Diamond Dogs

Chapter Seven: Senility, the New Evil


"May I come in?" was the first coherent words Al heard in five days.

Lianne Conte was standing at her doorway with an unreadable expression. Al nodded and sat up on her bed, conscious of her sprawled position. She watched as Lianne took in the state of her room in one sweeping glance before the woman stepped inside her bedroom and arranged herself elegantly in Al's old swivel chair. Lianne twisted the silver bracelet on her left wrist to and fro while Al shifted uncomfortably on her bed. Al considered apologizing for the state of mess her room was in, but banished the thought quickly. She had no need to say sorry for anything.

Lianne finally brought her eyes up to observe Al. "You know why I'm here."

"To try and explain what this whole… nightmare… is all about?" Al asked somewhat viciously. "I'm not an idiot. Nothing you or anyone else will say will make me accept this."

"I'd be a fool if I ever wanted you to accept this straight away, Alanna. I'm also a part of this arrangement. Do you think it was easy for me to accept this?" Lianne's eyes were digging into her and Al looked away. "Jonathan is my son. And I'm not that inconsiderate or cruel to think that this wouldn't hurt you, or anger you."

Then why did you let this happen? Al thought, unimpressed. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I just don't buy this whole empathy thing. I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me that this is some big joke meant to punish me or something." For what, though, was the question.

Lianne's lips compressed into a thin line. Al wasn't too surprised. It was the kind of reaction she got out of most adults. "I can't say that, I'm sorry. But I can try to make you understand."

"What's to understand?" Al asked with a laugh. She could feel her hands shaking despite her bravado so she shoved her hands under her thighs. "I'm being forced to marry your son because of an old pact between his grandfather and mine. Sounds pretty archaic and useless to me. Not to mention completely unfair. Whatever happened to respecting the individual and free choice?"

"Honour and loyalty is very important in the Conte family," Lianne explained. Al looked at the older woman in amazement. Didn't she hear a thing of what Al had just said? "When your grandfather saved Jasson's life in the war, and sacrificed his arms and legs in the process… Jasson only wanted to repay him. Your grandfather had worked hard to make a living for his family; but no matter what he did, it was never good enough to get them out of the poverty that had attacked many families since the Depression. Losing his limbs shattered any further hopes for what your grandfather could accomplish for the rest of his life. It also meant that his family would suffer without him there to make a living."

Al had heard the edited and shortened version of this story nights ago at the Pine Garden Restaurant. But something like pity unfurled in her stomach after hearing the full details. She had never known her grandfather for he had died years before she was even born. So it was strange to know that the Contes had been intertwined with her family beyond just Thom's acquaintanceship with Jon Conte. But it didn't explain why she was involved in any of this. "But why am I being-I mean-marrying into your family? Obviously, this has something to do with the repayment thing, but why me?" How pathetic did I just sound? Al cringed, annoyed that she couldn't make her voice as strong and cold as she wanted. This whole engagement business was messing with her system.

"Ah. We didn't explain this properly on Tuesday evening, did we?" Lianne mused, before she leaned back further into the squeaky swivel chair and recrossed her ankles. The gesture made Al wary. This wasn't a time to get comfortable. The older woman obviously thought this was some heroic story that would magically cause Al to fall over in inspired understanding. "Jasson arranged for his eldest son—Roald—to be promised in marriage to your Aunt Catherine, the sole daughter of the Trebond line. This would effectively bring the two families closer, but also allow your grandfather to finally provide his family with a secure future. The Contes were—and are, as you know—one of the wealthiest and most prestigious lineages in the country. Jasson made it his life's promise to continue honouring your grandfather by doing this."

Her grandfather must have been desperate to consent and willingly want to give his daughter away to someone she barely knew.

The gears in Al's head started moving and she unconsciously started biting her fingernails. "But Aunt Catherine died in that accident when she was still a teenager. And grandpa couldn't have any more kids. Oh." Al's stomach started to feel queasy, and an ungrateful part of her cursed her Aunt Catherine for dying and leaving Al to carry the burden. No, not burden, but repayment. Because Jasson had only passed away two years earlier; and had lived long enough to reinforce his warped, severe (though slightly awe-inspiring) sense of gratitude to her dead grandfather. "This is freakin' out of this world."

Lianne gave Al a stern look but Al wasn't fazed by it. She couldn't help it if her mouth ran away from her sometimes.

