Mona was at school, their son was at Wyatt's parents, and Scarlett had social plans, which left Wyatt with plenty of time for himself, and today he found himself doing simple cataloguing and restocking around the store. It was a slow day, the place was fairly empty, and Ben hadn't come into work either, so he was all alone. Or rather, he would've been, if Celia hadn't stopped by. Now seated on a small stepladder beside him, smoking a joint and watching him do inventory, Celia couldn't help but shake her head in exasperation from the conversation they'd been having.
"We need a contingency plan," Celia said, continuing the conversation of the last half hour; she added after a quick puff, "we need, you know, a backup in case something goes terribly wrong. I'm not saying it will, but it would sure as shit make me feel a lot more comfortable rather than our general plan of just fucking winging it." "We're not winging it," Wyatt said, chuckling as he started to stock some outdoor lightbulbs, "I've always got a plan." "Hide in the attic with a shotgun is not a plan," Celia said, "that's a last stand." "Better than nothing," Wyatt said, shrugging. "...I feel like I should argue with you on that but I also don't know how," Celia remarked under her breath, taking another long puff before checking her wristwatch and sighing, "fuck. I should get back to the office. Walk me to my car?" "Yeah sure, I could use some fresh air," Wyatt said, putting his supplies down and heading out the stores front with Celia. As they headed through the parking lot - Celia had actually parked across the street - Wyatt couldn't help but smile at what a beautiful day it was today. "Why's the parking lot always so crowded?" Celia asked, "there's not even anyone here." "It's the lunch rush for the place next door," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, "they have an insane amount of loyal clientele apparently. Never eaten there though. I don't trust anyplace that's that popular. Makes it seem like they must put mind control drugs in the food." Celia and Wyatt laughed as they arrived across the street and into the other parking lot, still strolling towards her car. That's when they noticed the group of people dressed in brightly colored clothing, were hanging around a van, handing out flyers to anyone who happened to come remotely close to them. Celia groaned and shielded one side of her face as they got closer. "What is it?" Wyatt asked. "It's the Evergreens, don't look at-" But it was too late, Wyatt had already glanced out of sheer curiosity, which led to a very young woman - she couldn't have been older than 19 perhaps - to run over to them excitedly and begin walking alongside Wyatt. "Hi! I'm Angie!" she said, "Um, so we're the Evergreens, and we're out here promoting better laws to protect the environment, particularly our local habitats since that's where we can make the biggest difference. So I have this flyer, and some papers, and if you want, maybe you can-" "Angie, I'm gonna stop you right there," Wyatt said, turning to face her, smiling politely, "you seem like an intelligent young woman and your enthusiasm is so infectious the CDC is going to classify you as a pandemic, but quite frankly, I couldn't give less than two shits about your martyr. What you're doing is commendable, yes, the environment - especially local things that add value to the community - should be saved and protected at all costs, but the man you're all parading around killed his family. He killed his little daughters, his wife, and then himself. He's not a hero, no matter what his moral beliefs in other aspects might say. There's no justifying monstrous behavior. You can't just ignore an entire person killing their family and then cherry pick the parts you like best about them to make them look good. So Angie, you seem like a smart kid, but you shouldn't be involved with these people, okay? You're gonna get hurt." With that, he patted her on the arm and he and Celia continued on their way. *** Calvin Klepper liked being at the college. Even though he did most of his work from home, he enjoyed going in and taking it to Leonard in person. Reminded him of being in college himself, a time in his life he genuinely appreciated. As he headed down the halls and reached Leonard's classroom, he was annoyed with himself because he had been a bit late. He'd told Leonard he'd be here earlier, but he must've had something bad for lunch, because Calvin then found himself sitting in the bathroom on his knees for a good 45 minutes before finally feeling well enough to drive over. Either way, hand reaching for the door, he hoped that Leonard would forgive him for his tardiness. As Calvin tugged the door open, however, he was stopped dead in his tracks. Leonard had a young short haired brunette girl pushed up against his desk and was kissing her, her shirt partially undone. Leonard, upon spotting Calvin, quickly stopped what was happening and the two locked eyes. The girl, after recognizing the awkwardness, quickly gathered her things and left. After she was out of the room, Calvin slowly approached the desk as Leonard put on his glasses, readjusting them and chuckling. "College girls, am I right?" he asked. "That wasn't a college girl," Calvin said sternly, "that was Patty O'Tool's 9th grade sister. She's 15." Leonard stopped and stood there, the two of them, each on either side of the desk, staring one another down. "And why do you know this?" Leonard asked, reaching up and adjusting his frames. "Because I've helped Patty O'Toole on numerous occasions here with her work, and her little sister is usually with her because she'll pick her up and bring her here so she doesn't have to be alone at home since their parents work late," Calvin said, his fingers gripping the files he'd brought over all the tighter now, "so you mind telling me why you're making out with a high