Thanks for the words of support from my readers. You are the kick in the butt that keeps this story moving. I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Thank you for your patience during the protracted updating period. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 4
Dim sunlight filtered in through the half-closed drapes, capturing the lazy dance of dust motes in the air of the large office. Dark, formal furniture with gently worn Persian rugs covering worn wooden floors gave the impression of a long-established legal office of some distinguished law practice instead of the home office of a confectioner.
Cornelius Prodnose had never been one for the more flamboyant showmanship of his rival Willy Wonka. He looked with mild distaste at the loud colors and strange quirks that went with the wildly popular Chocolatier. His own stately business was marketed toward the more discerning palate of chocolate-lovers in the world – those who could appreciate quality over quantity.
However, that didn't mean that any and all developments that happen to come his way from the loud braggart were to be ignored though. The last creation of Wonka's that had fallen into his hands was still listed as one of his top sellers thanks to the flavor development of the "never-melting ice cream".
Prodnose nudged the square-framed reading glasses further up his nose and re-read the hand-written note from his informant inside the factory of his competitor. His square-fingered hands with the rough-tips of one who enjoyed working with his hands carefully examined the paper and looked for minute clues to the real situation inside the factory.
Apparently there was a small contingent of the native workers that Wonka had mysteriously imported that were not happy with their arrangements. They were pressing for more exposure outside the factory and something besides menial labor as a profession.
Squinting, he examined the handwriting. It was with a practiced hand, easy in reading and writing – none of the tense, cramped lettering of the barely literate. His initial impression held as he reread the phrasing – quite eloquent and educated. The paper was a light lilac tinge and a quick sniff and taste of one corner of the page revealed it to be one of Wonka's patented eatable paper in grape.
Prodnose huffed in mild surprise and pleasure. This looked like a promising lead into the inner workings of Wonka's mysterious factory – he'd have to cultivate this malcontent and see what could be done to spread that unease among the other members of the tribe.
He carefully placed the note and its envelope in a lockbox in the lower drawer of his desk and secured it prior to returning his attention back to the other papers on his desk.
Running a business was not a frivolous business, despite whatever his competitor thought. Wonka had built his empire over the course of a few years and Prodnose knew that it would fade just as quickly.
Prodnose was proud of his confectionery heritage and took his calling seriously. Prodnose Confections had been in business for almost a hundred years, passed from father to firstborn son without break for just as long. His own son was already working in the R & D department after a internship in the finance division in preparation of one day taking the reins of the company. He would do anything to ensure his legacy would pass down and if that meant doing seedy business to eliminate Wonka to make things easier, so be it.
******
"So, Mum is back up to her old tricks again," stated Reggie as he slid onto the bar stool next to Veronica at the counter of his kitchen.
Rather than restating the obvious she grunted and took a sip of coffee from the big orange mug in front of her.
Reggie nodded, "Yeah, that's what I thought. I got one yesterday too – although I had to restrain Spencer from immediately replying."
She snorted. Anything Spencer would contribute to the situation would not make things any easier. Her brother's spouse was well-known for his scathing opinion of their parents.
"Couldn't you imagine Mum's face reading anything Spence sends as a reply?" she asked slyly, shooting a side-long glance at him.
Reggie could all too well. He imagined their ever-so-proper mother in her prim designer slacks and button-down shirt with the ever present string of pearls at her throat with lipsticked mouth gaping open in aghast horror at the sweetly poisonous words carved into the paper before her.
"Might be worth it at that," he mused, nibbling on one of the cookies he'd set out before her.
He'd been surprised at Veronica's visit that afternoon. She'd explained that she'd been in the neighborhood after delivering one of her commissioned pieces and wanted to stop by and say hello.
"Okay – since I am not one for avoiding the proverbial pachyderm in the room, what is so different this time around? I mean we've gotten letters before, why are you sitting over here brooding over it this time?" Reggie asked, running his hands through his thick brown hair.
Veronica cradled the hot cup in her hands, savoring the warmth as it chased the chill that crept up her arms as she contemplated his question.
"I think it has a lot to do with where I am today," she said slowly, sorting through her thoughts and feelings on the matter, "I mean it was one thing, going along in my own little oblivious world trying to scrape by on my own. Now, here I am – a year older and wiser. Over the past year met Willy, become a multi-millionaire, fallen in love, gotten kidnapped and nearly killed by a psychopath – it's those kind of things that make you realize that life is too short for grudges. It's also made me reexamine how things got left with Mum and Dad and makes me wonder if just cutting them off was the right thing."
Reggie just stared at her for a moment, "Thank you for that lovely after-school special moment on what it means to be a mature adult. However, may I point out that these are the same people who told you to basically "get over" what Mucus…I mean Marcus had done to you?"
