him. He leaned back with a red face. “Of, course. I'm sorry, Alice, I didn't mean to assume... It's just that...”

  “No Max, it's alright. You are a lovely man, but it wouldn't work out well right now.”

  Max stood up. “I'll just... I'll just pay the bill, and then I'll take you back to the hospital. I've kept you too long already.”

  When he came back, Alice asked him if he could drop her off at her house. He agreed, and they drove in an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by Alice's directions. When she finally said, “Here we go. Home sweet home,” they were pulling up in front of a small white clapboard house. It was humble and plain and well maintained, though the grass needed cutting. There were three blonde girls out playing in the yard around a rickety swing set. To Max, their ages seemed to range from maybe eight to fourteen. They stopped their play and looked distrustfully at the strange car. Alice turned to Max. “Thanks for the ride, Max.”

  He forced himself to smile. “Thanks for listening Alice, it really helped.”

  She smiled easily back. “I'm glad.” She studied his face momentarily before leaving. “We got Sunday services at eight, you should come. Be a member of the community... it helps.”

  The thought of church services made Max uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it and thanked her again before she got out of the car. Upon seeing her, the three girls’ expressions changed from caution to delight, and they ran up to Alice calling, “Momma!” They surrounded her, taking up her entire attention in a big, active group hug.

  Max smiled wistfully at the sight and drove away.

  Money

  Max stopped at the post office in the back of the grocery store and found he had a manila envelope from his accountant Tony waiting for him. Finally! Now maybe he would get some answers. He tossed the envelope in the passenger's seat of his car and headed off to the Dixie. He could scarcely believe he had the information. It had been an uphill fight to get it and given their last conversation Max had half expected that Tony would just split town with all his money. He reviewed that conversation from a week before as he drove home.

  ***

  “Don't worry about it, Max, I've got you covered.” The tinny voice coming through Max's cell phone was smooth and slick.

  Max's frustration leaked around his control and into his voice, as he paced around his faded room at the Dixie. “Tony, I'm done being a mushroom. No more keeping me in the dark and feeding me bullshit! I want an accounting of my money! I want to know how much I have, what form it's in, its liquidity, and where it's invested.”

  Tony purred like a Lucian wanna-be. “Max, what's all this sudden concern about your money for? Is this about your annuity? If you need more cash, I can up the monthly amount to whatever you want. If you want to buy something let me know, I'll get it delivered.”

  Max tried another tack. “Okay, I want a million dollars per month.”

  It didn't have the desired result. Tony said, “Max, if you need it, you'll get it, but I'll have to liquidate some assets at a less than the optimal value— you would be better off keeping it where it is. Besides, what do you need that kind of money for?”

  Max was momentarily stunned. He stopped pacing and stood sightlessly staring at the picture of a confederate soldier on the wall of his motel room. He had thrown out one million per month because it was ridiculous. He'd expected Tony to throw a fit or faint when he said it, but Tony had barely flinched! Just how much was he worth? Max shoved that question aside for a moment. “No Tony, I don't need that kind of money! I want to know how much I have and where it is invested. It's my goddamned money!”

  “Max, you've trusted me to handle your affairs all these years. From the very first, you told me you didn't want to be bothered with the money. You gave me power of attorney over your assets and I have faithfully met my fiduciary responsibilities to you. You are heavily diversified in manufacturing, distribution, construction, infrastructure, commodities, stocks, futures, and others. Why do you want to mess with all that?”

  “Why are you doing everything you can to keep me in the dark? I want to know what I'm invested in, down to the last penny, and I want it now!”

  “Well, it's going to take some time to get all that together...”

  Max shouted into the phone. “Tony, you have five days. If I don't have that report in my hand, I will find a money manager who can tell me where my money is. Do you understand me?”

  There was silence on the other side for a few long moments, and Tony said tonelessly, “Yes sir, Mr. Faust. You will h
ave that summary within five days.”

  “Good. And Tony...” Max was interrupted by the beep from his phone indicating that the call had dropped. He pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it as if his irritation was the phone's fault. He muttered, “Crap,” and resisted the urge to crush it on the floor; there wasn't a cell phone store anywhere in or near town.

