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Chapter 43 - PC Poaching.
Justin was pouting as they left Max’s office. Even after their fourth Physical Therapy appointment, it wasn't getting much easier for the boy, and he was letting his displeasure be known in his silently stubborn way. Brian knew that the exercises Max forced Justin to do were tiring and the stretching could be painful, but it did seem to be paying off. When the PT had retested Justin’s range of motion in his wrist it had shown definite improvement. His strength was increasing too. Brian knew from the very beginning that it was going to be slow going, especially considering how long it had been since the initial injury, but he figured any improvement was a good thing. And as long as it was helping he intended to keep making the boy go to therapy, even if the PT sessions themselves were a bit of a trial for the youth.
As they walked out of the office and headed towards the jeep, Brian was carefully massaging Justin’s hand. He could tell it was aching by the way the kid flinched when he touched certain spots. As soon as they got home, Brian would give the boy some aspirin, finish the hand massage, and then let the kid rest for a hour or two. The boy should be alright again by lunchtime. At least he hoped so. They had a metric fuck ton of work to do - including a lot of artwork for the new clients that Cynthia kept siphoning their way on an almost daily basis. Brian couldn’t afford to have his only artist out of commission for very long. And that didn’t even take into consideration the paintings that Sidney had been begging Justin for. Brian’s Sunshine was a very, very, busy boy these days.
They’d made it almost to the car when Brian’s cell phone started buzzing. He fished it out of the pocket of his leather jacket and looked at the caller ID, groaning when he saw that it was Cynthia again. The woman was relentless. She’d already called him once that morning, catching them before they’d left for the PT appointment. What else could she possibly have to tell him so soon? He reluctantly hit the button to answer the call and then, with his free hand, opened the passenger door for his exhausted PC.
“Cynthia, we just now left the PT’s office, so if you’re calling to see whether I’ve finished the hundred and two things you asked me to see to in your last call, the answer is ‘no’,” Brian complained as he walked around to the driver’s side of the vehicle and climbed in.
“Forget all that other stuff, Boss. We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Cynthia responded, sounding very excited.
“More stuff for me to do? How many hours a day do you think I can work, Cyn?” Brian groused, now pouting as much as Justin was.
“Would you just shut up already, Brian. I’m doing all this shit for you, you know. You could be at least a little appreciative,” the woman chastised. Brian, of course, followed directions and obediently shut up, allowing Cynthia to continue. “Okay, first of all, I think I finally found somebody who can help us with Justin’s situation. This one APC contact of mine - who is very discreet, I promise - recommended an attorney she knows. I checked her out and the woman is pretty well known as a crusader and PC rights expert. Her court record is pretty damn good, too. I think we should take her all the research we have on Stockwell and Taylor and see if she can give us some guidance on what to do next. Do I have your okay to call her and set up an appointment for us to meet with her?”
“Fuck, yeah! As soon as possible, Cyn,” Brian confirmed, peeking over at his passenger while trying not to give away the fact that he was talking about the boy. “I’ll feel a hell of a lot better once I know that somebody else is looking into this. The quicker we get this resolved and get that contract voided, the better.”
“I agree. I’ll sleep better knowing that Justin’s free - or at least that the process to get him that way has started. I’ll let you know as soon as I can get something scheduled,” Cynthia assured Brian, who already felt a bit of the weight being lifted off his shoulders with that news. “Now - and this is almost more exciting, at least in the more immediate term - I’ve got you another client . . .”
“Cynthia, there’s no fucking way I can take on another new client,” Brian cut her off with his protest. “Not unless the client can wait for a month or two before we can promise anything. I appreciate your zeal, Cyn. I really do. But there’s just no fucking way that Justin and I alone can take on any more work right now. As it is, the kid’s drawing and painting pretty much all day and night. His hand is going to fucking give out if we keep this up. You’re going to have to tell whoever it is that we can’t get to them for at least a few weeks.”
“This isn’t just ANOTHER client, Brian. This is a BIG FUCKING DEAL client. A client that’s big enough to get Kinnetik set up for real and let me break away from VanGuard for good,” she insisted, and then paused for dramatic effect.