Flinching, Veronica nodded, "They're not perfect – no one is. That particular example was a doozy. But it was also more than a couple of years ago and we've both grown since then. I'm not saying we should open our hearts and minds, I'm just saying let's make damn sure our initial impressions were correct before writing them off entirely."
Picking up his own empty mug, he rinsed it out before placing it in the dishwasher, "I have to admit, there were moments – far and few between mind you – where I'd wondered the same thing. We were both pretty young the last time we had contact with them and I wonder how much was them and how much was us?"
"So are we basically thinking the same thing? To give them a last chance once and for all?" Veronica asked, feeling herself hold her breath in anticipation.
Reggie grimaced but nodded, "Rather than jump into this whole thing blindfolded, let's try something first.
He set the phone on the breakfast bar between them and met her eyes challengingly.
"I'll make the call and put it on speakerphone. There's no way in hell I'm wasting a weekend to go up and talk to them if we can't manage civility during a simple phone call." He offered, hitting the hands free button.
The droning tone echoed emptily through the room. Veronica's face was creased in doubt.
As the tone skipped into the annoying bleat of a phone left off the hook for too long, she reached out and hit the button again, hanging up.
"I…I can't. Not yet anyway. I need to figure out what to say first," she said.
Nodding, Reggie returned the phone to its resting place, "Right. Just keep that thought in mind when you threaten to go all reasonable again."
"Sorry Reggie. It just got to me after Willy found the letter this morning and asked me about it. I was working and it suddenly struck me that just ignoring them had become more of a habit than any real desire to do so.
Their conversation was interrupted by the front door opening and Spencer staggered in. His face was stressed and worried. There were dark circles under his eyes and his strong jaw was peppered with stubble from where he missed shaving. When he saw that he wasn't alone a genial mask fell over his features.
"Good evening all, " Spencer said lightly as he came in with an armful of groceries. "Ronnie – lovely to see you again out of the batcave."
"Did you get me the parmesan cheese?" Reggie asked, digging through the bags and putting things away with quick efficient movements - seemingly ignorant of his lover's slightly harried appearance.
Must have been just a restless night, she thought. Veronica was silent, enjoying watching how the two interacted with each other.
"Yes, it's in the bag isn't it?" Spencer said irritated.
Reggie came up holding a green canister with a look of profound disgust on his face, "What is this?"
"The cheese?" Spencer asked "See, there are these clever little things called letters and you line them up and sound them out and they make what we call 'words'. That particular canister has a special one that says 'parmesan' on it as well."
Reggie gave Spencer a look that was eerily similar to the one her mother had used on him when he'd announced that he was gay. That what was being said was so profoundly stupid that the listener could not have possibly heard what had just been said.
"Kraft Parmesan cheese?"
Spencer looked tired and irritated and there was a level of warming in his voice that didn't get used too often, "Very good. Now if we can move beyond stating the obvious and get to pulling some dinner together, I'd be grateful."
"What happened to stopping by the deli to grab a chunk of genuine Italian Parmesan from the Emile-Romania region to make my famous lasagna?" Reggie asked annoyed, overlooking the warning from his partner.
Spencer took a deep breath, and even Veronica could see him biting back the words he wanted to say. Instead, he explained, "The line at the deli was at least an hour long. I've had a very long day and grabbed the nearest substitute."
She gave Reggie a warning look to leave the poor man alone, which he just as naturally ignored.
"I can't cook with this! This stuff is recycled sawdust. It taste like crap and I refuse to cook crap," Reggie snapped.
Wincing, Veronica leaned back and started to work her way as unobtrusively as possible out of the line of fire.
"Fine. Don't cook then. I wouldn't want to you to put yourself out to actually contribute anything after all," Spencer snarled, his thin tether to his temper snapping. "Heaven and saints forfend that you lower yourself to the domestic task of actually cooking for the one you love. After all, you're just so bloody busy with your buggering theater schedule of rehearsals to spend more than five minutes in my company. "
There was a true note of bitterness in his voice that clued Veronica that things were not all peaches and cream between the lovers.
"Despite that everyone else on your crew gets the time off to actually go home and eat a meal once in a while, you're too bloody busy to even bother to change your clothes." Spencer ranted, waving his arms in the air.
"It's two weeks before opening and the star had to be replaced due to pregnancy. What the hell do you expect me to do? The producers are expecting me to train her replacement in time for opening," Reggie shouted back, his face flushed an ugly red.
"Too busy to let me know what's going on? Just expecting your home cleaned, your meals delivered," Spencer snarled his face flushing. "...your clothes washed?"
"What the hell is your problem? I'm busy with work, what do you expect?" Reggie said, frustrated with this sudden verbal attack.
