CHAPTER 14:  WHO’S FOOLING WHO?

FOXX RESIDENCE

BELLE AIRE ESTATES, PA

“Now remember what I said, Michael. While I’m visiting dear old Dad, make small talk with the butler. He should be able to tell you something, or at the very least point you in the direction of someone who can,” Lindsay reminded him for what must have been the hundredth time since leaving the police station.

“Jeez, Lindz, I got it already! Hit up the butler for information.” Michael rolled his eyes again.

“And don’t do that!” she scolded. “No matter how mundane the comment, there is usually some meaning behind it. The key is to retain any and all information so that we can get Brian away from Justin Taylor as soon as possible. Remember what happens if you fail.”

“What makes you so sure that it will be me failing? You have more at stake here, Lindsay; I just want to point that out!”

She sighed again, unable to deny the truth of his words. She did have more at stake at the moment. Because of her mother’s immense fuck up, she was in danger of having all avenues into this vaunted world locked to her. She couldn’t allow that to happen, despite the fact that her parents- or more accurately, her mother and the man she’d known as her father- were getting a divorce. This was her chance to make a very valuable connection, regardless of whether the man lived to see another day or not.

“Sadly, you’re right, Michael. Once the news of trouble within the Peterson household leaks out, everyone will be wary about wanting to get involved with Mother and me. It’s not that they won’t choose a side amongst themselves, only that they will want to appear as staying neutral. And like it or not, Ronald Peterson has a lot of clout within this circle.”

“Then why are you worried?” Michael asks. “As of right now, no one really knows the secret of your mom playing hide the salami with this Foxx guy. It’s only a rumor.”

“True, but rumors among the Elite have been known to sink plans and kill dreams faster than if one would be found guilty of an actual crime. It’s hard to explain, but…”

Michael perked up as he had a sudden idea. “Well if that’s the case, Lindz, wouldn’t it stand to reason that it could also work in the case of Justin Taylor? I mean, he’s well known within this set, isn’t he?”

Lindsay thought a moment, negating the echo of Ron’s warning in her head. Looking at it from Michael’s point of view, spreading gossip to the right person, or group, could raise certain doubts about the Taylors character. She would have to give it some more thought and then seek out the perfect person to spread it around. Looking out of the window as the taxi turned into the long driveway, she said “I don’t know if it would work the same way, Michael. But let me think about it a little more. Besides, we’re here so let’s concentrate on what we can do right now.”

Michael nodded as the cab came to a stop in front of their destination. “Oh my God, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a real mansion!”

“I know. Isn’t it magnificent?” Lindsay breathed, after alighting from the taxi and instructing the driver to wait. Turning back to Michael, she smiled. “Are you ready to go in?”

He was still gawking at the massive home, daydreaming about him and Brian eventually buying a place similar. He shook himself out of his reverie due to the subtle nudge of elbow that Lindsay had pushed into his side. “Yes. Yes, let’s go, Lindsay. If the outside looks like this, I can’t wait to see what the inside will be like.”

Lindsay moved towards the steps before she stopped to issue another warning. “Michael, I’m concerned that you will wind up looking as if you are casing the valuables within the house. Although I understand your fascination, please do try to act as if this is a commonplace occurrence for you. If you don’t, trust me, the butler will dial the police and attract the type of attention that we simply do not want at this juncture.”

He took a while, noting the difference in Lindsay’s speech immediately. Just as he’d told her she would, Lindsay began speaking in even more proper tones than she did when she was on Liberty Avenue. “I knew you were going to pull this garbage,” he growled.

“Whatever do you mean, Michael?”

“The moment we set tire into this part of town, all of a sudden you start sounding like a cross between Martha fucking Stewart and Hillary fucking Clinton!”

“Language, Michael!” Lindsay said, clutching the imitation pearl necklace around her neck.

“Don’t you language me, Lindsay!” Michael warned before lowering his voice. “Look, let’s just do this thing and get out of here before you get centstruck.”

“Centstruck?”