“Fine. I’ll bite. Who is it?”
“Eyeconics.”
“No shit?” Brian was so surprised it took him a minute to wrap his head around the news. “Wow. They are major - it’s a nationwide account. It’s worth, what . . . Half a million a year? How the fuck did you get them, Cyn? I thought the cunt who owned the company hated me?”
“Apparently not,” Cynthia explained, sounding exceptionally gleeful, “because Kellie McQuaid threw a fit this morning when she came in to meet with Gardner about renewing their contract and found out that he’d given the account to Brice. She went totally ballistic, refused to work with some - and I quote - ‘wet behind the ears puppy’, demanded that he put you back on her account, told Vance that, in her experience, you were the best in the industry, and then almost tore him a new one when she found out you weren’t working for the agency anymore. She threw Brice out of the room, actually. It was pretty hilarious. I could hear him whining about it all the way back to his office. Vance tried to placate her, but nothing doing. She stormed out of his office. You should have seen Vance’s face,” Cynthia chuckled, apparently amused at the memory. “Luckily, I was able to run down the stairs and meet her when she got out of the elevator in the lobby. And let’s just say she was more than thrilled to hear that you were starting your own agency. But the catch is that she’s only in town for today - she’s off to visit their manufacturing plant in California on the seven pm Liberty Air flight. So, you have to meet with her this morning.”
“When?”
“An hour from now,” Cynthia announced, sounding apologetic but firm as she detailed the arrangements she’d already made on Brian’s behalf. “I’ve reserved a meeting room for you at the Fairmont. I'll fax over a blank contract and all the other paperwork you’ll need. It should be a slam dunk. McQuaid wants you back pretty badly, Brian. She was tickled pink that you could fit her in at the last minute like this. I think she’ll be especially grateful and therefore, hopefully, generous with the contract terms.”
“Okay. Fuck! I have no idea how we're going to do this, but you’re right, Cynthia. I can’t afford to say no to somebody like Eyeconics . . .” Brian was already starting the car and pulling out of the parking space, his mind spinning with all the details of what he’d need to do to land this particular client, when his phone beeped to indicate he had yet another incoming call. “Fuck, just email or fax me everything you’ve got on Eyeconics, Cyn. I’ll look it over when I get to the Fairmont. Gotta go.” Brian tapped at his phone to switch to the other call as he maneuvered the jeep towards the exit of the parking lot, only half looking at his phone. “Kinney,” he answered.
“So you’re finally taking my calls, now, Brian?” Lindsey’s snooty voice greeted him.
“Not intentionally. I just didn’t look at the caller ID before I answered,” Brian answered truthfully, albeit rudely. “I thought I told you not to fucking call me, Lindsey. Why are you wasting my time.”
“Well, I did have something important to tell you, Brian,” she responded, bridling at the instant hostility in Brian’s answer. “I thought I’d better warn you about all the trouble your skanky little PC is about to land you in. But, if you’re going to be an asshole, then maybe you don’t deserve to hear what I’ve got to say . . .”
“Listen, Lindsey, I’ve got an important business meeting I need to get ready for and I’ve got to get all the way downtown in less than an hour. I don’t have time to listen to more of your groundless complaints and dire warnings about how evil Justin is. Would you just give it up already?” Brian practically screamed into the phone before ending the call.
Brian tossed the phone down on the console just as he pulled out of the office complex drive and onto the highway. He was still grumbling angrily to himself about Lindsey, unthinking prejudice, crazy PAs, annoying clients, too much stress, and all the other injustices of the world, when he pulled the car up to the curb in front of the loft. Despite his hurry, though, he took the time to go around the front of the car, open the passenger door and patiently wait for Justin to fumble his way out of the vehicle. Then, claiming his Sunshine’s hand, he led the boy inside and up the stairs to the loft, absentmindedly massaging the boy’s aching hand all the way. Justin trotted along at his side, smiling all the while at the caring man who was so solicitous even when he was too busy to notice he was being caring.
