Gap Year - 84. Chapter 84

The Gap Year

by: Mark Arbour

Chapter Eighty-Four

March 25, 2004

Escorial

Palo Alto, CA

Will

I almost felt like I was the one in hiding. Sean and Jake had been adamant that I not talk to anyone about Travis, but that was impossible, and they both seemed to get that. Of course, they didn’t change their advice to me; they just sympathized with my plight. Sometimes it was hard to like lawyers.

Monday had been weird, because while I’d known Travis had vanished, his family probably hadn’t figured out that he had gone. That all changed on Tuesday. Travis had sent his mother an email, and had BCC’d me on it:

Mom,

By the time you read this email, I will be gone. I am convinced that Dad has huge financial problems, and so does Buck Industries. I am the only one of your kids who doesn’t have their trust fund wrapped up in the company. My money is liquid. Dad needs my money to bail his stupid ass out, and the only way for that to happen is if I die. If I stay in Malibu, he will have me killed, and I will not see my 18^th birthday.

You can tell me that he’s my father and that he would never hurt me, but I don’t believe either one of those statements. If I die, my trust reverts to him, Taylor, and Big. I’m more valuable to Dad dead than alive, and I’d rather not end up in the grave just so he can dodge responsibility for running the company into the ground. You were always willing to sell me, Taylor, and Big down the river for some extra money from him. Now that he’s broke, that may not be the gravy train it’s been for you in the past. And based on the way he treats me, and the way my money is set up, and the way I look absolutely nothing like him, it’s obvious that I’m not his son. You haven’t been honest with me about that. You haven’t been honest with me about most things. For you, I’m just a pawn to get more money from him. Think about that, Mom. Think about what that makes you.

I’ve left a detailed paper trail of this with my lawyer, Guy Fellowes, so if I do get killed within the next month, at least there’s something to throw at the prosecuting attorney. I’m going to try to work through my advisors to finish up school, but I’m not sure I can do that and still keep Dad from finding out where I am.

I will return to Malibu on April 20, 2004, the day I turn 18 and my death will be meaningless to Dad.

Travis

At first, I’d gotten all excited, thinking that I could email him and get in touch with him, but then I’d looked at his address and it was from TBuckviaFellowes@yahoo.com, so clearly it was his attorney who sent this out for him. I’d laughed my ass off at how he’d laid things out, and how he’d called his mother a whore. That probably pissed her off. Well that was too bad: sometimes the truth hurts.

That had gone out at 5:00pm and within an hour, my phone had started exploding with calls, but the only people who had left messages were Miranda and Taylor Buck, and Zach. Miranda had been the most emphatic that I call her back. I had decided that Zach could be my interface with all of them, so I’d called him, and had been relieved when it went to voicemail. I’d left him a brief message: “Hey Zach, it’s Will. Got your message, along with a shitload of others, asking me where T is. I honestly have no fucking clue. Do me a favor. Pass that on to Taylor and her mom.”

I’d been exhausted from a combination of not getting much sleep when I was in Hawaii and being stressed out about Travis. I’d crashed early last night and slept in, so it was almost noon as I walked up to the kitchen for food, mentally planning out my day. I’d eat, then go for a ride, then spend some time in the gym. That should get me through until dinner, and after that meal, I could escape back to my room and continue being miserable. I pulled out my phone and saw that I’d gotten another call from Miranda Buck, but I ignored it. Then I got excited and pulled out my burner phone to see if I’d gotten a message from Travis, but there was nothing, and that made me even more depressed. I thought that was ironically symbolic of my relationship with him.

The week with Travis in Hawaii had been magical. We had really bonded, and if it weren’t for all the bullshit with his father, the entire time would have been perfect. We clicked so well together it was scary. The only person I’d ever gotten along that well with was Zach, only the thought of that made me cringe not a little bit. I understood Travis and he understood me, and we both went out of our ways to try to accommodate our different personalities. I recognized his introversion and tried to make sure he had time and space to himself, while he smiled at my extroverted ass and told me to go have fun. Only now that I was back here without him, the whole experience just seemed like a big tease: I’d gone from being together with Travis and happy to being alone and miserable. The contrast was crushing. I paused at the entrance to the kitchen and pasted on a smile, but Carmen read right through that and gave me a sympathetic look. “I have been waiting for you,” she said in Spanish, the language we invariably chose to communicate in.

