Carter's War - 27. Chapter 27

"You read body language?" Rena Allison asked, a curious smile appearing on her face. "That's a useful talent."

Will shrugged, smiling a bit. "Difficult to learn, but invaluable in gauging people; useful yes, but not the only method I rely on. I learned a lot of them from my father, he was in the army and seemed to think it was a handy skill to learn."

"Well," Rena smiled, "you'll have to give me a demonstration later and impress us with your skill."

"I'm not that good at it," Will said, almost turning red. "I couldn't compete with my father; he's amazing, he could look at you and tell you things about yourself you didn't think anyone would know."

"Well, thankfully he isn't here, or you would know all my secrets," she gave him an alluring smile.

Will paled slightly, she was coming on to him, and he smiled and nodded. He quickly changed the subject, turning her attention to the impending merger. Agreeing that it was a fair bargain, the former president of Tri-Tech was distracted by several other prominent guests who wished to speak with her. Will watched her go, and wondered if she had actually been trying to flirt with him after all.

Will moved over and took another drink off yet another silver tray carried around by another caterer. He sipped this one, instead of taking it down in one swig of the glass. He was enjoying himself even though he wasn't much of a socialite, and while Sam Conners and other members of his staff whooped and hollered getting into the spirit of the party, he allowed himself the chance to relax; he was beginning to get used to the antics of some of his staff, and also even enjoy the large crowded party. He normally wasn't a huge fan of such functions. He preferred a few close friends to a crowd. But he had done many larger parties back when his father had dragged him along to various military functions. Stuffed into that god-awful blue shirt and silly bow tie, at least now he could get away with a tuxedo.

He noticed several guests looking out the windows and pointing, exclaiming at something and laughing. It was enough to convince him to find out what was going on. When he reached the windows, he looked out and saw a small crowd in the distant snowy grounds of the estate. To his dismay he knew those types of circles, back when he had taught junior high he could spot a fight when he saw one.

Will groaned, had Sam already spiked the punch more than it was already perhaps? Perhaps it was Sam himself. No, he chided himself silently. Sam was strange, to say the least, but he was more of a partier than a brawler. At least that was the impression he had of his employee so far. He had come to know the young man over the months since he had joined the recruitment department, accepting his odd personality quirks.

Earlier that day he had passed Sam in the office and the cocky recruiter had given him a sly grin telling Will that he was up to no good as usual. But whatever his personality quirks, the kid could recruit. Will had simply shook his head as he leisurely made his way out of cubicle country and to his office again after that. He'd rather not know what Sam was doing. It was probably easier on his blood pressure that way.

Will dashed for the front door, grabbing his overcoat in the coatroom as he went. The butler was still working the door, looking startled to see the young Director of Human Resources run past him, barely having a chance to throw open the door to allow Will through.

He stepped aside after the passage and stared at Mister Carter who flew down the steps, throwing his arms into his coat as he ran.

Will rounded the corner of the house and saw the crowd not far ahead. He was in vocal range now.

"Hey!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, though not angry and still almost a soft tone to it. "What's going on here?"

He noticed who the fighters were at this point. One of them was unmistakably Marc. There was a split second of hesitation as he wondered why Marc was at the party, but he didn't have time to think about it. The other fighter was starting in again, a young kid Will recognized from the party.

* * *

Robert Avery stood, staring down from his vantage point overlooking the manor house. From the upper terrace he commanded an unobstructed view over the grounds adjacent to his house. There were couples skating on the frozen pond, watched by their co-workers from the veranda of the main house. Some couples walked along the lakeshore, seeking a moment or two alone with each other. But his gaze was fixed now on the circle of young men that had formed around the two battling youths.

Avery had turned the collar of his great coat up to ward out the cold, his breath frosting as it flowed from his mouth. He weathered the cold, and continued to watch the struggle. The temptation was to interfere, but that would accomplish nothing. Avery made a career out of knowing situations, and a fight over Libbet had been building for a while now. He regretted that she had to play games, but she hadn't started the fight, she was just the prize. Avery knew from his own experience to let them sort out their own differences.

All through his life he had seen similar fights; it was human nature for boys trying to become men, trying to define themselves, make a name for themselves. Like any gang, the kids at the party were a group of young, impressionable youths trying to prove who they were. Lucas had something to prove and in his own way so did Marc. Avery couldn't interfere, only deal with the fallout from it

To his surprise he watched Will intercede in the struggle, and nodded; perhaps it had reached an end, perhaps not. He wondered how far the jealousy between the two boys would go, what it would lead to. There was a time and a place to work out aggressions. Avery could remember an incident behind the library down on Grafton Street all those years ago when his Katheryn had been the woman to stand by and watch as two young men had fought over her in a playground.

The old man instinctively rubbed his jaw line; the memory was a fond reminder of why he had become the man he was.

Avery was glad in a way that it was Will stepping in. The feisty Englishman had lived up to his heritage; he fought with words as effectively as someone twice his age. If anyone could make sense out of the fight, Will could. And it looked like it wasn't a moment too soon as Libbet's street-kid boyfriend seemed to have discovered that the pretentious rich boy from a good prep school wasn't as soft as he had thought.

* * *

Reaching the crowd, Will shoved his way past those who did not know who he was and didn't step away. Some ran away from the crowd, realizing that their boss had arrived.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Will yelled, anger just on the edge of his voice now.

The other fighter, not Marc, turned to Will, his face bloodied.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?" he shouted at Will, sneering at the man who had interrupted the fight. "Go back to the party, you son of a bitch!"