Once in the loft, however, Brian left the boy to his own devices while he rushed around like a madman. He quickly changed into one of his more elegant designer suits - Kellie McQuaid was an even bigger label queen than he was, and he wanted to impress her - and made sure his hair was attractively messed up. Then he packed up his leather Gucci attaché case. Finally, he scrambled around looking for his pair of Eyeconics sunglasses. He didn’t really like them all that much - preferring his Raybans most of the time - so he rarely wore them and couldn’t remember where he’d put the shades the last time. But it wouldn’t do at all to show up wearing glasses made by the potential client’s competitor.
After futilely searching through both his bedroom dresser and the desk for more than ten minutes, Brian eventually recalled that he’d put the glasses in the kitchen junk drawer. Racing over to the kitchen, he yanked open the drawer and rifled through the clutter inside. The drawer was practically overflowing with crap. He had no idea why he’d kept most of the useless shit in there. Granted, there were a couple necessary things in the drawer, like the few tools he kept on hand, sets of spare keys, an extra lighter and the like. But there was also stuff he really needed to toss, like the odious leather collar Justin had been wearing when Brian brought him home from the PC auction and even that horrible Enforcer thing. That shit needed to go. Brian mentally berated himself for not cleaning it all out before and vowed to do it at the very next opportunity.
But that would not be today. He was already ridiculously late. Giving up on the neat approach, Brian scooped up handfuls of the junk and simply tossed it all on the counter top. After about half the drawer was emptied out, he finally found the all-important sunglasses, fishing them out from where they’d been shoved to the very back. Popping them into his suit coat pocket, Brian turned to his PC, kissed the boy on the lips and told him to get some rest, then grabbed his case and was gone.
********
The boy watched Brian bustling around with an approving smile on his lips.
The Master was such a good man. He worked so hard. He was up to his eyeballs in work, trying to get his new business off the ground while still taking the boy to all of his doctor and PT appointments, making sure the young artist had enough supplies to keep painting and at the same time working with his lawyer on a legal case to get court ordered visitation with his son. It was a fucking lot of shit all happening at once. But somehow Brian was still managing. The boy was impressed and also endlessly grateful.
Even if he was a little teed off at being forced to go to the painful PT appointments.
Scrunching his face up as another pang of pain bolted through his right arm, the boy tried to flex the wrist in order to relieve the ache. It didn’t really work though. Usually the Master would sit and massage the claw for a good twenty minutes after every PT session before it would start to feel better. Today, though, he just hadn’t had the time. The boy understood the time constraints Brian had that day, and he wasn’t at all upset over the way the Master had run off, but it didn’t mean his hand wasn’t still throbbing. And on top of everything else, he was starting to get one of those headaches that sometimes accompanied the cramping in his hand. It was a horrible combination.
All this was really bad timing too. The boy had a ton of work to do. He needed to get some preliminary drawings done for two of the Master’s clients as well as start on a commissioned painting job that Mr. Bloom had secured for him. But he really didn’t feel well enough to do any of that right then. Assuming he could even force his hand to work correctly.
What the boy really wanted to do was take one of the super-strong pain pills that Dr. Ruby had prescribed for him and then take a nap. He hoped that would be enough to get him going again. And the Master HAD told him to rest, right?
The boy plodded up to the bathroom, swallowed a pill from the bottle he located in the medicine cabinet and then shuffled back over to the couch. He pulled over the afghan that Brian had taken to leaving there for him and curled up into a warm little ball. The boy was asleep in only minutes.
********
Lindsey hesitated before putting the key into the lock of the loft’s big metal door. She knew, deep down inside, that what she was doing was wrong, but she was still so angry at Brian for the way he'd been treating her lately that she really didn't care. Why did that damned man have to be so stubborn? And stupid. Why wouldn't he just listen to her? After all, she only wanted what was best for him. Why couldn't he see that the sleazy little PC was nothing but trouble?
And when she'd called him that morning to warn him about just how MUCH trouble was in store for him because of the whore he was harboring, he'd blown her off, insulted her and then hung up. She'd been so enraged by the rude rebuff that she'd immediately called Craswell back and told him she'd do what he'd asked. Fuck it all! It served Brian right for being such an ass to her. And he'd probably thank her in the end - once he was no longer under that boy’s spell.