“You have?” I asked, curiously.

“I knew that since you have slept until lunch, it will require a great deal of effort to make enough food for you,” she said.

“Gracias,” I said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I sat down at the table, pulled out my phone, and stared at the flashing message light. I rolled my eyes and put my phone down, then was distracted when Grand came in.

“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly, with just the slightest bit of snarkiness since it was noon and I was just now awake.

“Hello,” I responded. “Have you figured out our travel plans?”

“I have been working on them, and I am modifying our itinerary,” he said.

“And what have you changed?” I asked. “I thought we were going to Spain?”

“We are going to Spain,” he said. “We are also going to Paris, and maybe to London, then we are going on a Grand Tour.”

“Why are we going to Paris and London, and what’s a Grand Tour?” I asked.

“I have been working on my book, and I have a few items I must research, so that is why we are going to London and Paris,” he said.

I shrugged. “I like both of those places, so I’m good with that.”

“I am glad you are amenable,” he said in his pompous way, getting an eye roll from me in return. “The Grand Tour was a trip young aristocratic men took in the 1700s and 1800s. It was thought that, to be cultured, a young man should experience the civilizations of ancient Greece and Rome.”

“I thought those civilizations no longer existed,” I said, just to bug him.

“They do not, but the remnants they left behind are fascinating,” he said.

“So in your mind, you will take me on this Grand Tour, I will learn about classical Greece and Rome, and that will turn me into a cultured individual?” I asked.

“One can hope,” he said, making me laugh. “I have managed to secure Stefan’s ship for our tour, so once we leave Paris we will be traveling by sea.”

“Wasn’t there some big storm that blew that one Greek dude way off course?” I asked.

“You are referring to Odysseus and the Iliad,” he said in annoyance at my feigned ignorance. Once he realized that I knew all about that, and I was just giving him crap, he gave me his obligatory look of irritation.

“Do you think that will happen to us, and we’ll have to confront Medusa?” I asked innocently.

“As I am not fond of snakes, I am hoping that does not happen,” he said.

“There’s also the Poseidon Adventure,” I said. He looked at me blankly. “That movie about an ocean liner in the Mediterranean getting hit by a rogue wave and capsizing. It sounds like this could be a very dangerous Grand Tour.”

He gave me a dirty look for teasing him. “I am sure we will be quite safe.”

“I’m sure,” I answered, then laughed. “It sounds like fun. Like something appropriate for my gap semester.”

“I am glad you think so, because that was my plan,” he said, then smiled. “More importantly, I am sure I will enjoy myself as well.”

“That happens when we go to Ibiza,” I teased, and his annoyed facial expression was enough to make me really laugh. “When do we leave?”

“I have some things I must finish up, so I was of a mind to leave next Monday,” he said. I had assumed we’d be leaving before then, but such was life.

“I might leave early and stop in Boston or New York,” I said. I was feeling trapped and bored, and was anxious to go somewhere more exciting.

“If that is your plan, I will coordinate with you and pick you up on the way,” he said, then smiled. “Much as if I was a glorified taxi driver.”

“Yes, it is so inconvenient when you have a private plane,” I said sarcastically.

“Have you heard from Travis?” he asked.

“I haven’t,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

“I’d appreciate your doing so, and in that way, I will not have to bother you constantly, but rather I’ll rely on you to keep me informed,” he said in his faux-stuffy way.

“That sounds like it will be better for both of us,” I said, and grinned at him. My grin faded when I changed the topic. “I got calls from Zach, Taylor, and Travis’s mom, all wanting to talk to me about Travis’s email. Miranda Buck sounded pretty upset.”

“I think it is inevitable that you will have to speak with her,” he said.

“Even though the attorneys told me not to?” I asked, wanting his opinion.

“I suspect she will be determined, and as you really don’t know anything more than what Travis told her in his email, I am not sure what harm you can do,” he said.

