Topher Lydon
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Marc yawned loudly as he tried to cover his mouth, wandering through the halls of the university. It was way too early in the morning by his reckoning, but he was there. Will had dropped him off first thing in the morning on his way to his new job. It beat wrestling with an unfamiliar bus system even if he was a little early for class. It was still early in the term and he was behind everyone else, and catching up would be a bitch. But in a way he was actually a university student, and i
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Brody walked through the pile of boxes that were being unloaded in his house; he lowered his sunglasses and watched as a particularly garish piece of art was taken through. "Don't tell me, a Jeff Sternosti original?" Will lowered the painting he was carrying and glanced at the chaotic splashes of colour that warred for attention on the canvas. "Yeah it was my birthday present last year," he said as he carried it through to the living room. "It's called 'Mother's Repose'."
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Canadian Politics, Will Carter had been content to be the man behind the man. Orchestrating a brilliant campaign that swept Robert Avery into a choice cabinet spot. Yet a liberal boondoggle threatens to undo good work that could be done. And when Robert suffers a heart attack, it's for William to step out of the shadows and step up, and do right thing. Except that by running for Parliament, Will comes face to face with the one enemy he never expected to face. Mister Andrew Highmore L.L.B.
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There was a sense of euphoria in the air, a feeling of victory and accomplishment. Will watched the results go up on the board as various poling stations came back to the campaign headquarters. It had been a close race, both candidates had given a tough battle for the riding but his side was now clearly winning. The candidate, standing off to one side with his daughter wrapping her arms around him, excitedly looked every inch the perfect candidate. Robert Avery was a stately man, regal a
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The frosted glass was lit from behind so that all that could be seen was the neon lights in the shape of an erotic dancer suggestively inviting patrons into the strip bar "The Brass Rail". For some with a taste for the extreme her gyrations would have been inviting, but Marc kept his head down as he pushed his way through the throngs of deviants seeking thrills at the price of dollars. Not that he was put off by it at all; he didn't have time to indulge in the oldest trade. He pulled Wil
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Did Weippert care how many lives he was destroying? Will felt like shit, he sat at his computer in the basement staring blankly at a spreadsheet that no longer held any meaning. Six thousand employees across Canada, six thousand lives. Family men that supported their children. Single mothers dependant on their pay cheques to keep going from day to day. Kids fresh out of college. Old men literally days from their retirement who had given most of their lives to Avery-Woods. Each one had a
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The darkness settled in around him and he shivered despite the blazing fire in the hearth. He felt the ache of worry for his daughter, how close she had come to being hurt and he closed his eyes to the pain of every parents nightmare, letting it flow through him, allowing it to remind him that not even he was invincible. The worry subsided, and he slumped back into his chair before the flames. He had not been fearful in a long, long time he had almost forgotten the sensation. He had just assumed
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Will passed Weippert as he exited Avery's great house, the two men eyeing each other with the caution that came with competing against one another. Will dismissed Weippert's smirk as being nothing more than satisfaction that the Tri-tech merger would be announced the next day, it was good news for all concerned, business would return to normal and things could relax. That thought soon soured as he walked into Robert Avery's study to find the man staring at the documents Weippert had just
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Will went to work; he was arriving late but didn't particularly care. Things had changed so much since for him that it was as if he was looking through the eyes of a complete stranger; distant, dispassionate. He looked at familiar faces; familiar places and they held a different meaning for him. Alicia was sitting at her desk as she watched him cross the floor toward her; staring at him sadly and he wished he could bring her into it, to tell her what was going on. But even if he did she
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Will wasn't sure he would come, and if he did how he would come or even when. All he could do was show an opportunity and give him a solid motive. He had provided a time and circumstances had provided the location, now it all depended on how desperate Bruce Weippert really was. The Shareholder's meeting was first thing in the morning, Bruce was running out of time and with the pressure on he would have to act. Whether he would accept Will's invitation to act, well that was anyone's guess
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Tyrone swung his car he had borrowed up the gravel driveway to his father's house, the last chore of the night. Coming to a halt Will made to get out, but Tyrone caught his arm, holding him back a moment. They were alone, Brody and Marc had gone back to the house with the security car Will had talked Tyrone into accompanying him to give the signed papers to his father. He didn't trust his Jeep, and needed a drive. He looked at Will a moment before speaking, "What we did tonight was wrong
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"You read body language?" Rena Allison asked, a curious smile appearing on her face. "That's a useful talent." Will shrugged, smiling a bit. "Difficult to learn, but invaluable in gauging people; useful yes, but not the only method I rely on. I learned a lot of them from my father, he was in the army and seemed to think it was a handy skill to learn." "Well," Rena smiled, "you'll have to give me a demonstration later and impress us with your skill." "I'm not that good at
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Marc leapt over a low handmade couch, grabbing from the bookshelf the shirt he had borrowed from Will's wardrobe with the crest on it. He loved the feel of the real cotton shirt as he slipped it on. He had only a few minutes to get ready before he was supposed to be picked up by Libbet, and he still had to wrestle with the green tie. He fumbled with it once or twice, till he closed his eyes and remembered the lesson in tie tying that his mother had given him all those years before. Over under, u
