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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gap Year - 71. Chapter 71

March 9, 2004

San Francisco, CA

 

Will

I walked out of the Foundation’s headquarters relieved to be done with the meeting. After the big argument over firing Arundel, the rest went smoothly. Our motion to have the Board screen deals was approved with the proviso that a subcommittee be set up to do the work. That subcommittee consisted of me, Dad, Grand, Stef, and Evelyn. Stef nominated Jake to be the new Director, and by then everyone was so freaked out and cowed he got unanimous approval. The only bad thing to come from the meeting was that Fireside ended up not resigning.

I walked to the parking lot and paused when I saw two people embracing next to Claire’s Mercedes. I wondered if I was going to get a big PDA show until I realized that she wasn’t hugging Craig Arundel, she was hugging my father. I didn’t want to bother them, but I needed to get the keys from him. “Hey,” I said as I approached them. They both looked at me, and I was shocked to see Claire crying. It was so bad she was almost sobbing. “I’m really sorry to interrupt you, but I needed the keys.”

“Sorry about that,” Dad said, and handed them to me. I should have left, but I felt so bad for Claire.

“I’m sorry about our confrontation before the meeting,” I said to her, and put my hand on her shoulder as a sign of support.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You were right.” She grabbed onto my father and started sobbing.

“I’m driving Claire back in her car,” he said.

“I’ll see you there later,” I said. As I was walking toward the Porsche, my phone rang and I saw that it was Tony. “S’up?” I asked, forcing myself to be cheerful.

“Got your message. We would love to see you!” he said, totally hyped up. “Are you still here?”

“Just finished my meeting and I was heading to my car,” I said. “Want to do lunch?”

“Absolutely,” he said. I gave him the name and address of the Chinese restaurant that Wade loved so much, then decided to just walk there. It was a beautiful day, and it would probably have been more effort to drive and find a place to park than to stroll.

I still managed to beat them there and grabbed us a table. They got there about five minutes after I did. I motioned them over and stood up to give them both hugs. Tony was fucking glowing, and so was Mason. He was just as short and just as cute as he’d been when I first met him. “It has been too fucking long since I’ve seen you,” I said to Mason.

“It has,” he said, and hugged me again.

“So how’s your trip been so far?” I asked.

“Awesome,” Mason said, then got playful. “Guess who I got to fuck?”

I stared at Tony, who was blushing so much his dark Italian skin turned purple, then Mason and I started laughing. “How was it?” I asked him when I got my humor under control.

“It was fun,” he said. “I’d do it again.”

“Cool,” I said, then winked at Mason. “You can try me out next.” Mason knew my dick was huge, so we laughed again, until Tony stopped that with a sappy comment.

“Only one dude gets my ass,” he said, and gave Mason a nice kiss.

“So things are good,” I concluded. It was weird, because as soon as I said that, the euphoria cleared and was replaced by tension. The waiter came over and we ordered, but they were both still uptight. “What?”

“We were both planning to move back to St. Louis, then Tony got a job offer in LA,” Mason said. “I’ve got a job lined up in Chesterfield, so either we live apart, or one of us gives up his dream.”

“Maybe you can find something similar in LA?” Tony asked hopefully.

“I want to go home,” Mason said firmly. “I thought you did too.”

“I want to be with you,” Tony said. “At the same time, I’ve always wanted to be involved in show biz. It’s been my dream. And now it’s real. I can do it. But I need you to be with me.”

“What about my dreams?” Mason countered. Sometimes he could be a little bitchy like that.

“What if you spent a couple of years in LA just to see how this works out for Tony, and to see if you like it?” I asked Mason.

“So I have to cave on this?” he asked me acidly.

“Dude, he let you fuck him,” I said severely. Mason gave me a dirty look, then saw the humor in that and smiled. We both looked at Tony, and I could see how important this was to him. He didn’t want to give up this chance, but he didn’t want to give up Mason. Making a choice would rip him apart.

“He did do that,” Mason said, mellowing a bit.

“What are your plans for the rest of your break?” I asked, as an idea sparked in my mind.

“Thought we’d head to Santa Cruz then spend some time in Paly,” Tony said casually.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said. I definitely had their attention now. “I’m flying down to LA tomorrow. Why don’t you come with me, that way Mason can check things out.”

“I’ve been to LA before,” he said in a snippy way.

“Have you been to Malibu?” I asked.

“Not really,” he said.

“I think you’d like it,” Tony said to him suggestively. Mason gave us both dirty looks, then caved.

