Carter's Recourse - 4. Chapter 4

The BMW 318Ci rolled up the gravel driveway, quietly purring to a stop as the driver shut off the engine and got out of the car. He swallowed nervously, shooting the cuffs of his tuxedo and adjusting the bow tie for the hundredth time that night.

He reached up and teased his hair a second making sure he looked perfect in the tinted windows of the car. His mother would have been proud... his smile diminished at that thought, but he did his best to hide it behind his cheerful eyes. He wasn't going to let anything upset him that night.

It was "the night", the Shangri-La, the one defining night that high school kids build their entire academic careers towards. It was the moment of truth, a rite of passage that made a boy a man... at least that had been part of the speech Will had given him before he had leant him the keys to the Beamer.

For Peter McCormick, or just Peter to his friends, the actual event that would make him a man that night wasn't exactly going to happen. Sure he was on the doorstep of the prettiest girl in school, sweaty palms and a corsage turning nervously in his hand. But then this wasn't exactly his idea.

The aging man who answered the door was known across the country. He was the leader of the country's official opposition; Bob Hesston was a distinguished, stern gentleman. He was a staunch conservative and a bastion upon which the Christian Coalition was founded. And he intimidated Peter intensely.

"Uh...hi..." he stammered, wondering again if his bow tie was straight.

The leader of Canada's official opposition, the conservative party, stared down at him; his eyes bored holes into the young man, weighing and measuring him. No doubt he was trying to work out if this short, blond, blue-eyed kid was good enough to be taking his daughter to a gala.

Yeah, right; as if anyone was good enough to take Becky Hesston out.

"You must be Peter," Hesston said, his eyebrow rising as if he expected Peter to confirm his suspicion.

"Yes, Mister Hesston...sir," Peter stammered out again; he needed to get a grip. It was just another guy; he put his trousers on one leg at a time, right? Yeah, sure, while he signed a bill that set civil liberties back a hundred years and promoted a fundamentalist agenda...

"Rebecca will be down in a moment, won't you come in?" Hesston smiled in a wolfish manner, and Peter had serious thoughts about just abandoning the whole plan and making a run for it. He could make it to the states before this guy called the RCMP on him... right?

"So..." Hesston said as he smiled a the young man, "I hear you're attending Carleton University, something about an artistic scholarship?"

"Yes..." Peter began to relax, pretty normal questions, he could handle them.

"Classics, right?"

"No, graphic design..." Peter winced when he realized he'd said it. It was true though, he was proud of it...

"Right..." The older man was looking at him suspiciously now.

Peter struggled quickly for something that would reaffirm his masculinity in Hesston's eyes, "So, aren't the Blue Jays doing well this year?"

The leader of the opposition frowned and nodded, "Definitely; you follow baseball?"

"Oh yes," Peter said in relief; when in doubt go with the local sports team, never failed. "They stand a real chance of winning the Stanley Cup this year...."

The second he'd said it, he realized he must have said something wrong because the dark look of suspicion was back on Hesston's face, but before he could say anything about it, a beautiful young woman walked down the stairs wearing a beautiful dress and smiling sweetly.

"Hello, Peter," she said with a smile as she crossed the hall to him.

"You look beautiful," Peter admitted truthfully, glad that her arrival had spared him further cross-examination by a member of Parliament who had to be onto them by now. If he wasn't then Peter should go out and buy a lottery ticket, luck like that shouldn't be wasted.

"Thank you," Becky said with a slight blush as she smoothed out the front of her beautiful black dress. Simple yet elegant, Peter liked the way the seamstress had tapered it into an almost tulip-like flute.

"I love that dress," he said, shaking his head and looking at it; and realizing Hesston was staring at him again he fished out the corsage. "Here, I got this for you."

"Oh, it's beautiful," she said, pulling it out and pinning it to the dress.

"I didn't know what you'd be wearing so I decided to go with a white orchid, they go with anything..." He stopped and glanced at Becky's father, "Or so the woman in the... uh... store told me."

Becky's eyes widened in surprise as she quickly took his arm, "We're going to be late, we should go..."

Hesston looked at the pair of them and shook his head, "Well, don't be too late." He looked at Peter, "And I would tell you to respect my daughter, but somehow I doubt that is going to be much of a problem."

Peter had a sinking feeling in his stomach; Becky's father was onto them. The whole plan was doomed and they were going to wind up spending a long night playing scrabble or something in the den under Hesston's chaperoning eye.

"Well thanks, Dad," Becky said with a forced smile. "Come on, Peter, we should go." She all but dragged him out of the house.

Once the car was safely on the street Peter allowed himself a chance to breathe, "He was so onto us!"