Besides, it was too late to back out now. She'd already told Craswell that Brian would be out of the loft that morning because of his business meeting and she had even offered to let him inside using her key. Craswell had assured her that they didn’t want to hurt anyone. His friends would simply take the boy and resell him. Brian would get back all the money he'd wasted on the slut and the kid would become somebody else’s problem. Brian would be free of the debt and the responsibility. Free to return to his life as it had been before the Personal Companion darkened his doorstep. And also free to become the father to Gus that Lindsey knew he had the potential to be.
It was really the best outcome for everyone, Lindsey reassured herself, as she keyed open the door.
Taking a deep breath, Lindsey slid the door open just far enough to slip inside. She paused on the threshold, looking around at the loft and quickly ascertaining that it was quiet and seemingly empty. There were no lights on and no movement. Which was good. She had checked in the garage before she came in and hadn’t seen Brian’s jeep, but the last thing she wanted was to have misjudged Brian’s departure time and be caught snooping. Unfortunately, it looked like nobody at all was home - meaning that Brian must have taken his pet slut with him.
Oh well. She had tried. Craswell couldn’t fault her if Brian had taken the PC with him. When Craswell and his friends showed up, she’d just explain that the whore wasn’t there and they’d have to find another way to get the boy.
While she was waiting for the others to show, Lindsey figured she might as well help herself to a bottle of water. She wandered into the kitchen and noted that it was uncharacteristically messy. There appeared to be a lot of stuff strewn all over the counter and one of the drawers was opened with even more mess hanging out of it. That wasn’t like Brian. He was usually such an OCD freak about his place. It was probably that boy’s fault - messing up Brian’s house and being too slovenly to pick up after himself. He really was trouble. Why didn’t Brian see it?
Lindsey decided to help Brian out by putting everything away and started sorting through the piles of odds and ends. She neatly and efficiently organized the drawer contents, putting the larger tools and suchlike on the right, larger items that looked infrequently used to the back and then grouping the smaller items like rubber bands, string, boxes of thumbtacks and other usefulness doodads in the front left. Once she’d got all the stuff she felt was worth keeping sorted out, she looked over what was still remaining on the counter. A lot of this stuff was obviously junk. There were pieces of broken plastic, beat up old knickknacks and other trash. She scooped all that into the trash. Which left only a few items that she didn’t recognize and didn't know what to do with.
The first of these that she came to looked like a dog’s collar. She picked it up, curious about why someone who didn’t have a pet and didn’t even like dogs would have a collar in his home. It took a minute or two before the answer occurred to her and she realized the collar wasn’t meant for a dog, but for a human. Wrinkling her nose with distaste, she dropped the collar into the trash with the rest of the garbage. Hopefully, Brian wouldn’t be needing that any longer. Not if her plan to get rid of the skank - with the help of Simon Craswell’s friends - was successful.
There were a few other items there that, try as she might, she didn’t have a clue about. She didn’t want to throw out anything that Brian might need, so all of these got put back in the drawer. The last item she came across looked to be some type of electronic remote control device. She’d just picked it up and was about to add it to the other items left in the drawer when she heard the loft door, which she’d left slightly ajar, being noisily shoved open until it banged loudly against the metal doorstop.
Lindsey turned to greet the new arrival, expecting to see Simon Craswell. The three men that trooped into the room, however, were complete strangers. She took a couple of steps toward them, prepared to ask who they were and what they were doing, but was surprised by another noise coming from the direction of the living room and turned to see what it was instead.
“Noooo!” the blond boy who’d risen from the couch moaned as soon as he saw the men who’d invaded his home. “No. No. No, no, no, no, no . . . “ he kept repeating in a despairing voice as he backed away towards the farthest corner of the room.
“Get him!” the oldest of the three newcomers ordered.
Lindsey watched as the other two - both big men with bulging muscles and ugly expressions on their large faces - stomped across the room and closed in on the apparently terrified boy.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Lindsey demanded, going up to the man who seemed to be in control. “Where is Simon?”