“That was my read on it as well,” I said. Carmen put a bunch of food in front of me, and I devoured it with indecent speed, getting more dirty looks from Grand for my bad table manners, but I ignored him. I was done sitting around, and anxious to go do something. “I’m going to go for a ride.”

“Have fun,” he said. Twenty minutes later found me riding Psyche across the familiar countryside, taking almost the same path I’d taken with Grand on Monday. I rode for so long I actually wore Psyche out. I left her with the stable hands, but while she was worn out, I still had this need to do something physical. I cringed when I realized I was acting like Travis, who usually had to be active in the afternoons, and wondered if he was rubbing off on me, or if I was just so full of anxiety that physical exertion was the only way to work it out. Then I got sad, because that was probably why he always wanted to be active. Some time in the gym, then a shower, got me to 5:30, which meant I still had an hour and a half to kill before dinner. I went to track Ryan down, but I heard moaning coming from his room, so I opted not to bother him. Instead, I decided to go bother Grand. The doors to his study were closed, so I knocked softly so as not to be too intrusive. “Enter,” I heard him say.

I walked in to find him with Stef, who immediately got up and gave me a big hug. “And how are you doing today?”

“I’ve been better,” I said grimly. “I think I’m going to go to New York and bother JJ for a few days before Grand picks me up and takes me to Europe.”

“I am trying to decide if that is an improvement over staying here,” he said, making me chuckle.

“I’m a little bored, and I need a change of venue,” I said.

“You will have to let me know how things are going with JJ and Zanie,” Stef said. “I have not heard any reliable gossip recently.”

“Maybe I’ll stay at a hotel,” I said, thinking of how annoying they could be.

“That is certainly worth considering,” Stef said, then we chuckled at what a pain in the ass JJ could be. Our mirth was interrupted when the house phone rang. Grand walked over to his desk and answered it, but he was so good at speaking so no one could hear him, I had no idea what the issue was. He hung up the phone and turned to enlighten us.

“Miranda Buck has just been buzzed through the gates,” he said.

“Terrific,” I said fatalistically.

“I will go greet her and bring her here,” Stef announced, and strode confidently out of the room.

“Pretty pushy of her to barge into a well-protected estate on 100 acres of land,” I said to him with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

He smiled back. “She is clearly on a mission.”

“Clearly,” I agreed. Grand and I both stood up and waited for Stef to usher her into the room. She breezed in smoothly, a bit more gauchely than Grandmaman would have, but with that same refined European air.

“Welcome,” I said, and stepped forward to give her the requisite demi-hug with faux kisses.

“It is good to see you,” she responded.

“And of course you remember my partner, JP Crampton,” Stef said, introducing Grand.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Perhaps a Perrier, if you have it?” she asked.

“Of course,” Grand said. “Please have a seat.” Grand got us drinks while we arrayed ourselves around his coffee table. Grand sat in one of the chairs while Miranda took the other, with Stef and I sharing the sofa.

“I am sorry to barge in on you uninvited, but you did not return my calls, and this is important,” she said to me.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said, switching to French. She glanced briefly at Grand, possibly wondering if he could understand us. “This whole thing has been tough to deal with, and I haven’t felt like talking on the phone. I left Zach a message and asked him to relay the information. Did he do that?”

“He did, but I am desperately worried about Travis, and you are the one who is closest to him,” she said. “That is why I am reaching out to you.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I said honestly. “I don’t know where he is.”

“I am not saying that I do not believe you, but allow me to share why others in my family are not convinced by your words,” she said, trying to politely tell me she thought I was lying. “Travis is very attached to you. He is gone for a week with you, and as soon as he returns, he vanishes. It seems very unlikely that you would not know what his plans were.”

“Not to be rude, but I really don’t give a damn what other members of your family think,” I said as politely as I could. “Travis told me he was leaving, but refused to tell me more than that.”

She seemed to realize that she’d gone in a bad direction, so she switched her strategy. “I do not mean to pry, but did you two have an argument? Did you break up?”

I raised an eyebrow to challenge her. Her choice of words clearly implied that we were a romantic couple, and not just friends. “Break up?”