  ***

  Now it was here. Max hurried into the cool air-conditioning of his room, sat on his bed and tore enthusiastically through the envelope. There was only one letter-sized piece of paper. The title on it read in bold letters: Investment Portfolio of Maximilian Faust. Beneath that title was a small grid with only five entries, each with a name, a percentage, and a value as of 6 days ago. He scanned through the list quickly.

  Investment

  %ownership

  current Value

  Cash, CD's, Bonds, Notes

  N/A

  $666,666.02

  Faust Marketing, LLC

  75%

  655,355.39

  Megabucks, Inc

  49%

  857,827.59

  Lux Lucidis, Inc

  14.1%

  3,349,666.88

  Abaddon Industries, Inc

  49%

  1,132,012.78

  Total

  $6,661,556.66

  Max was worth a little over six million dollars. Despite the number of occurrences of 666 (undoubtedly another joke of Lucian's) this lightened a load he hadn't realized he had been carrying. Given Tony's evasive behavior, Max had been half convinced that Tony was skimming so much money off of his accounts that there would be nothing left. He had hoped for a few hundred thousand dollars, enough to keep him alive for a while, but six million was more than he had hoped for. He started feeling bad about the way he’d jumped on Tony. Even if Tony was skimming, he had left Max more than enough to last him the rest of his life, even if he fully renovated his mansion here. Sadly, it was apparent Tony had known Max had been bluffing about the million dollars a month. That would leave him with no investments after six months.

  After what Max had witnessed that morning at the mansion, he had pretty much decided nothing could convince him to stay here and keep the mansion, but between knowing that he would be able to renovate that old money pit, and his conversation with Alice, he had decided to give it another go.

  He kicked himself over trying to kiss Alice, but she had made him realize that no one in this town had ever given him reason to believe they knew who he was. He could tell that they were noting a new face in town, but he had assumed that no one made a fuss because they were just totally out of the loop. It was incredibly freeing.

  Looking back at his thoughts, he realized just how badly he wanted a place where he could just be himself again. These people all had televisions and internet. In hindsight, it was obvious that they knew who he was. This was probably the only town in the US where he might be allowed to live a semblance of a normal life. That was worth fighting for, no matter how twisted his house was.

  Max puttered around in the room and found himself thinking about Alice again. She was so warm and nice. She was so pretty... but, after seeing her three girls, he realized that it was best that he didn't get caught up with her. Kids made him uneasy, and he couldn't imagine being a father. He could barely be responsible for his own life and had enough trouble just keeping himself fed and clean. No, it was definitely for the best. Maybe they could be friends.

  His thoughts whirled around that idea for a while, but hadn't advanced much when there was a pounding at the door.

  Someone shouted through the door. “Open up! Police!”

  Max froze and looked at the door with sudden dread. He tried to think why the cops would be after him. Had somebody seen Old Bone and called the police in hysterics, or perhaps, was it the narcotics squad after him for harboring a dealer? Crap. The pounding repeated.

  Max was very scared of police chief Wayne, but he also realized that there was no place to run, nothing he could do, so he forced himself to walk to the door and open it. The man standing on the other side of the door was a few inches shorter than Max, maybe a little under six feet. He had a stocky barrel-shaped build, a good-natured smile, sandy brown hair and strong arms with heavy muscles that saw use every day as a carpenter. It was his old friend Mike, standing there with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable.

  Mike opened his arms wide and said gleefully, “Hey Maxy-boy!” All Max could think was, Oh, thank God! He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to release the tension. Mike saw this and laughed out, “I really had you going there, didn't I?” He stepped up to Max, and gave him a bear hug while Max tried to shift gears.

  Max pulled back. “You jerk. You nearly gave me a heart-attack.”

  “Got a guilty conscience, hey?” said Mike slyly.

  Max huffed and stood aside to invite Mike in. Mike reached down and picked up a six-pack of Corona, which Max hadn't noticed, and came in. He pulled out the room's one chair and flopped down in it. He popped open two Coronas and handed one to Max.

  He raised his bottle. “Here's to living in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, bud.”