But if Aunt Catherine had lived… then Roald wouldn't have married Lianne, and there would be no Jon Conte. While it had its advantages, Al was assaulted by a wave of guilt. She couldn't imagine a world without any of the Contes. She wasn't that much of a bad person for wishing anyone dead.

"But why is Principal Conte seeing this arrangement through? No offense, but Mr Conte is already gone. And surely Principal Conte knows that I don't fit into the image of being anyone's wife, " Al said the word with an unmistakable degree of distaste, "let alone Jonathan's wife. Isn't it a commandment, or at least a law, that a Conte heir must marry a Naxen or Eldorne or Wilima?" Al acknowledged briefly that those were the only three families with marriageable daughters that Al knew of.

Lianne looked puzzled for a few seconds. Then her lips quirked—á la Jon Conte style—and she chuckled good-naturedly. Al jerked back in surprise. Genuine brightness and pleasantry always rattled her. She wasn't built to withstand smiles and giggles and all that business, dammit! Give her a smirk or an arrogant challenge and Al would be in her element.

Then Lianne seemed to remember the question, and her face dropped into a scowl. "Oh Jasson was loyal. But he was also senile in his last years. Without us knowing, he changed the provisions in his will. As the main beneficiary, Jonathan should receive his grandfather's business as well as a significant portion of his wealth after his twenty-first birthday. Roald and Jonathan had already made plans to split the company's operations between Jon and his cousin, Roger, who is a brilliant and successful young man in his own right. But Jasson's changes dictated that Jonathan would not receive any of this, until a marriage occurred between you and Jon. Currently, Conte Corp is being run in the hands of a board of directors that have greatly different views as to the direction and purpose of the company. They also play a part in determining just how long and well this marriage will last."

"That's crazy," Al whispered. She stretched out on her bed to think this new information through, all the while forgetting that she should have been sitting straight and proper. "But I can't marry him. I don't even like him! We're barely even friends. If I… marry Jon Conte, then I won't be able to do anything. I wasn't even planning on getting married." At least, not until she was forty or something. A new thought popped into her mind and she looked imploringly at Principal Conte's wife. "But we can divorce, can't we? I only have to stay married to him for an hour or a day or something." Divorce. Jesus, it was so fucking weird to say that word. She was only seventeen!

"Not quite," Lianne said.

Al's stomach squeezed so hard she thought that her liver and her pancreas might have traded places. "I have to stay married to him forever?"

"No," Lianne sighed, "but you will have to stay married for a substantial amount of time. We're still negotiating with lawyers as to how long 'substantial' implies. In the meantime; we can only hope that the two of you can establish a solid friendship until we can find a way around the provisions of the will."

The red-head felt a small ball on tension ease at the assurance that someone was doing something to fix this disaster.

"Do you understand now?"

Al shrugged. "A little. But it doesn't help the fact that I'm the victim in all this."

Lianne Conte remained silent. Al turned her head to gaze out her window again. She was a victim. This forced marriage was only beneficial to the Contes. What was she to receive at the end of all this? A good friend for a husband?

Al grinned bitterly. Someone might as well throw her in a jail cell.


Al remained locked up in her room until Bug started scratching at the door. Checking her digital clock, she deemed it a safe enough time to go downstairs without having to be in the company of her family. She picked up Bug and made her way to the kitchen quietly. All the lights were turned off save for the one in the kitchen, where a bowl of spaghetti waited.

She crossed to the cupboards first and took the last can of tuna. She'd have to remember to go and write a note to her brother to buy some more for Bug. She settled her pet on the table before pouring his food onto his blue bowl. Grabbing a plate for herself, she grabbed some dinner and heated it in the microwave. As she waited, she got a bottle of water from the fridge and some crackers from the pantry.

Her brother was in his room, probably asleep already after spending the day at George's house. She had seen him get out of the Eclipse earlier from her bedroom window with a backpack. Getting her spaghetti, she tried not to think about what awaited her the next morning. Mrs Conte had it made it clear that her husband expected her to be at school the next day. He had allowed her to skip school since Wednesday, most likely thinking that a couple days reprieve was enough.

It wasn't.

Al had received more text messages on her cell in the past week than she ever remembered. She had read maybe ten of them before giving up, and soon after, her battery had died and she hadn't bothered to recharge it. She had forty emails waiting in her inbox from people she went to school with, but she hadn't read any of them either.