“Will, it is obvious to me that Travis is very much in love with you,” she said, probably the first candid statement she’d uttered. “While he has not told me he is gay, or bisexual, I can identify love in my son.”

I should have maintained the façade that we weren’t lovers, but she knew the truth, and I didn’t have the energy to lie to her. “I asked Travis if you knew about him, and about us. Do you know what he told me?”

“I do not,” she answered.

“He told me that he thought you suspected, but you didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell you. He said that you have a nasty habit of selling information about him and his siblings to Curtis, and this gave you the ability to pretend it wasn’t the case,” I said, my eyes boring into hers. “I think that was just one of the things Travis was referring to in the email he sent you.”

“You have seen that?” she asked. It bothered me that my words of total condemnation over the way she’d treated Travis didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“I have,” I replied. “I was sent a copy of it.”

“If he is emailing us, he must be in contact with someone,” she said, trying to trick me into admitting I had access to Travis.

“If you look at the email address, you’ll see that it’s not his normal account, it’s an account with his attorney’s name on it,” I said. “He obviously sent the email out for Travis. I’m assuming they set that up before Travis left.”

“I should have checked that,” she said, and looked very unhappy that her attempt to trick me into telling her where Travis was hadn’t worked.

“Travis and I argued a lot about this, but he point-blank refused to tell me where he was going,” I explained. “He said he didn’t want me to have to put up with a bunch of pressure from his family to reveal his whereabouts.”

She grimaced. “Sadly, that has not saved you.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind talking to you about it, and hopefully you’ll be able to explain all of this to everyone else.”

“I am not sure that will be sufficient,” she said.

“I’m not some plebe that Curtis can bully,” I said. “I told you what the deal is, and I didn’t really have to do even that. If you all think I’m a liar, then anything we talk about won’t matter anyway.”

“I do not think that at all,” she said, beating a hasty retreat.

“My attorneys have told me that any questions about Travis and his vanishing act should be directed to them,” I said firmly. “I’m talking to you because we have always gotten along, and because you’re important to Travis. But that’s as far as I’m willing to go. If Curtis or the rest of them want to talk to me, they’re going to have to speak to my lawyer.”

“I will pass that on,” she said with a smile, then her countenance changed back to one of concern. “Curtis is a horrible man, but he will not hurt Travis.”

“Curtis is a horrible man, and it doesn’t matter that you think that; what matters is that Travis thinks that,” I said. “Is Curtis his father?”

“Of course he is,” she said.

“Is Curtis Buck Travis’s biological father?” I asked her, rephrasing my question, although it came out as more of a demand.

“Is it true what Travis said, that Curtis is in dire financial trouble?” she asked, totally ignoring my question. I said nothing.

“We have…” Stef began, but I put my hand on his leg to stop him.

“Is Curtis Buck Travis’s biological father?” I asked again.

She looked at all of us, then swallowed hard. “He is not.” Before I could ask her who his father was, she hastily addressed that issue. “I will not tell you more than that. I will tell Travis, then it will be his place to share that with whom he wants to.”

“Why didn’t you tell him before?” I asked.

“The way things are set up, it seemed best to lay this all out for him on his 18^th birthday. I will do that, assuming he returns to us safe and sound by April 20^th,” she said. I was mad at her, but I could see how much Travis’s being gone had upset her. That was something I could relate to, and that helped me mellow toward her. I gave Stef a slight nod.

“We have looked into the financial information for Buck Industries, and are convinced that the company will have to seek bankruptcy protection very soon,” Stef said.

“Surely not!” she exclaimed. “The Buck fortune is worth over a billion dollars!”

“I would say it is more accurate to state that it was worth more than a billion dollars,” Stef said, emphasizing the word ‘was’. “I have no way of evaluating Curtis’s personal net worth, but I suspect he is in just as bad shape.”

“My other two children, the bulk of their money is invested in that company,” she said, truly horrified.

“But Travis’s money wasn’t,” I said.

“That is because of Curtis,” she spat. “He was adamant that a son who was not his would not have a major stake in the sacred family corporation. The 10% he got was because Tom Buck, his grandfather, insisted on including him.”