“Fine,” he said.

“Come back tonight and crash at Escorial, then we can leave in the morning,” I said.

“We can do that,” Tony said, answering for both of them. We had a nice lunch after that, then they dropped me off so I could get the Porsche. It was hilarious because Mason had to sit on my lap since the Ferrari only had two seats. I was chuckling as I fired up the Porsche and headed back to Escorial.

The weather was warm so I put the top down. It was two o’clock, so traffic was light, and once I made it to I-280 I kicked it in, enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair while speeding through Hillsborough and Woodside. I thought about Grand’s comments during the meeting, about his analogy to relationships, and tried to decide if he was referring to me. The only person I carried a grudge against was Zach, and I had good reason for that since he hadn’t apologized. If he did, would I forgive him? I fought against that because I was still really pissed at him, but I knew in the end that I would. He’d been too big a part of my life, he’d been absolutely vital to my recovery from 9-11, and I’d loved him too much to just tell him to fuck off. I got off at Page Mill Road and in no time I was tooling up the drive to Escorial, admiring the beautiful trees that lined the boulevard and the lush grass that framed the road.

I stopped to tell the housekeeper that Tony and Mason would be back, then managed to escape back to my room with no one seeing me. I looked at the clock and it was still early enough, so I opted to go for a ride. I have a small shelf just inside my door which is where the staff put any mail that is addressed to me. Just as I was about to leave my room again, I noticed there was one of those express mail envelopes. I looked at it and read the FedEx label, then froze when I saw that it was from Zach. I got a little paranoid and locked my door, then got pissed off at myself for being a pussy. He’d tried to hurt me physically and that hadn’t worked, then he’d tried to hurt me emotionally and I’d survived that. I had nothing to fear from a letter.

Still, I hesitated before opening it. I got a Pepsi and opened it, chuckling when I remembered that was the weapon I’d used to retaliate that night that he’d thrown me across the room. I sat in the bed, took a sip of my drink, then deliberately opened the FedEx envelope. There was another envelope inside, a standard business letter envelope with my name written on it. I smiled briefly because he’d used a blue ink pen, and remembered that was his favorite color.

 

March 8, 2004

Dear Will,

I really need to talk to you, but I don’t know how to get through to you. You gave me a chance at breakfast and I totally fucked that up. If I fly up there, you’ll probably have me thrown off the property. I know you don’t want to be alone with me, and I don’t blame you. So writing this letter, making you endure my shitty handwriting, and FedExing it up to Escorial is about my only option.

I don’t know if you’ve ever done something awful and regretted it so much you couldn’t even bear to admit you were wrong. That’s how I feel about us. That’s how I feel about the night I threw you across the room. That’s how I feel every time I pull up your pictures and look at your bruises. Only losing you has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever endured. Remember when we were in New York, on the roof of the condo in Tribeca, and I told you about how painful it was when I dislocated my elbow? This is worse. So here I am, and I want to tell you how sorry I am, but saying it just seems so fucking lame. It’s like there has to be something more than just an apology, only I don’t know what it is.

I know you don’t want to see me because it freaked you out that night; you saw the rage in my eyes, and you don’t want to risk me hurting you again. That rage you saw overwhelmed me. It completely took over my mind and my body. I know that has to scare you. It scares me too, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not taking anything to fuel it, like steroids, it just happens. It started a few months ago, and every once in a while it consumes me. I have this monster living inside me that I can’t control, and I don’t know when he’ll take over, and when he does, I don’t know how to cram him back in his cage. I’ve got an appointment with a psychiatrist next week, so maybe they can help. I don’t know what to say to you about it. I don’t.

It really pissed me off that you came down here and picked Travis off and pulled him away from me. I was so jealous I didn’t even understand my feelings, and I still don’t, but I’ve got a better handle on them. I know that you and I are done, and I’m just hoping somehow I can keep you in my life as a friend. I know that Travis and I are done too. We’re done because he wants us to be done, and we’re done because I’m not going to fight for him. When he talks about you, his eyes light up like mine used to. When you talk about him, you fiercely defend him like you used to defend me. It makes me jealous and it makes me sad, but I’ll deal with it. You don’t have to worry about me hitting on him, about me fucking him, or about me messing with his mind. I’m leaving that field of battle, and you win T. You deserve each other, and I don’t deserve either one of you.