The only thing she had read was the sole newspaper article that announced the engagement. She could remember the sickly pallor of Thom's face when he had banged on her bedroom door a few days after she came back from staying at Alex's house after she left the Pine Garden in Tusaine. He looked so shocked, whispering "Is this true?" over and over, that Al was obligated to punch him in the arm to get him out of his stupor (and out of her room). They had taken to leaving notes for each other on the fridge and under the slits of their bedroom doors to communicate.

Thom had tried in vain for a couple of hours to get her to come out of her room and talk to him once the Champion came out the day before. But he gave up and Al heard how her twin took out his frustration on their father instead. Not surprisingly, Alan Trebond hadn't spoken a word to Al after his impressive tirade the day she returned home after a short absence. He told Thom repeatedly that it was none of his business, but Al begged to differ. Thom had every right to know.

And so the Trebond house was in a current state of stalemate but for completely opposite reasons. Alan chose not to speak to either of his children except when barking orders. Al locked herself in her room and avoided any contact with anyone. Thom, while communicating with his sister, was absent during the day to stay at their cousin's place because both his fellow housemates weren't speaking. It was therefore unexpected that Lianne Conte had been allowed passage into Al's room. But this could have also been because the Lady Conte was a powerful woman whom also held several answers that Al needed.

Bug's loud mewling broke Al from her reverie. "What is it, boy?"

The feline poked out his small tongue and licked Al's left arm. She forked in some noodles then hopped off her stool to grab the milk carton for Bug. Before she had even finished pouring, her companion immediately darted forward and lapped at his drink. Stroking his fur, Bug burped on cue and caused a ripple of bubbles to emerge on the milk's surface.

"When did everything get so crazy, hm?"

Meooww.

"I know. If my real self could just wake up from this long, stupid dream."

Bug yawned and stretched his small jaw. He shook his head from side to side before settling his bright eyes on Al as she was about done with her meal. "Go on, then. I'll be there in a minute."

Taking his mistress' words to heart, the kitten turned tail and disappeared upstairs like a black blur.

After washing her plate and fork, Al turned off the kitchen light and went upstairs. She treaded carefully to avoid making any creaking noises and froze when the light in Thom's room flickered out from the edges of his wooden door. He must have been waiting for her to finish eating and go to bed. Padding back into her room, she grabbed a pair of pyjamas and went into the bathroom. She went through the motions: brushing her teeth, changing into the flannel boxers and old faded tank top, washing her face, then slapping her cheeks in an attempt to wake her real self up.

Staring into the vanity mirror, she stuck her tongue out and spoke to her reflection. "Either real life turned into a nightmare or the nightmare became real life." Slap, slap. "I'm a lion. I'm a freakin' tiger. I'm a shark, grrr! I'll conquer tomorrow. Rrrr!"

Taking a deep breath, she twirled around and flipped off the light on her way out. Boy, am I going mental or what?


"This doesn't make things any easier," Al informed her cohort.

Beside her, Jon Conte shrugged and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for the light to go green. "Can you really see yourself going to school today?"

"I would have figured out my own way to skip. You needn't have come and picked me up."

"We've got the excuse of skipping together, Al."

Al's lip curled. She supposed that she should get used to him calling her so familiarly. But her name coming from his lips sounded so foreign. "Remind me again what I'm gaining from following you?"

"I promised to keep my fan club—as you dubbed it—away from you," he said, amused.

"Hmph," Al stretched her legs in the tiny Porsche. "So where have you been all week? Thom said that you disappeared for a while. Couldn't handle the news, could you?"

"And you did?" Jon Conte sent her a haughty look. "You're the last person I'd ever even contemplate being a candidate."

Al grunted. "You and me both." That was about as much as the two of them were willing to discuss. Al didn't mind ignoring addressing their current situation. It made it a whole lot easier to cope with reality.

As Jon Conte manoeuvred the sports car into the freeway, she saw his Blackberry sitting unattended in the cup holder. She picked it up without asking for permission and admired the expensive cell in her hands. "So where are we going at seven-thirty in the morning?"

Half an hour earlier, she had woken to the sound of rocks being thrown at her bedroom window. Furious at being disturbed, she had dashed to the window and was about to give the culprit a piece of her mind, only to find the God standing below her in the front driveway. He had nothing as a present except for a promise to play hooky. And here she was. Al wasn't hesitant to admit that it gave her the perfect opportunity to avoid returning back to school and facing the chaos that was in store for her (and Jon Conte) all day.