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He turned, and noticed Marc had remained behind. He should have been surprised, but with everything that had passed between them, their failed attempt at a platonic friendship, it was no surprise that their final goodbye hadn't been lasting. "Will?" Marc asked, seeing the man he had come to know and trust over the past few weeks look his way. "I think we should go for a walk," Will said pushing his hands deeper into the heavy woollen great coat. "I think the cold air will do us b
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Tuxedo and tails, a classic that had never truly been replaced since its conception in the mid-1800's. A classic elegance that could set a tone of style, and inject a flare of grace into any social affair. Robert adjusted the tartan silk bow tie about his neck that matched his waistcoat, aware that he genuinely preferred the thick material's lines to that of a dressy suit. Somehow it felt right to him, as if in another lifetime he had been bred to it. Overtop his greatcoat, balanced across his s
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Will stared after him until he had entered the house. "It's a shame...." he murmured, wondering at what could have been if the situation hadn't been so complicated, so screwed up. However, he remembered Marc's anger at his situation, and sighed. He pulled his overcoat tightly around him, and set off down the path again, now by himself, mulling over his thoughts. Ahead, a figure in the cold haze of the night and the fog approached him. There was no mistaking Robert Avery's
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Ending back up at a bar again, Marc had made his rounds. The man in the Elton John costume was worth a glance anyway. That had made him laugh a little, but it didn't seem to offset his mood in any way, shape or form. No matter how hard he tried to laugh, there still was that huge reminder of why he was there at the party: Libbet had wanted him to come so badly. He was growing annoyed with himself, this was all his fault, he was the one who was screwing things up. If he could only put his own nee
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He sat in silence in the passenger seat, almost impassive. They hadn't talked since they had left the party, the Volkswagen cruising along an almost deserted Don Valley Parkway. At nearly three am, there wasn't much traffic heading in their direction. It was quiet in the car, neither really saying anything to each other; the tension was so thick that Marc was sure it could be cut with a knife. He stared out of the window and wondered how his life had become so messed up. But he had alway
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Marc had slept late, after the shock of the night before had knocked him cold almost as soon as he had fallen into the bed, grateful to finally be able to sleep. But he had awoken with a start in unfamiliar surroundings and it had taken him a moment to remember where he was. Will was already up, the clattering in the kitchen said he was doing something, and when Marc stumbled down the stairs he saw that Will was doing dishes. Jared sitting on the couch ribbing him about being domesticate
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Will was driving; the telephone call had come in just as he was getting ready to go. It had been quicker for him to drive Robert Avery to the hospital and he had readily agreed. The Jeep wound its way through the city streets as Robert sat with his hands folded in his lap staring at the road ahead. He hadn't said anything since he had agreed to let Will drive him to the hospital. Will left him alone, the message had been vague; there had been some kind of accident, that Libbet and her bo
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It rained, as it so often had before, the drops hammering down upon the outdated model SUV as it ploughed its way over the rugged countryside. The Land Rover had never quite lost its usefulness in a climate that seemed to want to stay as rugged as it had the day it was discovered by John Cabot all those centuries before. With the constant snowfalls cars were at risk from being stuck in the fields, and as it melted, the mud seemed to suck at everything, which left the only reliable means of trans
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The subway car was uncharacteristically crowded that evening on his way home, and its passengers were pressed together into the close confines of the train like mixed vegetables stuffed into a can. And Will hated it; he regretted again having to leave his Jeep with Jared, but for some strange reason the Jeep refused to go anywhere that morning. The stubborn vehicle had been plaguing him with an annoying yellow engine light on his dash that he had tapped a few times in the vain hope that it would
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They stamped inside out of the cold, Will leading the way through the small entryway into the kitchen as he kicked his shoes off. He fingered through the mail Jared had left on the side seeing if there was anything interesting. Aside from bills and a Reader's Digest contest form there was nothing. He glanced back at Marc who was fumbling with the laces to his heavy Doc Martins, and grinned as he took off his bomber and hung it up. "It's not much," Will admitted, "but it's comfortable."
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He hadn't had much luck the afternoon before, but a new day always brought with it a renewed sense of determination, and for Will, that sense of determination was for him to get to the bottom of what was going on. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially in a matter that he saw as his personal domain. When someone went over his head he still needed to know about it. He sat at his desk tapping a pencil against his chin as he reviewed the computerized staff records. The database w
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Saturday morning was something Will usually sought to avoid, but he awoke early for no particular reason. He stood in the kitchen window overlooking the snow-filled driveway holding a mug of coffee and wondered how he was going to clear it by himself. It had been a particularly cold winter, but spring had seemed set to stay, most of the snow had gone and the weather had been almost like summer. That was, until the blizzard changed everything. Old man winter content to bury baby spring un
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