You tried to make things better for us at breakfast and I totally fucked that up. I know that there’s no way I can fight a battle, much less a war with you. I know what that will look like. I don’t want that to happen to me, and I don’t want that to happen to you. I was just pissed off and posturing, but I know how things are, and I know that if you wanted to, you could crush me. (BTW, I’d rather you didn’t).

I know you’ve got Spring Break coming up. I have a favor to ask (I know that takes total balls to even go there). Maybe after you get back, do you think we can try to be friends? Maybe just hang out together in public, where you’ll feel safe? I get that we’re over as a couple. I guess you and I both knew that was the case when I moved down here. It’s been like a long, slow, painful breakup. I can handle that. I can bury those romantic feelings I still have for you. But I don’t want to go through my life without knowing that you’re there as my friend, and I don’t think I can.

I’m re-reading this and it’s all about me, which just exposes me as the asshole I’ve been. I blew you off on 9-11 because I wanted to try and put some distance between us. It was too hard for me to be that close to you and be at UCLA. I didn’t think about the pain that would cause you, and how deserted you’d feel. And after that fucking nightmare at Goodwell, I didn’t call you for the same reason. It’s all about me, never about you. So I don’t blame you if you don’t want me in your life, but if you tell me what I can do to get back to a place where we’re good, I will do it.

I know you don’t love me anymore, but I will always love you. I don’t think I could change that even if I wanted to. Please be my friend. I need you in my corner.

Zach.

I wiped a tear out of my eye, although I wasn’t sure why. It was so ironic that I’d just been thinking about him, about this, on my drive home and here was this letter. My eyes narrowed briefly, wondering if someone had coached him to do that, but then I relaxed. Zach knew me well enough to play me if he wanted. I reread his note, then read it again, trying to figure out if he was doing that or if he was being sincere. I grimaced as I acknowledged that while he could try to manipulate me, one of my superpowers was that I could usually see through that, and in this case, I was pretty damn sure he was legit.

As I thought about his letter, I kept focusing on the section where he talked about the monster inside of him. When we were together, there had been no monster. I wondered what was causing that? Was someone else doing something to mess with him? Was this like when his roommate had given him those meth-laced energy drinks? I immediately began to get angry, to get ready to fight for him, then stopped myself. Was I still hung up on him? My anger with him was fading, and it seemed that every time I looked at this letter, it evaporated a little bit more. In the past if he’d done something like this, sent me such a sweet and heartfelt message, I’d have done whatever I could to be with him, with my sole goal being to reconnect with him physically and emotionally. That didn’t even appeal to me, and that made my mood soar, because it seemed like I was finally over Zach Hayes, at least from a romantic standpoint.

Having resolved the emotional issues meant that I now had another dilemma to handle, and for this one I needed help. I folded up the letter, put it in my pocket, then strolled up to Grand’s office. I heard a few voices, which made me hope that Stef was there too. “Enter,” I heard Grand say in response to my soft knock.

I walked in to find him with Stef, Dad, and Claire. Claire looked like absolute shit, like she hadn’t stopped crying since I’d seen her. “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, freezing in my tracks.

I turned around and started to leave when Dad’s voice stopped me. “Did you need something?”

I turned around and nodded. “I need your advice.” Claire got ready to leave, but I didn’t want to drive her away, not like this. “All of you.”

“And what is this latest dilemma you have?” Stef asked in a friendly way.

“It’s about Zach’s truck,” I said.

“So you did burn it up like a firework,” Dad concluded. I gave him a steely look that backed him up pretty fast.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“I would think you would know whether or not you had barbecued someone’s vehicle,” Grand said playfully. I smiled at him to thank him for helping my mood now, just as he’d done earlier. “Have a seat.”

I grabbed a soda from his refrigerator and joined them around Grand’s sitting area. “I told you about that big confrontation I had with Zach at breakfast before I went to New York. There was no way I was going to put up with his threats and his posturing. I knew that I had to explain to him that he wasn’t in a position to fuck with me,” I said. I had forgotten Claire was in the room. “Pardon me.”

She just smiled gently and shook her head to tell me not to worry about it. “You felt you needed to cause him some pain in some way to remind him that he wasn’t in control of the relationship,” Dad concluded.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “I wasn’t, and I’m not going to put up with his crap. Like I told you on our drive up to the City, he caused me a lot of pain with his stupid bullshit. I needed him to realize that I had the ability to go postal on him.”

“So that is when you arranged to have his vehicle vandalized,” Stef concluded.

“Yeah, only I didn’t plan for it to burn up,” I said.