"I expect a bit of fidelity you stupid bastard," Spencer yelled, tears gleaming in his eyes.
Something in Veronica went cold and still at Spencer's words.
Reggie sneered, "What are you talking about?"
"I found his letter!" Spencer cried, tears running from his eyes and down his cheeks. Veronica felt like she'd been punched in the chest and could only stare in disbelief at her brother as the blood drained from his face.
Oh god, not this.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Reggie said coldly, trying to rally his defense.
"Since I'm the one doing laundry – you might as well have tossed it in my face," Spencer sobbed. "I found the letter in your pocket. I could smell the cologne on your shirt. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Reggie looked confused for a moment and then as if a dawning light illuminated him, he relaxed and looked relieved, "Spence…" he tried to reach out for the man, but Spencer was having nothing of it.
"Don't touch me. Don't … just don't," he hissed, glaring at Reggie.
"It's not what you think…"
"I'm not an idiot, Reginald. Don't you dare speak to me in such a condescending manner."
Reggie had the gall to actually looked amused at his partner's pain.
Veronica felt lost as she watched the anguish on Spencer's face. Suddenly furious with her brother for being so thick she growled, "You'd better explain yourself Reginald Evelyn Carmichel."
Spencer looked momentarily startled that she was there, he shot her an embarrassed look, "Sorry Ronnie, I didn't mean to lose it like this with you here…"1
She crossed and embraced the broken man, glaring at her brother all the while. "You never mind that right now Spence – Reggie's got a story to tell."
Seeing that he was outnumbered and on the hot seat, Reggie sighed, "Fine! Spence – you are right. I have been spending far too much time at work. The production isn't going well and it's on the verge of going under. Hiring the replacement at the last possible moment and getting her ready is the last hope."
"And what does this have to do with a letter and the cologne?" she asked, feeling the tremor of emotion running through the man in her arms.
"I'm getting to that," Reggie snapped, running his hands through his hair and looking antagonized.
"Despite the rumors going around about Brittany being a no-talent hack, she's actually got some good chops for dancing. She's been working hard and the letter is from her – thanking me for taking the time to ensure she doesn't make a complete ass of herself. As for the 'see you tonight, handsome' that's referring to the rehearsal in about three hours time. You can even come with me if you'd like to see that I'm on the up-and-up."
"The cologne…now that's a bit harder to explain and just slightly incriminating for me," he muttered, looking both angry and embarrassed now.
"Brittany's male partner for one particular number had been having problems….serious problems. I had to completely change his choreography around and he hasn't quite got it. Frankly, I had my suspicions about the source of his problems since he didn't seem to have any problems on any other piece…anyway." Reggie shrugged. "I had to resort to dancing Brittany's part while she was off in some legal meeting to get him to understand what I was trying to get him to do. Things got a little…heated."
"Heated?" Spencer asked in a small voice, his eyes tragic and imaging the worst.
"Yeah – like me made a move on me and I had to resort to drastic measures to get him to stop," Reggie wasn't meeting anyone's eyes now and was studying the contents on the cupboard with curious intent.
"What happened?" Veronica asked.
"I had to punch him in the gut. He complained and there was this whole big thing…luckily, the director knew me and vouched that I wasn't the type to put moves on any man who wasn't you Spence and he got fired. So that leaves me even more in a lurch since I'm back to training yet another dancer and putting me even further behind at work….it's just this whole fiasco. I'm sorry Spencer. I really am."
"So – you weren't …" Spencer whispered, looking down at the floor.
"No – never, my darling. I could never do that to you. I'd like you to come to rehearsal with me tonight just so you can double check my story about what happened if you like," Reggie said, reaching for Spencer's hand to draw him out of Veronica's arms and into his own. "I love you and only you. You're my life."
Satisfied that the crisis had passed, she smiled at the two men, "I'll leave you two to kiss and make up."
She kissed them both on the cheek and collected her coat and bag and quickly left the apartment.
Reggie just adsorbed the feeling of having the man he loved held close in his arms and felt the stress of the past few weeks start to drain away. Spencer kissed him tenderly and they smiled gently at each other.
"Misunderstanding aside, I do appreciate everything you do for me," Reggie murmured. "I don't ever want to take you for granted."
"Me either – I love you and you're too important to me to lose over a simple problem in communication," Spencer said, yielding to Reggie's arms.
"Once this whole thing blows over – let's get out of here for a few days. A little break for you and me," Reggie breathed even as his thoughts took a more carnal turn. "Someplace warm where clothing is optional."
"I like that idea," Spencer said. "And I will join you for rehearsal, if nothing else but to keep lustful chorus dancer's hands off your bum."
Whatever reply Reggie made was lost as Spencer closed in to make up for lost time.
Lasagna and Parmesan cheese were never mentioned.
