Gap Year - 102. Chapter 102

April 28, 2004

Malibu, CA

Will

“Curtis Buck is dead,” I mused. “Good fucking riddance.” The man was a blot on society, an awful and evil person. There was no sadness in my heart, only relief.

“How did he die?” my father asked. His comment brought me out of my own introspective thoughts and focused me on the others in the room. Travis was completely stone-faced, which didn’t surprise me, because he had mastered hiding his emotions. I couldn’t get a sense for what he was feeling underneath that façade, because his shields were that strong. That told me there were some deep undercurrents running through him, which was no surprise. Jake looked vindicated, and possibly a little nervous, while my father had gone into his full-blown crisis mode, where any attempt to read him was difficult, and any attempt to question him would evoke an unpleasant response.

“They found him in his office. It looked like he had been beaten up pretty badly, and his office was trashed,” Travis said.

“So he was beaten to death?” I asked for clarity, trying not to enjoy the visual of someone doing that.

“No,” Travis said calmly. “He died of a gunshot wound to the head.”

“Could he have killed himself?” my father asked hopefully. Why was he so worried about this? Did he have a hit put out on Curtis? If he did, he’d worked awfully damn fast to make that happen.

“I don’t know,” Travis said.

“Alright, well here’s the deal,” Dad said, going into full power mode. “None of us should speak to anyone about this. In about an hour, we’ll be fully lawyered up.”

“I’ll help you with that,” Jake said, then focused on Travis. “Thank you for sharing the letter with me.”

“It was Will’s idea, but you’re welcome,” Travis said. I sensed that Dad and Jake were both task-oriented, so I opted to give them some space to work.

“I’m going to call Grand and let him know,” I said. Dad nodded to acknowledge my plan, then Travis and I went back to our room. I was on the phone to Escorial as soon as we got behind the closed door.

“Hello,” Grand said affably as he answered the phone.

“Curtis Buck was killed today,” I said bluntly. “We just found out.”

There was a pause as he digested that information. “Interesting,” he said.

“He was apparently beaten up pretty badly, but he died from a gunshot wound,” I said.

“Do you have any idea how this happened?” Grand asked.

“No,” I said. “Dad and Jake are here and they’re working on lining up a legal team for us.”

“That is wise, but is there some reason to anticipate that you four are suspects?” he asked, his backhanded way of asking if one of us had done it.

“Well, Travis was at Buck Mansion today and saw Curtis, so I’m guessing they’ll want to talk to him, at least,” I said, glancing over at the windows where Travis was staring out at the water. “I need to go.”

“I will let Stefan know,” he said, and ended our call.

I walked over to Travis and put my arm around his shoulder, and felt his hand as he rested it on my waist. “You okay?”

“Kinda trippy,” he said. “I’m glad he’s dead, and this makes my life probably a whole lot better, but it’s still sad.”

“Do you have happy memories of times with him?” I asked, trying to figure out why he would feel sorrow.

He chuckled. “Not really.” We stood there for a bit, while I said nothing, waiting for him to talk more about it if he wanted to. “I guess in the end I’m worried about what a freak show this will become.”

“Freak show?” I asked.

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Curtis Buck murdered at the Buck Mansion is a big news story.”

“Duh,” I said, thinking about it.

“There’s going to be a bunch of reporters asking questions, and there’s going to be an investigation,” he said.

“And you’ll be questioned, because you went there today,” I said.

He looked at me, horrified. “They’ll think I did it!”

“I think it’s more accurate to say they’ll make you a suspect,” I said. “That’s why Dad and Jake are lawyering up.”

“I should probably get someone to represent me,” he mused. “I should call my lawyer.”

“Why don’t you talk to Jake first,” I said. “They’re thinking of you, too. Besides, you’ll need someone who’s good at defense cases, not an estate attorney.” That last line was kind of a joke, so he chuckled.

“I’m going to call Big and see if they have any more details,” he said.

“Have you talked to your mother since your birthday dinner?” I asked.

“You think she did it?” he asked me, and looked horrified.

“I have no idea,” I said. “I just wondered if anyone had told her.”

“Maybe I’ll call her first,” he said.

“I’m going to go downstairs and get some fresh air,” I said. I gave him a nice kiss and left to give him some space to make his phone calls.

I walked downstairs and out onto the deck and was surprised to see my father there, just finishing up a phone call. “How’s Travis?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Weird. He’s calling his mother, then he’s going to call Big back.”