Becky pouted, "I thought you were going to Carleton University to study acting."

"I did the best I could," he shot back, sparing a glance up at the rearview mirror. "I'm not exactly Tom Cruise, you know..."

"Yeah," she said with a smile, "you were more like Penelope Cruz."

"Hey!" Peter replied with a laugh, "I wasn't that bad; at least give me Nicole Kidman... I do have some style."

He reached down and flipped on the CD player and wound down the windows letting the dance music flow about them as the car swept into the heart of Ottawa. Peter was a good driver, careful and cautious, but every so often he enjoyed a bit of speed.

"So you're sure about this?" he asked looking over at her. "The Gala's going to be fun."

"I went to last year's with John Douglas; besides, this is your night." She smiled at her best friend, "You've been there for me, least I can do is be there for you."

He grinned at her, "Yeah, but I've got cold feet, and we are kinda overdressed for clubbing."

She flipped down the passenger-side mirror and began to apply makeup, "I did not spend a month planning this night, and convincing my daddy to let me go out with you, just to have you get cold feet. You are going; besides I want to see a bit of boy-on-boy action."

"You're twisted." Peter chuckled as he relaxed into the seat of the car, "You're the only girl I know that would get off on two guys kissing."

"I'm a good catholic school girl, I'm supposed to be twisted." She smiled at him playfully, "Besides, you were a choir boy..."

"Please," he said making a left turn. "Spare me the ‘you should be used to being on your knees' jokes, they demean gay men everywhere." He glanced at her with a flash of playful blue eyes, "I'd like to think I'm cute enough to get more than a dirty old priest."

"I've never seen you try to pick anyone up," Becky replied fussing with her dress and taking off the corsage. "For all I know you could like dirty old priests--what kind of guy are you into?"

Peter laughed at her, "Well, you'll see tonight I guess. I don't really know..."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Becky asked with a smile. "You're hiding something from me, Peter Theodore McCormick."

"Gee, you think?" Peter replied as he looked over at her pouting face. She was giving up her prom just so that he wouldn't have to go to his first gay club alone. He might as well tell her.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" he asked, almost sounding desperately pleading.

"Okay," she said, giving him that apprehensive look.

"You swear?" he pressed, as the car crossed the bridge heading out of Vanier.

"Alright, I swear, just tell me already," she turned in the seat and grinned. "It's not Sam Belmont is it?"

"No," Peter replied in frustration, "It isn't Captain I'm-too-busy-admiring-myself-to-actually-remember-I-am-playing-football Belmont."

"Then who?" Becky smiled at him.

"All right, you know Tyler..."

"Tyler?" She gaped at him, "The guy who thought Canada was another way to say Wisconsin?"

Peter blushed, "Yeah well... he's really sweet..."

"The guy's a complete moron, he didn't even graduate, he's going to be working in that convenience store forever... you find Tyler attractive?" Becky grinned at him.

"Well, there's more to life than brains," Peter replied defensively. "Beside, he's always been nice to me."

"Yes, but you have to admit he's not exactly the sharpest pencil." She turned back to face out the windscreen of the car at the city lights, "You really like Tyler?"

"I can't explain it," Peter said still blushing. "He's just nice... and have you seen him in the campus gym?"

"You actually went to a gym?" Becky said with a wry grin. "I thought you were excused because of your..."

"Ok, so maybe I wasn't actually in the class," Peter shot back, "but I still stopped by there occasionally... hello, hot jocks half-naked..."

"Don't do that," Becky said scrunching up her nose. "The lisp thing doesn't suit you."

"Yeah, you're right," Peter admitted. "Makes me sound funny. So where do you want to go?" he asked, leaning down to glance out of the window of the car at the city around them.

"We should find a bar, get you to strut your stuff..." Becky nodded thoughtfully, "Find a place to park in the market and we can figure stuff out from there."

"Ok," Peter replied cheerfully.

* * *

"...Good night!" the last calls as Tyler smiled at his family, pulling the door closed and stepping out into the cool summer night.

"Do you need a ride?" his older sister asked as she stamped across the pavement towards where her car was parked on the quiet Gatineau street.

Tyler contemplated the offer, but shook his head as he stuck his hands into his pockets, "I should just take the bus..."

"You sure?" she asked, giving him a maternal look she had inherited straight from their mom. She had it down perfectly; Lizzie was going to make a great mom one day. She rested her crossed arms on the roof of her little Saturn, "We could go get one of those latte coffees on the way back to your apartment, give us a chance to talk."

She seemed a little too eager and Tyler wondered if she had an ulterior motive, his mom no doubt using her best spy to find out more about her mysterious son's secret life. The one that he hid from her in the midst of the big city.

