"See, he's shallow, all he cares about is her body! Did you notice how, immediately after they had their little pool date, he was nowhere near as smitten with her and just because she had stress marks and stuff? Oh no, a woman who's given life to a child! How disgusting!" Scarlett said as she and Wyatt lay on the couch, eating ice cream cones and flipping through channels.
"You're not wrong. She was charming, she was smart, and honestly, even with the stretch marks, she was in way better shape than most moms seem to be," Wyatt said, "course, nowhere near as good shape as the mom I'm married to, but." "Awww, you dweeb," Scarlett said, giggling as she finished her ice cream cone while Wyatt - who had finished a few minutes earlier - was massaging her feet in his lap. He blushed at her affection and kept massaging her feet just as they heard their son start crying from upstairs. They both sighed, glancing at one another. This had been a problem for a while now, and neither were sure how to break him of the habit. Scarlett pulled her legs off Wyatt's lap and swung them over the side of the couch, heading upstairs as Wyatt picked up the remote and kept flipping through channels, eventually landing on the local news, where he saw a blonde woman with braces and pigtails, in a nice suit, in front of a weather map. "That's how things are shaping up for this week, it looks like a beautiful time to be outside, get some fresh air, even with the potential light showers ahead," she said, "I'm Kelly Shuester, and that's the weather. Back to you Adam." The camera cut to the front news desk, where a middle aged, yet attractive news anchor named Adam Lebarbara turned towards the camera and smiled, nodding. "Well, even after months of silence, one group is still protesting downtown constantly, and that group calls themselves The Evergreens. Dedicated to protecting our cities natural resources, they've hailed local, Oliver Brighton, as a hero for the environment, even in light of his despicable actions. They see his sacrifice as a necessary one. Here's Stacy with-" Wyatt immediately muted the television, just as the phone rang. He leaned to the side table by the couch and answered. "Y'ello?" he said, sighing, "yeah...yeah I saw." "This is ridiculous," Rachel said on the other end of the line, "how can they call him a hero after what he did? Did his supposedly singular act of heroism for the environment somehow alleviate the guilt of the crime of killing his goddamned family? Bullshit." "Well," Wyatt said, scratching his stubble, "nobody listens to them, so they're just shouting to the wind. It's nothing to worry about. What're you doing tomorrow?" "Nuffin'," Rachel said, shoving a handful of chips in her mouth, "you wanna do something?" "Sure. Scarlett's going to spend the day with her mother and she's taking our son, so Mona, you and I could go miniature golfing or something," Wyatt said. "That sounds cool, just gimme a call," Rachel said. Wyatt hung up the phone and sighed heavily, looking back at the TV screen, where Brighton's image was plastered as the reporters discussed the situation with Grudin, the murders, and the environmental disasters that'd been adverted as a result of everything. Wyatt couldn't watch this. He picked up the remote again and flipped channels, winding up on one of the softcore adult channels they had as Scarlett came back in, smirking as she climbed onto the couch again with him. "Oooh, watcha doin'?" she asked. "Not what you think, that's what," Wyatt said, laughing. "Could we be?" "We sure could," he replied, as Scarlett climbed on top of him and kissed him, Wyatt's hand reaching behind and slightly overhead, shutting off the floor lamp beside the couch. *** The following afternoon, while Sun Rai was at work and Scarlett was, indeed, shopping with her mother, Wyatt and Rachel - with Mona tagging along - headed to a local miniature golf course that Wyatt had frequented before. He and Mona met Rachel in the parking lot after they'd parked, and then together they all headed inside together, Mona running ahead of them excitedly. "I remember when I used to enjoy things that much," Rachel said. "That's a sad sentence," Wyatt replied, both of them chuckling. "You know what I mean, man, like...like being young and carefree," Rachel said, "always looking forward to something. Now I look forward to avoiding things. Adulthood is just a never ending attempt to find ways out of enduring it on a day to day basis." "Awww!" they heard Mona groan, and looked up towards her as she came walking back up to them, somewhat sullen. "What is it pumpkin?" Wyatt asked. "The airplane isn't working!" she said, annoyed, crossing her arms. "The airplane?" Rachel asked. "One of the holes here is a sort of animatronic airplane that goes up and down in front of a hole," Wyatt said, "well, we can just skip that hole, but I'm sorry. I know it's your favorite. What are all these people doing here?" Rachel shrugged, confused, as they headed to the ticket booth to procure clubs, balls and give payment. Once there, Wyatt