He paced back and forth a few times, then took a seat at the table. I grabbed a couple of beers, then handed him one as I sat down across from him. “I need to know if you had anything to do with Curtis Buck’s death,” he said. He was in his full problem-solving mode, and he was intense, throwing out his maximum power posture. Unfortunately for him, I was largely immune to it.

“Did you?” I asked. He glared at me, I raised an eyebrow, then sat back, popped open my beer, and took a swig. It was hilarious to see how frustrated he was that I didn’t immediately bend to his will. He sat there for a few minutes, as if contemplating what to do, then opened his beer and took a drink.

“No,” he said.

“No?” I challenged, because he didn’t seem very convincing.

“No,” he said, then sighed. “I was planning something, but it wasn’t implemented yet.” That meant that he’d probably been reaching out to his less-than-reputable contacts, but evidently he hadn’t set it in motion yet.

“I had nothing to do with it,” I said, answering his question. “Travis went to the Buck Mansion today.”

“He went up there? His guard let him?” he asked, outraged.

“Travis drove himself to school today, then went over to get some of his things. Curtis promised him that he’d be safe, and it sounds like they exchanged a few meaningless remarks,” I said. “I found out from Zach, because he was up there too.”

“Do you think he did it?” Dad asked.

“I don’t think either one of them did,” I said. “Zach came by because he was upset. Taylor dumped him.”

“Why did she do that?” he asked.

“He told her that she had to make a choice between him and Curtis,” I said, then paused for effect. “She chose Curtis.”

“That’s rough,” he said, showing some sympathy for Zach, which was something I’d never thought he’d do. Then again, I was surprised that I felt so benignly towards Zach, myself.

“You want to tell me why Jake came down here?” I asked. I could see his eyes start to dart about, which meant he was about to bullshit me. “And don’t give a bunch of crap about how he desperately wanted to bond with Travis.”

He sighed, something he did a lot when he talked to me. I tried not to laugh at him. “If I tell you, it stays between us.”

“It stays between us,” I vowed. He looked at me, like he was going to ask me for some other bona fides, but realized that was enough.

“Jake was the one who beat Curtis up, but he didn’t kill him,” Dad said. I pondered that for a bit, then shook my head. “What?”

“I’m thinking about how Zach went to Charlottesville and beat the shit out of Wade’s cousin, and when I called him on it, he told me that’s how guys like him handled shit like that,” I said. “Sounds like Jake did the same thing.”

“It’s still insanely stupid,” he grumbled.

“Maybe we just don’t have enough testosterone,” I joked.

“I’m betting that’s not it,” he said, smiling ruefully. What we didn’t say was that it was probably a class thing, and that made me feel like an uncomfortable elitist. Jake and Zach took things into their own hands, while my father and I were more likely to hire someone to do our dirty work.

“No wonder you were arguing,” I said. “What possessed him to do that?”

“I think it was mostly what Curtis did to Travis, Sierra, and Taylor, but also what he did to Jake,” Dad said. “Then at that dinner, Curtis sat there like he was the king of the world, blithely announcing that he’d ruined Jake’s army career like Jake was an expendable peon.”

“And he paid no consequences for it,” I concluded.

“Until today,” Dad said. “I don’t know if they’ll even find out Jake went up there. He’s been really quiet and withdrawn since that dinner, so I think he spent most of his time planning this assault out.” He would know how to circumvent the security systems at the Buck Mansion, or at least he’d have as good an idea as anyone.

“When we walked up to your room, you were yelling at Jake about coming down here to meet with Curtis,” I said. “Travis heard that.”

“Shit,” he said.

“Another good reason for volume limits,” I said with a smile.

“Sometimes I have a problem with that,” he grumbled, making me laugh. “I’ll let Jake know, and he can talk to Travis and tell him what he wants him to know.” I nodded to acknowledge that course of action.

“So when they investigate this, they’ll find that Travis and Zach were there,” I said with a grimace.

“At least we know none of the people in this house did it,” Dad said.

“Stef and Grand wouldn’t have engineered something, would they?” I asked.

“No,” he said firmly. “They were too focused on playing nice to orchestrate Curtis’s murder.” He was probably right, but I was never willing to underestimate either one of those men.