She gave him one of her patented big-sister grins, "Get in the car so I can kidnap you. I don't want you riding the buses this late at night."

He gave a defeated shrug and walked around to the passenger side; sliding into the dark interior he wrapped his windbreaker closer about him to ward out the chill of the night air.

Lizzie got into the driver's seat and started the car after a few tries. It was a new car, but even still it gave her problems. Typical Saturns, they were cheap cars for a reason. Give Tyler five minutes under the hood and he could probably set it right. But then Lizzie never let anyone but her husband near her car.

He ran a hand through his messy sandy-brown hair that seemed to do what it wanted to do when it chose to do anything at all. His sister laughed at him as she turned the car out onto the dark street and began to drive him back to the inner city.

He sat quiet for a time, feeling small and drawing himself deeper into the folds of the coat that was two sizes too large for him. It had been his dad's when he had worked for a mechanics, which was before he had become the manager of a grocery store. Tyler remembered those early days, the cramped apartment and the hot dog suppers. They'd never been rich, but back then they'd barely been above the poverty line. Least now his parents were happily middle-class.

"So," Lizzie said as she slowed for a flashing yellow light before driving on, "what's new?"

"Nothing really," Tyler admitted with a sigh, resting his chin on his chest and staring forlornly out of the window.

"It's just..." Lizzie looked at him, and again he was struck by how beautiful his sister had become. Raven black hair showing their mother's Latin heritage, those exotic eyes and beautiful smile. She made a movie star look plain. "we're a bit worried about you."

"Why?" Tyler asked. "I have a job, I live on my own."

"You work overnights at the convenience store..." Lizzie sounded a bit tense, hoping she wasn't pushing. Her brother was a stubborn guy, and didn't like people prying into his life, but she felt compelled to say something. "Mom is scared to death..."

"I'm fine," Tyler said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched the car pass a couple of homeless guys crammed into a bus shelter out of the night. He shivered again; it would be good to get home, where he could sit by the air conditioner and not think of the night.

Lizze looked across at him as she searched his face with her eyes, "Have you thought about going back to school, get good grades, maybe go to college..."

Tyler shrugged, "And do what? Besides, you know Mom and Dad can't afford to send me. I might take some night classes or something--maybe when I get switched to days at the store... but I'm not exactly smart to begin with."

Lizzie turned the car towards the Inter-provincial Bridge, "Have you thought about leaving the city?"

"Like you did?" Tyler asked with an almost bitter tone. "Yeah, I thought about it, but go where? I just don't think I could uproot like you did."

"Bill's a good man, I couldn't say no," Lizzie said sounding apologetic.

Bill Blanchard was nearly twice Lizzie's age, and when she had first announced she was engaged there had been a sigh of relief from their mother. But the moment the forty-year-old man had been introduced to the family Tyler had been sure his father had a heart attack. Not only was he older, but he lived in Maine--a long way from Ottawa, Ontario.

But no one doubted how much Bill loved Lizzie; he fawned over her, and shortly after they had been married he'd bought her a big house in the small town they lived in. Pretty decent setup, if you could get it. Not that Lizzie was a gold digger, she loved Bill too, but still it meant she had escaped the city.

"I like my life," Tyler said and he meant it. He loved working at the 7/11 where he was the night manager. He was left pretty much to his own thoughts, no one bothered him and no one bossed him around. He played it safe, about as safe as anyone could play it in a convenience store in Ottawa. Now, after the end of the school year he was going to have a lot of time to spend there. Maybe pick up the day shifts at last.

Lizzie knew her brother. He looked thin, like he'd lost weight since they'd last seen each other at Christmas. There was a sadness of utter defeat about him which she felt was due to his last report card, which had crushed his spirits. It doomed him to his life and there was nothing Lizzie could think of that would raise his spirits.

It wasn't that Tyler was stupid, he just learned differently and it took him a bit longer to pick some stuff up. When she'd been living at home she'd been tutoring him and he was really bright and eager to learn, asking all sorts of questions. It was just that in a school system that was overstretched, teachers had no time to give to a guy that took a little more effort to pick things up.

"Want to go get a drink somewhere?" she asked him out of the blue.

Tyler blinked at her, "What?"

"Do you want to go get a drink?" she asked again. "I know you're not 21, but if we're smart and hit one of the bars down on Bank Street you might not get carded."

"This isn't the States," he reminded her, "we're allowed in at 19 here."

He glanced away considering it, no doubt weighing it against just going home and wallowing. Well, Lizzie wasn't about to let her brother wallow; he deserved a chance to smile, to get cheered up. It was now her mission.