“I do not understand,” Stef said.

“I hired some guys to track down his Expedition and slash the tires,” I explained. “That was all I wanted them to do. That was all I paid them to do.”

“I am curious,” Claire said. “Why did you want them to slash his tires?”

I smiled at her before I went on because I was worried about her. “At the beginning of last summer during our battle with Elizabeth Danfield, Zach had sent me an email telling me we were over,” I explained. “He wouldn’t talk to me; he wouldn’t communicate with me at all. When I finally got back from New York and dealing with JJ, I ended up in Malibu. Ryan and Jeff convinced me that the only way I could find out Zach’s deal was to confront him in person.”

“That was before you called me in the Seychelles,” Grand said, remembering that sequence.

“It was,” I confirmed. “I went down to UCLA and tracked down his Durango by the athletic fields. I waited there for him and when he came out and I was in front of him, he still wouldn’t talk to me, and was actually going to drive off and ignore me. I pulled out my knife and flattened three of his tires, and that ultimately got his attention.”

“So you were planning to have his tires slashed, and because of your prior experience, you assumed he would know you did it and would take that as a warning,” Grand concluded.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Maybe the guys you hired decided it was easier to just burn it up,” Dad mused.

“Maybe,” I said. “Seems like a lot more work than just slashing the tires.”

“Indeed it does,” Grand said, following my train of thought. “Perhaps you can track down the people you hired and ascertain if they did it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d even recognize them if I saw them again.”

“You know, we talked about this in the car, and I mentioned that you should make this right,” Dad said. His voice was almost snarky, and that got him a bitchy reaction.

“That wasn’t the answer before, but it’s the answer now,” I snapped.

“What has changed?” Grand asked.

“He sent me a letter,” I said. They looked at me curiously, so I took it out and read it to them.

“I am surely not the best judge,” Claire said, “but that sounds like a sincere and heartfelt letter.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’d probably be able to tell if he was bullshitting me, and I’m pretty sure he’s not.”

“So now you are not mad at him, so you are willing to help him out with his vehicle?” Stef asked.

“That’s part of it, but the other part is that I couldn’t do that until he apologized. I needed him to get the message, even if it wasn’t delivered like I wanted it to be. Until he did that, anything I did would make it seem like I was groveling back to him.”

“That is why you were so adamant in dodging everyone’s questions about whether you had done it,” Grand concluded. I nodded.

“If I’d told Frank or Gathan, they would have told him, and then to make my point I’d have had to do something worse,” I said. They knew that probably meant he’d end up getting physically roughed over.

“So what do you need our advice about?” Grand asked.

“I need to go down to LA tomorrow and I need to buy him a new SUV. I wanted to get your help on what kind to buy him,” I said to him with a smile. Dad and Stef frowned, because they hadn’t expected this to end in such a mundane request, while Grand and Claire smiled.

“I had thought your dilemma would be more difficult,” Stef said with an annoyed sniff, making me chuckle.

“I also wanted to tell you guys what happened. I wasn’t ready to tell you before, but with that letter, I needed you to know,” I said.

“Thank you,” Grand said.

I swallowed hard, then took the plunge and dove into my other concern about this deal. “There’s one other thing about this that bothers me.”

“And what is that?” Stef asked.

“What if someone else torched his truck?” I asked.

“It’s probably the guys you paid to do it,” my father said dismissively, then he paused as he started to think about it.

“Perhaps,” Grand said. None of us would be able to solve that problem right now, but I felt better that at least I’d shared my doubts with him. “I am wondering if you are willing to trust me to acquire a replacement vehicle for Zach?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “You can send me the bill.” He smiled and I took that opportunity to leave them. I was going to take Psyche for a ride but was distracted when I saw Marie drive up. I turned around and walked over to the garage to greet her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said. She was so mad it was like there was fire coming out of her eyes. “How did your meeting go?”

“I’ll tell you about it,” I said, and started walking toward the gazebo. She gave me a dirty look, then followed me.

“I need to go in and get our flight set up for Friday,” she said. “I managed to dodge my classes, so we can leave in the morning.”

“That’s awesome,” I said. “Are you alright?”

“Did you hear what my mother did?” she asked, although she was almost shouting. “She and this asshole she’s dating decided that we could wait to leave until Saturday so we could go out to eat with them on Friday night.”

“I heard about that,” I said.

“From who?” she demanded.

“From your mother, probably before she talked to you about it,” I said. “I told her that you’d completely lose it if they tried to do that, and I told her that she’d probably destroy her relationship with you.”