“I’m going to go check on Travis,” I said. “Let’s see if we can get Coraline to make dinner for us. We can stay in.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

I went into the kitchen to find Coraline sitting at the table reading a magazine. “I do take breaks,” she said in a bitchy way.

“I’m glad you do,” I answered. “When you’re done, you think you can make dinner? There’s four of us.”

“I’ll throw something together,” she said, and kept reading her magazine. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the kitchen then headed up to my room. I usually got along better with the cook. I found Travis sitting on the couch, staring off into space.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“I had to call my mom about fifteen times before she finally answered,” he grumbled. “She told me she was glad he was dead.”

“Well isn’t everyone?” I teased, getting a very small smile from him.

“Not Taylor,” he said. “I talked to Big. They took her to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” I asked.

“Yeah, the psych ward, or whatever they call it these days,” he said. “She totally melted down.”

“Did this happen before or after Curtis was killed?” I asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” he asked.

“It’s kind of important to figure out the timeline here, because somebody killed him,” I said, then opted for a direct approach. “You didn’t do it, or have it done, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t do that,” he said, almost a shout. He was a good actor, but this response was too genuine for it to be a pose.

“Good,” I said, and smiled. “Neither did I.”

He rolled his eyes at me and frowned. “You should check with Zach. He’s the one who called the ambulance.”

“He was there?” I asked, blinking. “He came here after he left.”

“Looks like he went back there,” Travis said. It bothered me that he was so completely disinterested in this.

“Well someone killed him, and anyone who was there will be a suspect,” I said. “I’m just trying to figure out who those people were.”

“Isn’t that what the cops are supposed to do?” he asked. His obtuseness finally annoyed me.

“Look, dipshit, what if the person who did it decides that it’s easy to frame you for it,” I said. “So you can stick your head in the sand, but when they come at you, they’ll catch you flat-footed.”

“You think Zach would frame me?” he asked naively.

“No, but I think Taylor might,” I said. “It’s best to assume that she hates you as much as you hate her.”

“Then she hates my fucking guts,” he growled.

“It’s time to try to gather data,” I said. He rolled his eyes at me. A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. “Come in!”

The door opened and Jake came in, followed by my father. “I need to talk to you guys,” Jake said. He was acting really strangely, like he was depressed and defeated, yet I could feel the rage burning underneath that veneer.

“Sure, bro,” Travis said warmly. Jake smiled weakly, and he grabbed a chair. My father pulled the other chair over so he was next to Jake, as if he was trying to prop him up. Travis and I sat on the couch. Jake’s eyes were darting around, and he kept opening and closing his mouth, like he wanted to talk but he couldn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, because Jake was acting totally weird. He sighed, and strangely enough, that seemed to clear his mind a bit.

“I beat the shit out of Curtis today, but I didn’t kill him,” Jake said, blurting it out.

“Cool,” Travis said casually. “I’m jealous.” We both smiled at Jake, trying to send him positive vibes, but it was like he didn’t even hear Travis.

“I have been so full of rage and hate since your party. I tried to control it, but I couldn’t,” Jake said, spewing out what seemed like a stream of consciousness. “The rage, my inner monster, was just too strong.”

“It’s alright,” I said in a soothing way, but he ignored me and kept on with his tirade.

“Every time I fought to jam that demon back in the bottle, I’d think of how Curtis had ruined my life in the army, and he’d come roaring back, even stronger than before,” Jake said. His eyes were fiery, so consumed was he. “I thought about Dave, the dude I was busted having sex with, a horny guy who was just having fun and ended up with a DD because of him.”

“DD?” Travis asked.

“Dishonorable Discharge,” Dad explained.

“I remember my disciplinary hearing, when they poured shame on me and drummed me out of the army, and I remember poor Dave going through the same thing. And I remember going to Dave’s funeral two years later after he killed himself. The stigma was too much for him to bear,” Jake said. He was all but sobbing as he said this. I sat there, horrified, as he all but melted down in front of us. My father put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and kept it there, using that physical contact to give him strength. “At the funeral, his father lunged at me and threw me out of the service because I had been the other person involved when he was outed.”

“Shit,” I heard myself say. My father squeezed his hand on Jake’s shoulder to try to steady him, but it only seemed to help a little bit.

“I thought about how Curtis all but killed Dave, and how he destroyed my army career and my relationship with my parents, although that wasn’t all that great to begin with, and the rage just consumed me. Then I find out you’re my half-brother,” he said to Travis, “and I hear about how he was totally willing to kill you just to use your estate to pay off his own idiotic mistakes.”