“Yeah. I’ve watched you do that shit over Brian enough when he’d either buy something new or pull out his cash to give you some of it. Being around money makes you cream in a way that I’m not interested in smelling, so let’s hurry the hell up so that I can get back to where I belong… and you, too!”

Lindsay hurriedly followed a marching Michael up the remainder of the stairs, not having enough time to stop him before he’d rung the doorbell. “Michael, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but there is nothing wrong with using proper English.”

“It’s not the properness of your English that I’m worried about, but the thoughts and meanings behind the words, Lindsay. It’s the fucking attitude!”

Before Lindsay could respond or admonish Michael about his crude language, the locks on the door were being turned. “We will finish this discussion later.”

“You bet your ass we will,” he muttered, but she heard him anyway.

The door opened to reveal a man taller than Brian. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“Yes. My name is Lindsay Peterson, and this is my friend, Michael Novotny. I would like to see Mr. Foxx, please?”

“Mr. Foxx is not receiving visitors at this time.”

Lindsay adopted her sympathetic face. “I’d heard that he was ill. But I also came across some disturbing news that my mother imparted to me just this morning, concerning my connection to him. Can you just ask him if he would like to speak with me? I know that he must rest, but well, it’s quite important… for both of us.”

He showed them into the parlor, advising that he would go and verify. As Lindsay settled into an armchair, Michael walked around the room. He’d been looking at a painting before he noticed the small signature of the artist in the corner. “God. This guy is everywhere,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about now, Michael?” Lindsay asked, exasperated.

“The fact that this painting is a Justin Taylor original.” He pointed to where he was looking a bit above him.

“Surely you are mistaken,” Lindsay said as she moved to where Michael was standing.

She couldn’t help but be in awe and envy at the use of color in the painting. It was obviously done with great passion, denoted by the use of  reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded one of a moving fire, spreading to and fro without thought or care of anything in its path. The painting seemed almost out of place within the parlor which had a tasteful purple and lavender decor. Yet, the eye was constantly drawn to the painting over the fireplace, and immediately her mind went to Brian.

Presence. That’s what Brian had that made him unforgettable, even to people he had yet to meet. The way he owned the room when he entered it, no matter the occasion. The way he commanded the attention of everyone. The way he moved, like a panther poised to strike his prey at any given time. The way he never seemed to be still, even when sitting in a setting requiring him to be. It’s what Lindsay craved, and she would have… one way or the other.

The subtle clearing of a throat behind them, interrupted her musings. “Mr. Foxx still isn’t receiving visitors, but he did ask me to give you a message for him. He said that upon his expiration, you will receive a packet, detailing all you need to know. He said that Ron Peterson advised him that you would make an appearance and asked that he wait…”

“Wait? Wait for what exactly?” Lindsay asked.

“He asked that you not be told about the circumstances surrounding your birth and all the subsequent information until Mr. Foxx went on to meet his maker.”

“Does that mean that Ron Peterson is going to continue to acknowledge you as his daughter, Lindsay?”

“I don’t know, Michael,” she answered before turning back to the butler. “Thank you very much for telling me this. Can you please let him know that I will do as he asked. I’m very sorry that we didn’t have a chance to get to know each other in this life.”

“I will pass along your message, Ma’am.”

Lindsay nodded, but Michael still remembered that he had a job to do, per Lindsay’s express instructions. “By the way, do you know the artist of this painting?”

“Yes, Sir. Mr. Taylor and Mr. Foxx have visited many times over the years. He was a friend of young Justin’s grandfathers before they passed.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

“Mr. Foxx was one of their business advisors a long time ago.”

“Does that mean he would know the Hobbs family, too?”

“Yes, it would, although I’m not sure to what extent. Our community is very interconnected. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to my employer.”

“Sure, but one more thing. Do you know where I can find Christopher Hobbs? There’s a matter of grave importance I would like to discuss with him?”

“I haven’t seen Christopher for many years, although he does come back once in awhile. He lives and works in Amsterdam,” the butler said as he left the parlor to usher Michael and Lindsay to the front door.