  Max gave a half smile and raised his bottle before taking a long swig himself. It tasted awesome going down. Until his recent binge, he hadn't had a drink in nearly two years. He had almost drunk himself to death during one terrible night of guilt and self-loathing. Since then, he had stayed away from alcohol, afraid he might succumb to the temptation to drink all his troubles away again.

  Mike eyed Max. “You're looking better than you did last time I saw you on the news. Things getting better for you?”

  Max sat on the bed, looked at his old friend, and said honestly, “I couldn't tell you if I wanted to Mike. I can't tell which way is up these days.”

  Mike solemnly put his bottle down, pointed to the ceiling and said “Up.”

  Max grimaced. “Thanks, it all makes sense to me now.”

  “Hey, no problem, what are friends for?”

  Max noticed, for the first time, that Mike looked a little rough around the edges himself. He said, “Looks like you had a hard flight.”

  Mike shook his head. “No, I decided to drive straight through.”

  Max looked at him in surprise. “What happened to flying out?”

  “I realized that I was going to need some wheels and all my tools, so I took the truck. Besides, ever since 911, flying sucks.”

  Max grinned at Mike. “Couldn't tell you. I had my own jet.”

  Now, it was Mike's turn to grimace back at Max. “Yeah, rub it in, why don't ya.”

  The two of them quickly fell into a familiar pattern of gossip and good-natured ribbing. It felt to Max like being home again. He relished every minute. After they had demolished the six-pack, Mike asked Max why he wasn't out at the mansion. Max, having been lubricated by the unaccustomed alcohol, had an evil thought that filled him with glee. He said, “Well, I was in town for some things and was just heading back out when you stopped by.”

  Mike stood up. “Well, let's go. I'm dying to see this beasty of yours.”

  The beer went right through Max so he went to relieve himself first. As he was standing there, doing his thing, he heard Mikey say, “Hey what's this? Holy crap Mike, is this real?”

  Max, who was basking in the warm glow of his buzz asked, “Is what real?”

  Mike banged open the door, right into Max's back. Max flinched and physics did the rest. “Hey! What the hell are you doing jerk! Look what you made me do!”

  Mike didn't even glance at the mess. “Let the maids worry about that.” He stuffed the net worth statement into Max's face. “Is this real, or are you just having one over on me?”

  Max frowned at Mike as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Yeah, that's what my accountant just sent me.”

  “Max, why are you messing around with some broken down mansion? Just go out and buy yourself a freaking town or something.”

  “Calm down Mike, it's not that much
money. I'm sure I was worth a lot more before everything went to hell.”

  Mike looked at Max with disbelief. “You don't think this is a lot of money?”

  Max was a little exasperated when he said, “Six million is a decent amount of money, but it's not like I'm a Rockefeller or anything.”

  “Six million?”

  “Yes, that's what it says.”

  Mike stuck the paper in Max's face. “Can't you read?” He pointed to a small line that read, “All numbers are in thousands of dollars.”

  Max looked at Mike. “No....”

  Now Max was exasperated as he said, “Think, Max. These numbers are in thousands! This says that your net worth is over six billion dollars!”

  The news hit Max with an almost audible slap. He said in a small voice, “Six billion?”

  Mike laughed with the absurdity of it all. “I can't believe you didn't know this already. How can you be so clueless that you don't know if you are worth six million or six billion?”

  Max walked the short distance to his bed and sat down. Six billion? He could pull a million a month out for the next hundred years and barely dent it. He looked at Mike and pleaded, “Mike, what am I going to do with that kind of money?”

  Mike gave him a wide, toothy grin, slapped his hands across Max's shoulder. “I'm sure we can come up with something, bud. I'm sure we can come up with something.”

  ***

  An hour later, Max and Mike were on the bed, side by side, in identical poses, on their backs with their arms behind their heads.

  Mike said, “You could start your own space program.”

  Max looked startled, “What? Space program?”

  Mike grinned. “Yeah, it's the newest thing. Every dot com billionaire is doing it.”

  “What would I want with a space ship? I don't even like to fly.”

  “Well, you could make a really big one and then send it out to mine the asteroids.”