“They’re not the only lives he ruined,” I spat out bitterly.

“They’re not,” Jake confirmed. “He hurt so many people. And the anger just took control of me. I had to do something. I just had to do something.”

“It’s alright,” Dad said soothingly, and rubbed Jake’s back.

Jake shook his head like he was trying to get rid of his negative thoughts, and I thought it was funny that Travis had done that same thing when he was trying to get control of his emotions. “I wanted to hurt him, and I wanted to do it personally. It needed to be visceral,” Jake said, sounding almost psychotic. “I planned it out. I figured out how to defeat the security at the Buck Mansion and timed it for when his guard went on his break.”

“So no one knew you were there,” I mused.

“I really don’t think so,” Jake said, but he was on a roll, and it seemed like he was racing to get his story out as quickly as he could. “I got there and walked into his office, shocking the shit out of him.”

“I’ll bet,” Travis said, visualizing the scene.

“He asked me what the fuck I wanted, and I slammed my fist into his face. I just beat the shit out of him, and he was a total pussy, cowering behind his arms, screaming for his guard,” Jake said. “When he begged me to stop, pleaded with me, I finally let up.”

“What was he like when you left?” I asked.

“He was on the floor in a fetal position, trying to protect himself,” Jake said. “I kicked him hard in the ribs on my way out.”

“How badly was he injured?” my father asked, a better question than the one I’d posed.

“He was pretty bloody, and he’ll have some serious bruises, and probably a broken bone or two,” Jake said, then smiled slightly. “Well, he would have had some bruises.”

He stopped talking and we all stared at him, and as we did, it seemed like he magically calmed down. “And how do you feel now?” I asked.

He looked at me and nodded in a sage-like way. “Better.”

Travis chuckled, and so did I, which got a dirty look from my father. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, being protective of Jake.

“I’m just thinking about how you hear stories of people who kick someone’s ass and they feel guilty about it, and have all these regrets, but you kick Curtis Buck’s ass, and you feel great afterwards,” Travis said.

“True that,” Jake said, and actually smiled. “My therapist tried to coach me through the aftermath of your dinner, but it just didn’t work. I think this did.”

“Let’s see your hands,” I said. He held them out and they didn’t look bruised or mauled. I looked at him curiously.

“Gloves,” he answered. “They shield the hands, and they prevent fingerprints.”

“Clever,” Travis said, nodding.

My father’s cell phone buzzed with a text message. “Dinner is ready.”

“Cool,” I said, but was mildly annoyed that Coraline didn’t text me. I mean, I was the one who asked her to make dinner. I shrugged it off and went down to enjoy a really good meal.

April 29, 2004

Malibu, CA

Will

“You know, you really don’t have to go to school today,” I said.

“I have a test today, and I already pushed my teachers enough when I vanished for a month,” he said.

“Yeah, but your father died yesterday,” I said. If ever there was a good excuse to skip school, that was it.

“He wasn’t my father,” he insisted strongly.

“OK, but everyone else thinks he is,” I said. He glared at me. “I’m just wondering how it’s going to look when you breeze into school like nothing happened.”

His anger faded as he contemplated my words. He’d been annoyed with me when he’d thought I was trying to convince him to just take advantage of Curtis’s death to take a day off, but now he knew that I was thinking of his high school public image, he was willing to pay attention to me. “Everyone knows I hated Curtis,” he said. “If I don’t show up, they’ll think I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

“Or they’ll think you were clever for milking it for a day off,” I suggested. “You could mourn and grieve in the waves.” I gestured to the windows where we could see the ocean quite clearly, and the waves looked pretty good.

“You’re an evil bitch,” he said, smiling at me. I laughed, then we threw on some sweats and t-shirts and went down to grab some breakfast.

Coraline gave us annoyed looks and just motioned for us to sit down. I turned on the news. “It was peaceful here before you got here,” she said.

“Story of my life,” I snipped, and turned up the volume. My timing was good, because the news flipped to a picture of the Buck Mansion. “Hey,” I said, nudging Travis and gesturing to the television.

“Last night, Curtis Buck was shot in his home in Pacific Palisades,” the reporter said. “Reliable sources indicate the police are trying to determine if he was murdered or if it was self-inflicted.”