“You didn’t expect the bosses to get their hands dirty by coming here themselves, did you?” The man laughed at her, his greasy, long, dark blond hair bobbing in his eyes as he chuckled and looked her over like a slab of meat. “Your friend Simon is way too prissy for this kind of job, Sugartits. He and the others are probably off somewhere making sure they all have airtight alibis in case something goes wrong here. A bunch of fucking cowards, if you ask me. But, then again, that’s why they pay us to do their dirty work for them, so I guess I can’t complain - I am getting paid pretty fucking well for this job. Not that this little pissant is going to cause us much trouble. Now are you boy?”
By that time, the two thugs had dragged a kicking and struggling Justin over to where Lindsey and the leader were waiting. One of the brutes had his hand over the boy’s mouth, trying to squelch the kid’s protests, but he was still being pretty loud. Lindsey looked towards the open door with worry. She hadn’t expected anything like THIS. She didn’t want someone in the building to hear all the noise, come in, and see her there while all this was going on. Luckily, it didn’t look like they’d drawn an audience yet.
The closer the boy got to the man waiting next to Lindsey, the harder he struggled. The leader just grinned at the scene with this almost maniacal smile that made Lindsey’s hair stand on end. He laughed even louder when the PC started shrieking frantically as soon as the group came to a halt right in front of him. The hand over the boy’s face barely did anything to muffle the noise. But it didn’t seem to faze the leader at all. He just reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of the youth’s face in an almost tender caress.
“Miss me, my sweet?” he cooed venomously.
The PC thrashed his head violently to the side - the abrupt movement dislodging his captor’s muzzling hand - and started screaming louder and more hysterically than Lindsey had ever heard anyone scream. The thugs tried to get the boy under control but he was now completely berserk. He was flailing about, kicking, and twisting his body frenziedly with such utter desperation that even those two mammoths couldn’t seem to restrain him.
The leader didn’t seem very happy with this turn of events. He was scowling at the spectacle with his fists clenched at his sides. Finally, when it looked like the boy might actually shake free from his abductors, the leader growled with disapproval and started to look around him for another way to subdue the kid.
He didn’t have to look very far, either. Lindsey, who was standing next to the man, too stunned to do or say anything, was still holding onto the electronic device she’d picked up off Brian’s counter. As soon as the leader noticed what was in her hand, he smiled as if he’d just been handed a treat and started chuckling maniacally. With what Lindsey could only describe as an evil gleam in his eye, he reached over, wrenched the item out of her hand, then turned and pointed the device at the struggling boy, his thumb pressing down on one of the buttons on the controller.
The previously combative Personal Companion instantly froze, his body going rigid, his mouth open in a silent cry, standing there transfixed in space for a good ten seconds before dropping to the ground, where he went on twitching and convulsing at the leader’s feet while the three men hovered over him guffawing at the tableau in front of them.
“Thanks for this, Sweetheart. This Enforcer will make our job much easier. Not that I mind it when they put up a bit of a fight, but my orders were to get in and get this done as quietly as possible. The Bosses don’t want no trouble, you know, and they really get chuffed when the merchandise gets damaged. But this,” the man tweaked a knob on the device and laughed again at the way the body on the floor jerked even more violently in response, “should make things a breeze.”
Lindsey stood there speechless. She had absolutely no idea what to do or say. When she’d agreed to help Simon get access to the boy, she hadn’t expected to be a part of anything like THIS. She didn’t want the boy hurt. She just wanted him away from Brian. This was . . . too much.
Before she could protest though, the twitching body on the floor arched up violently in one final spasm and then collapsed and lay still. The leader switched off the controller in his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. The other two hoodlums calmly bent down and hoisted up the now inert body, one holding the kid’s legs and the other gripping under his armpits.
“Get him into the van. Make sure nobody sees you on the way out. I’ll be right behind you,” the leader directed as he walked around the loft and efficiently righted the items of furniture that had been knocked over in the boy’s struggles. “Well, that looks good to me,” he announced when all was set to rights. “Pleasure doing business with you, Goldilocks. See you around, sometime.”
Then, without any further ado, the man sauntered out of the loft and trotted down the stairs to meet up with his friends. Lindsey just stood there, paralyzed and blinking. It had all happened so fast. She looked around herself dazedly but found no guidance in the empty loft.
What had she done?