“In the end, it sounds as if Curtis may have done Travis a considerable service, since his assets are untainted by Buck’s problems,” Grand observed.

“That is assuming Travis lives long enough to get control of them,” I said, then addressed Miranda. “Do you not see the situation? Curtis has driven this company that is probably everything to him into the ground. He can’t get anyone to loan him money, and the whole thing is collapsing like a house of cards. The only way out is for him to get access to Travis’s money. Do you honestly think that he would worry about Travis’s life with so much at stake, especially since Travis isn’t even his son?”

She sat back in her chair and exhaled in frustration, then wiped a tear from her eye. We said nothing, giving her a minute to digest that. “I want to think that he would not, but I cannot be sure.”

“That is why Travis is hiding,” I said.

“What will you do when Curtis blames you for this?” she asked me.

I blinked at her. “I had nothing to do with any of this. All I’ve done is try to be a good friend to the man I love.”

“As it stands right now, we view this as an inter-family conflict, one that none of us is going to get involved with,” Grand said, proving to her that he was quite fluent in French. It was amazing to see the transformation in him now that he’d clearly put on the mantle as the leader of our family. When he spoke like he did now, if I were anyone else, I would have thought he was terrifying. “If something were to happen to Travis, or if actions are taken against Will, it is no longer something we will ignore.”

“I understand, and I will do my best to explain that,” Miranda said, sufficiently cowed.

“It is better if you do that, because it would not be as pleasant if I had to have that conversation with Curtis,” Stef said. He used his ‘business’ tone, and was almost as scary as Grand.

“In the meantime, I am trying to figure out what Travis is up to,” she said. I blinked at her in confusion.

“I think he’s just trying not to get killed,” I said.

She shook her head and smiled at me gently. “Travis doesn’t do anything without a plan. There is more to this than his survival.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I will let you know when I figure it out,” she said, then stood up. “Thank you all for giving me some insight into what is happening.”

We stood up as well. “I am not your enemy,” I said.

“You are not,” she said, and gave me a warm hug. “But perhaps someday, you will be my son-in-law.”

I blushed, she laughed, then we smiled at each other. “Perhaps.” She said goodbye to Stef and Grand, and Stef escorted her out of the house. Grand and I said nothing, primarily because my mind was reeling from that meeting, and because he did not want to have a substantive conversation without Stef there.

Stef returned shortly and closed the doors behind him. “That was certainly interesting.”

“Indeed,” Grand said. “She seems to think that Travis has some ulterior motive or plan.”

“She knows Travis better than anyone, so if she says he has a plan, he probably has a plan,” I said. “Unfortunately, I have no idea what it is.”

“He is a very secretive young man,” Stef observed.

“He pretty much has to be,” I said.

“Well, at least one question is answered,” Grand said. “We now know for certain that Travis’s biological father is not Curtis Buck.”

“But that begs the more important question,” Stef said. “Who, then, is Travis’s father?”

“Travis doesn’t know, and I don’t have a clue either,” I said.

“I do not know who Travis’s father is, but I must say that there is something very familiar about him,” Stef said.

“You think his father is someone we know?” I asked. “I mean, he told me that Curtis had accused his mother of sleeping with pretty much everyone, even Robbie.”

“Robbie?” Grand asked, and in what was a rarity, he was visibly shocked by that possibility.

“That’s what Travis said,” I told him. “Doesn’t mean it was Robbie. Curtis was throwing a bunch of names at her.”

“I did not think that Robbie had any affairs with women,” Stef mused.

“I think we should remember this is just idle gossip, and pure speculation,” Grand said, with his fussy sense of logic now fully restored after he’d recovered from his initial shock.

“Maybe, but Darius always said Robbie was the straightest one, taking into account the openly gay men in our family,” I said.

“That is not entirely fair,” Stef sniffed. “I have appreciated women in the past.”

“Then maybe Travis is your son,” I accused playfully. He gave me an annoyed look.

“Regardless, we will not solve this problem today,” Stef said dismissively. I looked at Grand and raised an eyebrow, because it was a bit strange for Stef to be so mysterious. Did he sleep with Miranda Buck? Grand just shrugged, and we took that as our signal to go eat dinner.