“That was already dead anyway,” Marie said bitterly.

“She told me I was being more sensitive than you are,” I said. She tried not to laugh at that and managed to force that reaction down to just a grin.

“I told her that she started going out with this dude, kept it on the down low, planned to move to New York with him and didn’t even think about us. Then when she does, she expects us to be totally okay with fucking up the start of our spring break. She completely fucked this up, and now we’re all supposed to not just work on her time schedule, but the schedule of this douchebag she’s fucking.” She kicked the ground in anger. “Assholes!”

“I said the same thing to her,” I told her.

“Why didn’t she listen to you?”

“I don’t know why everyone doesn’t listen to me,” I said, getting an annoyed eye roll from her. “When did she tell you about this?”

“Before the Board Meeting,” she said. I was trying to figure out how Claire managed that, since I didn’t think she would have had time to have spoken to Marie between when I talked to her and the meeting started, but Marie filled in the blanks. “We talked for about three minutes, I called her a fucking bitch, then she got some attitude and I hung up on her.”

“So she called you after the meeting?” I asked.

“She did,” Marie said. “We argued for a long time, with me mostly yelling at her and her begging me to shut up and listen.” I nodded, which she interpreted as me being judgmental. “Don’t give me shit. Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing!”

“Duh,” I said. “I wasn’t giving you shit, and I’m not saying you’re wrong. You’re probably calm right now compared to how I’d be,” I said with a smile.

“Probably,” she said, and gave me a small smile. She had ranted and raved and burnt off her steam, so now we could have a conversation.

“During the Board meeting, there was a vote on whether to tell Craig to fuck off or to keep him,” I said.

“I’ll bet my mother was his big defender,” she said, shaking her head cynically. When I didn’t say anything, she prompted me. “How did it go?”

“Grandmaman and two of the independent directors voted to keep him, while Grand, Dad, and I voted to shitcan him. Evelyn was new, so she abstained,” I explained.

“So it was a tie, with only Stef and my mother left to vote,” she said.

“Stef opted to vote last, and when the vote came to your mother, she just sat there for about two minutes not saying anything,” I said.

“How did she vote?”

“She voted to fire him,” I said.

“She what?” Marie asked, shocked.

“She said she didn’t think he could be effective in the job,” I explained. “Stef then voted to fire him too, and said he agreed with his niece.”

“What’s that all about?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but she’s been totally fucked up since then,” I said. She just looked at me, waiting for me to explain. “She was a sobbing mess afterwards, and told me that I was right, so it must have been after she talked to you too. My dad had to drive her home.”

“She’s completely fucked up,” Marie said, shaking her head. “Now I know what you must feel like when your father does stupid shit like this.”

“I usually feel like that when he does stupid shit, but when I see him in as much pain as your mom was in, that’s usually when I jump in and try to help him out,” I said, getting a frown from her.

“Well that’s you, not me,” she snapped.

“Evidently,” I said, then got up and walked back to my room.

Copyright © 2020 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Marvelous. I think Marie has her monthly visitor (ducking...).

On 4/6/2023 at 9:59 PM, bjrh008 said:

If I was Will, I would tell Zach, that I will not be his friend, until he gets his temper under control, and once he does I will be a friend and be in his corner.

If all of Will's friends waited until he got his temper under control to be his friend, he'd have no friends.

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On 4/6/2023 at 5:09 PM, rjo said:

What will Will do about Zach? And what will happen with Clarie? Can her family be restored? I hope so.

This sounds like an old time radio drama, "What will Will do about Zach? And what will happen with Clarie? Can her family be restored? Remember to smoke Chesterfields and tune in next week to find out!"

On 4/6/2023 at 7:57 PM, scrubber6620 said:

The foundation will be righted with Jake as staff head. Fireside , sadly, will still be the burr under the saddle by staying on.

Every board needs burrs to keep them honest, whether or not the burrs are right is almost irrelevant, the dissent at least slows down the train so everyone gets a good view.

On 4/9/2023 at 2:05 PM, scrubber6620 said:

I naturally assumed Curtis Buck was behind the torching. But, after thinking about Zach's very self-aware , mature and critical, detailed self-analysis, I am considering the torch person possibility list could be expanded to someone else has had physically abused when his so called monster took over.

Why has no one considered it might be Travis Buck? You have to watch out for the quiet, introverts sometimes. A lot goes on underneath the surface.

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