schooler? Or you gonna play ignorant like you don't know?" Leonard stood there, hands in his pockets, before he finally exhaled and looked down at his shoes. He walked towards the door, locked it, then turned back to face Calvin. "...you know teachers don't make much pay, right?" he asked, "you know that I can barely survive. Even college professors don't always make the best money. You've seen my rinky dink ass apartment, Calvin, you know how I live. How I can afford to live on the salary they give me anyway. A lot of teachers take up second jobs. A way to support themselves while supporting themselves. My second job just so happens to be a little more frowned upon than others." "You're not here to teach, are you?" Calvin asked, his voice low but angry. "I am, but it's not my primary function, no," Leonard said. "You came for Brighton, didn't you? I saw the key to his storage unit on your keyring," Calvin said, "They were right." "Were you the one who entered the unit?" Leonard asked, "I thought it looked a little shuffled through." "You're a sick sack of shit," Calvin said through his gritted teeth. "I provide a service," Leonard said sternly, "one that, yes, is perhaps looked down upon but one that people want to have. By providing said material, perhaps I'm helping others out there to relieve their fantasies without hurting someone else to do so." "But you're still hurting children by creating it!" Calvin shouted, throwing the files at Leonard, who ducked, surprised at this action as Calvin continued, "you can't pretend like it's a noble cause when the production of it is mired in abuse! You're still doing terrible fucking things! So...so you paid Brighton to use his daughters to get your sick material made, that you were then able to peddle to others?" "I'm not the top of the food chain, Calvin," Leonard said, "I'm not the man in charge, I was just A man in charge. But yes. Essentially. Now the way I see it, is we have two options here at this point. Either we walk away from one another, completely disappointed in a failed partnership but never saying anything to anyone regardless, or you could join me. You could make good money, Calvin. Have your own home again. Have a family again someday. And, you know what, because I respect you, I'd even give you a stipulation. Once you had what you wanted, got to where you want to be, you could stop, no questions asked." "Well I'll have you know that I've hidden some of that unit material elsewhere, and I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to give it to the authorities and bring you down," Calvin said, approaching the desk and leaning on it, snarling at Leonard who just smirked and shook his head. "Calvin," he said, "I'm a pillar of the community. An educator. People trust me to be with their kids. Who're they going to believe? You? A washed up sad excuse of a man who's lost everything? Who lives with his parents again and creates fantastical lies to make his life more exciting than it actually is? Think about what you're proposing," Leonard said, "so Brighton killed Grudin and then himself, or vice versa, either way Brighton is out of the picture and I need someone to replace him. You wouldn't even have to produce the material, Cal, I wouldn't make you do that. Just oversee production in general. Or you could continue being nobody." Calvin stepped back and groaned. Leonard had him over a barrel. "Mr. Wattson, why would you...just why?" he finally asked. "People have their proclivities, and some are much more immoral than others but they're still proclivities," Leonard said, "I'm trying to help people overcome these things in the safest manner possible. I don't condemn them for their interests, not that I approve either, but at least, like I said, perhaps I can stop them from hurting others if I provide them with material." "You cannot tell me you're not approving when you're making out with goddamned high schoolers!" Calvin shouted, "We're done." Calvin turned and hastily exited, leaving Leonard Wattson to sit on his desk, thinking about what just transpired. Once Calvin got outside, back into the hall, he leaned against it and began to dry heave. Everyone had been right. He'd tried so hard to give Mr. Wattson the benefit of the doubt, he'd even become his friend, but Wyatt and Rachel and Celia, they'd all been right. His head swam. He needed to...he needed to... ...he needed to build a bomb. *** Rachel was at her apartment, making coffee. Despite it being almost 8pm, she still wanted coffee, despite Sun telling her before she headed to her parents not to do it. But, whatever, screw her. Sun wasn't here, and coffee was. As Rachel started the machine, someone knocked at her door. She sighed and went to answer it, surprised to find Calvin standing there. "Oh!" she said, "Oh, what are you-" "He's the one," Calvin said, making his way into the apartment, Rachel shutting the door behind him and pulling her overshirt closed over her underwear, looking at him funny; Calvin started pacing and continued, "Mr. Wattson, he's the one. He did it. He did it all. You guys were right. You were right all along." "Calvin, just...breath, okay?" Rachel said, approaching him, putting a hand on his arm, "Calm down, okay, and just tell me slow as you can what-" "Why is the world so fucking sick, Rachel?" Calvin asked, his face streaming with tears, his eyes red like he'd already been crying for hours, "why...why do people get so much enjoyment out of hurting one another, innocent people too! Innocent fucking people! Like children! And nobody stops them! Somebody has to stop them! ...somebody has to stop them..." Rachel put her hand to her heart, feeling genuinely sad for Calvin. He was in so much pain, had so much grief, and she didn't know how to help him. "You know how people pray when they go to bed?" Calvin asked, wiping his face on his flannel sleeve, clearing his throat, "I pray too. I pray that I die. I wish I'd been in that car. I wish it'd been me and not my daughters and not my wife. I wish, maybe...even just one of them had survived. The world without family is cold fucking place, Rachel. I know you know that, being queer and being separate from your family as a result of that, I know you know what I mean. The world feels so fucking bleak and empty, even if you have great friends like you are, but..." Calvin leaned against the wall and ran both hands down his face, taking a long, deep breath. "...I'm not a bad person. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a monster. I'm just cleaning up the trash everyone else is willing to leave littering the streets," he said, voice still shaky, "I think I'm disappointed, more than anything else. Someone I trusted so much, believed in, admired...and he's just as bad as the rest of the filth. Really goes to show you never know someone, huh?" Calvin reached for the door, but Rachel grabbed his shirt. "You're gonna be okay to drive?" she asked. "I didn't drink," Calvin said, smirking, "but yeah, I think...I think I'll be alright. I'm gonna go home, plunge myself into a project." "That's a good idea, a hobby always helps," Rachel said, smiling back. As she watched Calvin leave, standing there in the doorway, she couldn't have known. She couldn't have known that he was going to build another bomb. That he had plans to take someone else out. And really who could fault her? How could she had known that in less than 72 hours...Calvin Klepper would have killed over one hundred people? *** Leonard Wattson opened the door to his apartment and flicked on the lights. He plopped his suitcase down by the door, shut it behind him, then headed for the fridge. He needed some lemonade. Anything to take his mind off today. He was reckless, he knew that, he knew he shouldn't have gotten involved on school grounds. But Calvin had been so late, he just didn't expect him to show up at all, and he let his libido get the better of him. Leonard pulled the lemonade container from the fridge, popped the cap off and took a good, long swig. Afterwards he leaned against the fridge, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the lemonade container, and licked his lips and sighing. He'd have to leave. That much he knew. He hadn't really gained anything out of coming back here, and the only thing he'd truly done was ruin a former favorite students opinion of him. He had to go now. There was nothing to be found from this Brighton case, he was dead, his family was dead, and if there had been some kind of cover up, there was nothing he could find of it. He had at one point, especially tonight, questioned whether Calvin had been the one to have had a hand in it, but he couldn't really believe that. All Calvin had done was enter a former classmates storage unit, likely out of curiosity. No. Leonard didn't want to do anymore damage to Calvin than Calvin had already done to himself. It was time to go. Leonard figured that, in the morning, he would gather up his most important things, tell the school there was an emergency and book a plane ticket to his former city for a few days from now. He drank some more lemonade, before recapping it and putting it back in the fridge. *** "Hello?" Kelly answered, picking up the phone and tucking it under her chin, smiling as she heard Wyatt's voice, "hiya! What are you doing calling me?" "Just checkin' in," Wyatt said, "Wife isn't home yet, kids are in bed, so I got lonely. What are you up to? I'm just watching some thing on the history channel about mummies and curses." "Sounds like a good time," Kelly remarked as she plopped down some more folded clothes into a suitcase, "Actually, I'm packing. I leave for CloudCon in like two days, so. Have to get this stuff ready to roll, pronto, you know? I'm a little excited too cause it got a few more days added to it, but I only needed to attend the stuff I was already going, but since I can stay on the news channels dime, I'll just relax by the pool." "Anything to get some paid time off, right?" Wyatt asked, raising his beer to his lips and sipping it, sighing, "alright, well, what are you up to tomorrow? You still need to pack or you wanna have lunch or something?" "That could be arranged," Kelly said, smiling as she locked her suitcase and sat on the bedside, "um...you gonna be alright with me being gone for a little while? Hah. I know that, ya know, lately we've been pretty chummy just cause you needed someone and I don't mind being there and helping and listening if it keeps you from, ya know, throwing yourself off a bridge, but still. You think you'll be okay til I get back?" "I think so, yeah," Wyatt said, nodding to himself, "things aren't so bad right now." "I'll stop by before I leave, just to see you and your family!" Kelly said, "but sure, let's do lunch tomorrow." They made some plans - lunch at a little mexican place near the studio so she didn't have to go far - and then they hung up their respective phones. Wyatt exhaled deeply through his nose and lifted his beer back to his lips. He liked having friends. He liked knowing that he had people he could talk to, who weren't a part of his family or the weird fucked up situation he'd gotten himself into, who just wanted to genuinely listen to him. If only he'd done something sooner. If only he'd made Calvin listen to him. If only they'd been actual friends instead of mildly irritated acquaintances, all of this could've possibly been avoided. Because 72 hours from now, Wyatt and Calvin would be standing in Wyatt's kitchen, Wyatt grabbing and shaking Calvin by the collar of his shirt, screaming at him for something he could've stopped, if only he'd seen the warning signs.
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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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