Will's face flushed red a bit, anger setting in, he never tolerated that kind of language directed towards him.

"I'm the man that signs the pink slips at Avery-Woods, that's who the bloody hell I think I am!"

Silence immediately descended over the crowd. A few "I told you so's" were whispered about. Marc still stood in a defensive posture, but stared in surprise at Will's sudden appearance. His foe, the other young man who had yelled at Will, had stopped moving completely.

"Uhm.... Will?" Marc asked in obvious confusion. "Mister Carter? What are you.... doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" asked Will incredulously. "I'm at a dignified formal evening party that my company has put on to impress the shareholders of a company we are trying to buy out. At least I thought I was until I saw you idiots out here!"

He turned, and glared at almost everyone in the crowd around him, mostly young salesmen, and kids of senior staff members of Avery-Woods. He recognized them from the Christmas party a few months before. He glared at Marc too, although more disappointment filled his eyes at that point than anger.

Marc wiped the blood from his forehead, and stood squarely in front of Lucas, glaring. The night had already been bad enough as it was. This couldn't possibly be any worse, the young man decided.

"Just how much bloody alcohol could you have had to have forgotten where you were?" Will's voice boomed now with authority. He turned to the young man who had been fighting with Marc. "What's your name, son?"

The young man tired to straighten himself, adjusting visibly to the pain he was enduring. He answered: "Lucas, sir."

Will's eyes took on an exasperated look, and he frowned.

"Last name, son!" he demanded and he realized how much like his father he sounded. "Or have you completely forgotten who you are?"

Lucas sneered at the word "son", and tried to stand tall in front of Mister Carter. He only marginally succeeded, since he was still under the influence. He spoke defiantly, "Lucas Weippert.... Sir!"

Inwardly Will groaned, like father like son. "Well, Mister Weippert," Will said, stressing the word 'Mister', "would you mind telling me what you thought you were doing out here?"

Lucas glared at Marc for a moment, and glanced around. "I believe we were just leaving, sir!"

A few of the young salesmen who worked for Avery-Woods, the ones who knew who Will was, gave Lucas an odd look, as if to say that he was in trouble and that he'd better try to wise up to it. Marc glanced from person to person, considering again how badly his night had gone. Now he was faced with an angry Will Carter, could it actually get any worse for him?

Will stepped closer to the young man, a frown appearing again. "If you think you're getting off that easily, Mister Weippert, then you've definitely had too much to bloody drink! I want an explanation, and I want it now! Or shall I ask one of your friends around us instead?" He glared at the employees; no question in their eyes, they knew he wouldn't hesitate to start firing people on the spot until he found someone capable of explaining what had happened.

Another young man, vaguely familiar to Will from accounting, stepped out from the crowd. "It's just a stupid argument, sir. He won't do it again."

Lucas shot the other young man a glare.

Will glanced to Marc for the first time. The young man made eye contact for a moment, but looked away, not wanting the humiliation to settle in.

"Arguments aren't supposed to get physical," Will said glaring back at Lucas. "I suggest you learn to remember that fact, because if you can't I'd be all too happy to instruct your father to teach you."

The young men around him shifted nervously, or in shame. Some kicked the snow they were standing in. Silence stood for a few seconds like thick fog over the group.

"You were saying that you were leaving," Will said harshly as he glared at Lucas again, shifting his eyes towards where the driveway and the numerous cars parked close to the front entrance of the house. "Maybe you should do just that."

Lucas shrugged, and acted as if he was indifferent. But he started moving towards the parking lot, a few of his friends following. He stopped however, and turned to Marc and said with a laughing whisper: "Better watch yourself, Marc Lawrence..."

"Mister Weippert..." Will snapped, hearing the remark.

Lucas however kept moving, acting as if he hadn't heard Will; what did he care. He'd had enough of being insulted by some stranger who had no affect over his life.

"Mister Weippert!" Will nearly bellowed, the angry authoritative edge to his voice having returned. He took two steps after the impudent young man.

Lucas finally stopped at the footpath that led towards the cars and turned around, his eyes indignant again. His friends quickly hurried into their cars, sensing Will's fury approaching.

Will walked right up, and towered over Lucas, literally coming face to face with the boy on the edge of the driveway. Behind him, a smile escaped Marc's face. The arrogant kid was finally going to get what was due him.

Will smelled the alcohol now on Lucas's breath, being so close to him, face-to-face. The glaze in the boys eyes now taking form also alluded to the fact that drinking had as much to play here, at least on Lucas's side, as legitimate anger.

Nonetheless, Will let loose on the young man.

"I meant what I said. You're supposed to be acting like the man you hope to become." Will wondered if his words would sink in. The other people at Avery-Woods may have taken a liking for Lucas based on who his father was, but Will certainly wasn't, he didn't play favourites, a man stood on his own merits. Lucas wasn't winning any points as this incident went on. "Start acting like it, especially at company functions. I don't need, and don't want, anything less from you."

Lucas's almost snorted, but seemed dazed now, his eyes far somewhere else, unfocused.

Will leaned in even closer: "And you'd better just count yourself fucking lucky that I didn't turn you over to your father! If you keep up this attitude however, I may rethink that decision."

Lucas blinked at him. Will sighed.

"Get the hell out of here, Mister Weippert."

Lucas tried to nod, but instead fell back into the snow, passing out from the alcohol. Will sighed again. 'I'd just let your father sort you out,' he said silently to himself, 'if you weren't so damn drunk.' Hopefully his friends would drive him home and put him to bed for the night. Although Will couldn't imagine he could cause much more trouble in his state now anyway.