Monday mornings were not cool.

"I feel like a Happy Meal," he explained.

"We're going all the way out of the city for McDonalds?"

He nodded at her. "Unless you have a sudden desire to be front page news, then yes, I think it's a rather obvious objective."

Al crossed her arms and sunk into the passenger seat. Damn Conte.


0410296758.

Al stared at the digits neatly written on the napkin in her hand. One of the many things she hadn't dreamed of ever being privy to was Jon Conte's cell phone number. But there it was, burning a patch into her palm as she sat on a wooden bench in a random park in the neighbouring city of Tyra. Her companion was sprawled on his back on the table that her spine was leaning against.

"Don't read too much into it," Jon Conte advised from behind. "Or else that frown on your face will become permanent. It just seems logical that as my," a pause, then, "fiancée—you should have my number anyway. Plus, if any of us needs anything…"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Yeah, I get it."

A moment's silence. "We should head back. It'll take us an hour."

"Well, it should have given your father enough time to cool down," Al murmured.

Was that a smile on Jon Conte's face? "And enough time for the gossip mills to combust from over-excitement and speculation."

"Ugh."

"How's Bug?"

Al wrestled with the seatbelt before it complied. "He's alright. Come to think of it, I need to get him food."

Before he left the parking spot, Jon Conte reached behind her seat and pulled out a brown paper bag. He dumped it in Al's lap as he reversed. "There. That's for him."

Inside the bag were several cans of tuna, other snacks and a red rubber ball.

"Er, thanks," Al conveyed. "It, uh, definitely solves the problem."

When no response was made, Al peered out the window and observed the strange landmarks. She hardly went out of town except for the occasional visit to Tusaine during sporting comps or to shop for something that wasn't available in Corus. Tyra was even more unfamiliar, as it was all high-rise apartments and parks every two blocks. Unlike Corus, which was heavily populated, and a mixture of both outdated and modern, Tyra was fairly new and less crowded. Perhaps it was due to the city's small size, but Al found herself thinking that at least Corus had the kind of people who looked friendly.

Tyrans were ever so aloof, and looked like they would rather enjoy the company of their pet Chihuahua than their neighbours and friends.

Switching her concentration back on the route home, Al leaned her head back on the headrest as they once again joined the freeway. It was three in the afternoon, and though school was out, peak hour would begin soon. Even if they were travelling 110k, Al didn't fail to miss the admiring gazes from drivers and passengers in other cars as Jon Conte's sleek Porsche drove past.

A small part of her was relieved that her companion wasn't pushing the speedometer to 120 like Thom, Alex and George were prone to do. But the horrible taste in music seemed to make up for it. Al wasn't a big fan of R'n'B, but she kept her mouth firmly shut when she otherwise wouldn't have. Even though they were engaged, Jon Conte was still only an acquaintance that she had started talking to a few weeks ago but had also kissed her in a dark linen closet while inebriated.

Al wouldn't take liberties with anything while they spent time together until the air was completely cleared between them. After all, if she wanted to get through the next few months sane, then she would have to put some effort into promoting their acquaintanceship to friendship material.

"You do realize we have to go back tomorrow, don't you?" she commented. Unlike her, Jon Conte was probably still on a high from having skipped class. His clean record was practically legend.

"I'm surprised you said that," he replied while scratching his jaw. The action inadvertently brought Al's eyes to the slight stubble that littered his normally clean-shaven face. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who was shaken by the bombshell dropped on their heads last Tuesday.

"I guess you're right." He was a patient person. Far more than she was, despite the fact that he could be as cold as an ice cube if he wanted. "I was just worried. This being the first time you ditched class officially." The three days reprieve they had been granted last week from his father didn't count of course.

"You think I'm some sort of perfect student?" He sounded highly amused.

Al didn't appreciate it. "Aren't you?"

"Hm, I keep forgetting you weren't there during freshman year." Jon Conte sent a thoughtful smirk her way. "I skipped a period or two at least once every fortnight. Gary and I would make sure to skip the whole day at least once a month in favour of better things like trying to pick up girls at the beach, or going skating in Tusaine. We even shoplifted twice just to avoid math."

Al reigned in her surprise. Jon Conte: truant extraordinaire? Who would have thought. "I didn't know that."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."


Author's Note: I wasn't very happy with this chapter, but it had to be written. Sorry for the long wait! Once again; thank you so much for all your reviews! They always make my day :)