“As in the Netherlands?” Lindsay gasped.

“Yes,” the butler answered them shortly.

“Do you have an address for him? I mean, my mother told me that he’s also my cousin. I have a son, and I’m trying to gather all of the information about our family so that I can teach it to him,” Lindsay said, once again turning on the little girl lost look and voice.

Michael just stared at her for a moment and then shook his head, before addressing the butler. “If you do, it would really help Lindsay out. I mean, Gus should know his family, right?”

“Why not ask your mother for the information, then?”

“My mother would only tell me that they don’t speak about Christopher very often, but not why. Perhaps you know something that she doesn’t?” Lindsay wheedles.

“Not really,” the butler answered again. “In fact, none of us- as in the house staff- really do. As your mother told you, he’s not talked about much within this circle, except to say that he’s relocated. Now I really must get back to my duties. Good day!”

As Lindsay and Michael headed back down the stairs the way the came, Michael muttered, “Well that seemed like a complete waste of time.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Michael. After all, my true father is leaving me something of an inheritance.”

“Good for you! But what does that have to do with us getting rid of that fucking blond kid? With Hobbs in Amsterdam- wherever the fuck that is- there’s no way we can get to him.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. But first, we have to go back to my place so that I can prepare for dinner.”

“Prepare? What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were already prepared.”

“Oh God, Michael. Teaching you proper etiquette is bound to be the bane of my existence! I cannot go to dinner at my parents house in the same suit that I went visiting another home in. It just simply isn’t done. Besides that, Mr. Foxx is ill, and we don’t know with what. It would be the height of egregiousness and in poor taste to go to my parents in a suit that may carry his germs.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” Michael shook his head, thinking there were too many fucking and fucked up rules to deal with when dealing with Lindsay and her people. “So what’s our next move?” he asks, as they get back into the cab.

After Lindsay gives the taxi driver instructions to get back to the house she shared with Melanie, she turns to Michael. “I will try to find out what I can tonight while I’m at my parents’ house. In the meantime, you go to Babylon and see what you hear. With both Brian and Justin out of town together, there is bound to be a lot of speculations and innuendos floating about. Then we’ll meet tomorrow morning for breakfast at Birch Street Cafe. No way do I want to have this conversation anywhere that your mother can hear.”

Michael nods. “I agree. Besides, she’s totally pissed at me anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if she put an exlax in my coffee.”

“That was a visual I just didn’t need, Michael,” Lindsay mutters, tuning out whatever other idiotic thought was about to leave his mouth unfiltered.

Soon, I will find a way to be rid of you too, Michael. That I promise!

BACK AT THE FOXX RESIDENCE

“Is it done?” Ron Peterson asks over the phone.

“Yes, Sir, it is. Mr. Foxx also thanks you for the warning. She and her pet chihuahua showed up unannounced just as you said she would,” Giles, the butler said.

“She is her mother’s daughter after all. Although I will miss Marcus to an extent, I can’t wait to see Lindsay’s face when she finds out about her inheritance and that you and Anthony stand to get it all. She’s as avaricious as Nancy. In the meantime, I need to call Brian Kinney.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because once again, she has used Gus in her schemes. He and Melanie should have some legal recourse regarding that.”

“True, but also alert Justin Taylor that the man with her was asking about him AND Christopher Hobbs. That can’t be good.”

“Let me assure you that it isn’t. There are only a few of us that actually know where he is; we need to keep it that way… for all our sakes.”

“Indeed, Mr. Peterson. I did tell them that he was in Amsterdam, but NOT where. That will probably keep them busy for awhile yet.”

“Let’s hope so, Giles. Lindsay is like a dog with a bone, especially when it comes to getting what she wants. And she wants Brian Kinney. Michael Novotny wants him too, but he would never work as hard to get him. Lindsay, on the other hand, has no threshold or conscience. She will literally and figuratively do anything.”

“There might be another way to thwart her, Sir.”

“Well, Giles, let’s hear it…”