“Curtis Buck previously ran Buck Industries, did he not?” the news anchor at the station asked.

“He did, but was recently forced to sell the assets of the company,” the reporter noted. “He was accused by his youngest son, Travis, of mismanaging the funds of the company, and that precipitated Buck Industries’ insolvency.”

“Sounds like his son was right,” the anchor said, then changed the topic. “John Kerry continues to campaign today in New Hampshire…”

“Look how famous you are,” I teased Travis.

“Fuck you,” he said, shaking his head. “Probably a good idea to stay out of the spotlight today.”

“Told you,” I joked smugly. Coraline put food down in front of us abruptly. “Thanks,” I said pleasantly. She said nothing, but instead walked out of the kitchen.

“She doesn’t like you,” Travis said.

“Evidently,” I said, rolling my eyes. We ate fast, then we stood up and I stopped him and made him look me in the eyes. “I love you.”

He smiled back at me. “I love you too.” He leaned in and kissed me, creating an amazing connection between us. We just stood there, lovingly but not passionately making out.

“Not in my kitchen,” Coraline snapped, ending our happy moment.

“Excuse me?” I asked, now thoroughly pissed off at her, both for her attitude and for ruining an incredibly intimate moment.

“No sex in my kitchen,” she said. “I don’t want men going at it with each other in here, and I sure as hell don’t want boys doing it.”

“It’s not your kitchen, and you’re out of line,” I said. Travis sensed my anger and put his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“I’ll pray for your souls,” she said in a smarmy way.

“You can do that while you’re packing up your shit,” I said. “You’re fired.” She looked at me like I was living in some fantasy land.

“You didn’t hire me, so you can’t fire me,” she said, pissing me off so much that I went into full power mode.

“I just did,” I said firmly, as I glared daggers at her. I watched her back down in the face of my rage, then she sighed.

“Fine,” she said, tossed the dishrag she was holding onto the counter, and stalked back to her room.

“Brad,” Travis taunted, accusing me of being my father.

“Sometimes,” I grumbled. “Who interviews these people? The first dude was your father’s spy, and this chick is a homophobe.”

“Cody,” Travis answered.

“Well now we know what he’s not good at,” I said, shaking my head. Steve the guard came in and looked around curiously. “I fired Coraline,” I said, explaining the weirdness.

“She’s not the most pleasant person,” he said, chuckling.

“She’s not,” I agreed. “Can you go make sure she packs up her things, get her keys or whatever, and get her out of here?”

“I can do that,” he said, and wandered off toward her room.

“Thanks,” I called after him. “Let’s go hit the waves.”

“Awesome,” Travis said. We ran up the stairs and stripped off our clothes then, wrapped in towels, we tore back down them to the lower level and changed into our wetsuits.

We’d been in the water for about three hours when a fellow surfer paddled up to us. “Brah, that dude over there asked me to tell you to go in,” he said, gesturing toward our house.

“Thanks,” I said, even as I looked at the house. My father was on the deck, and when he saw me looking at him, he motioned for me to come in. “We have to go,” I said to Travis.

“That sucks,” Travis said. A decent wave was forming, so we took advantage of it and had one more run before getting to the beach. We pulled off our wetsuits, put on our towels, and walked upstairs and into the kitchen. My father, Jake, Cody, and Kevin were there.

“I understand you decided to fire Coraline,” my father said rudely.

“If you dragged me out of the water to talk about that, we are going to have an issue,” I responded in the same way.

“The police want to question Travis,” Jake said, giving my father a sideways look of annoyance.

“I guess I was expecting this,” Travis said glumly.

“I lined up an attorney for you,” Jake said to him, and put his hand on Travis’s bicep in a reassuring way. “She should be here in about 20 minutes. You need to spend some time with her before you talk to the cops.”

“I’ll go get ready,” Travis said.

“You suck at hiring people,” I said to Cody. He gave me a dirty look, but Kevin giggled.

“He’s not wrong,” Kevin joked, getting a slight smile from Cody.

Travis and I went upstairs and got directly into the shower, but there was no intimate interchange this time. He was clearly uptight and very focused. We both started getting dressed, when he paused. “What if they arrest me?” he asked me plaintively.

“You didn’t do anything,” I said, although his demeanor was making me nervous. “Make sure everyone knows that.”

“Right,” he said skeptically, then went off to meet with his lawyer.