looked at the irritated looking teenager behind the glass, and read her nametag, smiling. "Hiya Peggy," he said, "we'd like to golf, us and my daughter." "That'll be 14.50," Peggy said. As Wyatt dug into his wallet for the money, Rachel, who was chewing her nails, glanced over her shoulder again and then looked back at Peggy. "Hey, what's with everyone outside with the signs?" she asked. "It's the Evergreens," Peggy said, placing their clubs and balls on the counter, "they've been here for the last week and, frankly, it's gone past humorous to outright annoying." "Why...why would they be here?" Rachel asked. "Cause we want to expand, add onto the course, which of course means extending into an undeveloped piece of land and, of course, they hate that," Peggy said, "look, I'm not ubercapitalist, I think modern infrastructure and unchecked industrialization is as bad as anyone else rightfully should, but I'm trying to do my goddamned job and the people they should be targeting are the local government, not us. I just work here on the weekends, man." Wyatt laughed as he paid and grabbed their clubs and balls, as Rachel hit him on the arm. He looked at her, and noticed she was pointing back at the group, a few of which were holding signs with Brighton's picture on them and a slogan that said, "For a Brighton tomorrow!". Wyatt merely rolled his eyes, gathered Mona, and together they all headed inside to golf. *** Calvin stumbled down the staircase, from his bedroom at the top, wearing an old blue robe over a white v-neck and a pair of boxers, when he noticed his father wasn't alone in the kitchen. He could hear another mans voice, and as his eyes adjusted to the light in the kitchen, he realized it was Leonard Wattson. "Oh...Mr. Wattson, what...what are you doing here?" Calvin asked, yawning. "Oh, I came by to see you, but you weren't up yet, so I figured I'd talk to your folks," he said, smiling politely and tapping the mug on the table between his palms and adding, "your father makes a great cup of coffee, Calvin." "Can I have a cup of that?" Calvin asked, while his father got up and went to get another mug; as he poured coffee into it, Calvin looked from his dad to his former teacher, who seemed perfectly content sitting here in the kitchen of a former student, like this wasn't weird at all. After Barry gave Calvin his mug, he patted him on the shoulder and told him he'd give them some privacy, before exiting the kitchen. Calvin raised his mug to his lips and took a few sips, before finally exhaling, running a hand through his bedhead and looking Mr. Wattson square in the eye. "What are you doing here?" Calvin asked, repeating his first question. "Actually, Calvin, I was wondering if you were curious in doing a project together," Leonard said, "As I said at the college, I'm teaching, and I was wondering if you'd like to help now and then. I could even arrange to pay you, if you were curious. Be sort of a...a teacher for hire, hah." "...well, I certainly could use the income," Calvin said. "It's nothing serious," Leonard said, "just doing some filing, sometimes helping me with course projects, that kind of thing. Just figured you could use an excuse to get out of the house once in a while, do something you enjoyed, you know? Things have to be hard, considering." Calvin smiled weakly, thinking about what Leonard had said. He wasn't wrong, it would be nice to get out of the house from time to time, have something to focus on besides his grief and his guilt. It would be nice to be somewhat distracted from the mundane existence of his day to day life. He nodded, looking back up at him now. "I think that sounds like a fun idea," he said, "do you want to get some lunch, and we can discuss it more?" "Sounds like a plan," Leonard replied, smiling warmly. *** Celia was in her office, packing her things up to go to a meeting, when her new secretary, a young man named Randy, knocked on the door and opened it as he knocked. Celia looked up from her desk as he entered. "Um, someone is here to-" Wyatt walked in, outright ignoring his introduction, and Celia chuckled. "Thank you Randy," she said, waiting until Randy exited before looking at Wyatt, who proceeded to wander around her office, looking at her decorative decor and her various degrees hung on the wall; after a few moments, Celia finally asked, "what are you doing here?" "...so, you work the environment." "Yes, it's true, I represent all of nature, I do pro bono for squirrels," Celia replied. "You know what I mean," Wyatt said, turning to face her now, "...you hear about this group, Evergreen?" Celia went quiet, then exhaled deeply. She adjusted herself in her chair and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Must be serious if this discussion requires that level of physicality," Wyatt said. "I've been wondering when this would come up," Celia said, "truth is, I've been hoping you'd never come to me about it, but let me assure you that I'm already two steps ahead of you and six steps ahead of them." "Wow, that's eight whole steps." "Congratulations on passing basic 4th grade math," Celia said, smirking, "rest assured, nothing will come of it. They're annoying, but they won't be causing any issues, and besides, their beliefs regarding Oliver are so fringe nobody is taking them seriously, nor will they start to. They represent the worst facet of a good movement. That's why, when they came to me for legal counsel, I took them up on it. This way I can control the narrative. I can present weak cases in court, and keep them constantly under the laws thumb." Wyatt was, admittedly, shocked. He finally pulled a chair over to the desk and sat in it, staring at her wide eyed. "Excuse me what now?" he finally asked, "you're-" "Yes, I am representing them, because if anyone else did, they might have a chance to be a thorn in our side. Wyatt, they considering Oliver a martyr, do you realize how far people who believe in martyrs will go to get others to believe in their martyr? To clear their martyrs name? That's...that's not something we want. This way, I can actively destroy their chances, then tell them 'well, the court isn't always fair', and they go back to picketing, looking nutty." "...wow, I'm impressed," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the degrees on her wall and adding, "those aren't just for show, you actually did graduate law school." "Imagine that!" Celia said, laughing, "trust me when I say I have our best interests at heart. There's nothing you have to worry about right now. I know it seems concerning, but really, nobody is going to listen to them when it comes to defending a man who killed his family." Wyatt nodded, scratching the back of his head and then leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands, crying, surprising Celia with this open expression of vulnerability. "Wyatt?" she asked softly. "why did we do this," he asked through his tears, his voice wavy, "why...why didn't i stop it? why didn't i stop Calvin? it's all spun so far out of control." Celia stood up and walked around the desk, rubbing his back as she knelt by his chair. "I know," she whispered, resting her head against his arm, "I know. I'm sorry. But we'll get through it. Nothing worse could happen, at least." Oh if only she knew. If only she knew just how much worse would happen in just a few weeks. *** Leonard Wattson pulled open the large steel rolling door, then stared at the inside of the storage unit, hands on his hips, sighing and shaking his head. He walked inside and lifted the lid off a large plastic tub, then looked inside. He reached in and pulled out a small photo album, then started flipping through it, admiring the shots. Shots Oliver had taken. Shots of...well...young girls. Leonard plopped the book down into the tub, then leaned against it and looked at the wall of VHS tapes, film reels and DVDs lined against the wall across from him. Oliver had been the best. Oliver had pumped out the most in demand content from their clients, and it was always quality, premium stuff. Oliver never let his work slip, and he'd never be willing to let society know about his part in it. After all, he prided himself on being a 'family man'. To his neighbors, he was a loving father and husband. To his job, he was a dedicated craftsman. If only they knew the sick bastard he actually was. Leonard rubbed his hand down his face, exhaling. He didn't know where to turn for answers. All he knew was that he had to find something else to follow, some kind of lead, ANY kind of lead. Then there was Brian. He had to contend with Brian on some level at some point, give him something concrete. Leonard had found the unit, thankfully, by pretending to be related to Brighton, but that was only a small step in the right direction. How was he going to haul all of this stuff back to the city? Back to his own studio? He could rent a truck, but what guarantee would he have of its safety, and his...privacy? Leonard slammed his fist against the plastic tub behind him, and groaned. Goddammit Oliver, he thought, you goddamn idiot. You've put us all in the sights of danger with your actions, intentional or not. One day at a time. That's how he had to approach this. Tomorrow Leonard would go back to work, and start to approach the little sisters of the girls he had in his class. He had to start getting more girls on the payroll again. Had to make up for Brighton's losses resulting from his death. One day at a time. Leonard finally pushed himself away from the tub and walked back to the door of the unit. He reached up and grabbed the bar, tugging it down, giving the contents one more solemn glace before he pulled it shut entirely and locked it again. He tucked the key back into his shirt pocket and buttoned it tight, patting it with his palm and smiling as he walked back down the hall, back towards his car in the lot. So long as nobody else found the unit, he knew he'd be safe. But as Brighton's death had proved, nothing in life has guarantees.
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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