Chapter 28- Gossip
From the moment Richard followed Robert through the hatch his private life became public information in Rapture. He didn't know it at the time, at the time all he knew was bloodlust, but his sort-of secret affair with Lupe was now primed to be the headline of the day. Not that he particularly cared, he had much more tangible things to worry about.
After he had been pulled off Robert the casino floor had exploded into activity- people running for security agents, for a medic, for ice, for something. In the middle of it all had been Annette, sobbing and hyperventilating over what Richard believed was Robert's corpse. Richard had observed the 'body' with cool acceptance; while he hadn't exactly meant to kill him, he hadn't tried hard not to either. His lack of regret came as a surprise. He hadn't killed anyone in the war but he had always presumed he'd feel bad about it, even if they were a German.
A medical response team arrived before the security agents did, and seeing the red crosses on their uniforms Richard suddenly remembered why he had beaten the tar out of Robert in the first place. He informed everyone within earshot that Robert didn't deserve help, that someone else did, his girlfriend, she was in room 318, and she was unconscious and drugged by Robert, and by God if someone didn't go check on her right that second he'd turn what was left of Robert into a pulp by dropping a slot machine on him.
Richard must have looked quite intimidating – he was splattered in blood and the ADAM had given his muscles shape and definition that they hadn't had before. His nearly nude body made it appear that he was very strong and could probably make good on any over-the-top threats that made. A medic and a security officer sprinted to the elevators and someone practically shoved a cigarette into Richard's hand in an attempt to calm him.
"You're a killer," Annette accused him in a strangled, painful cry. "A cold-blooded killer!"
Richard had laughed at this comment. "Lady, I don't think you know what 'cold-blooded' means." He inhaled the lit cigarette that had been thrust at him
The two medics that had stayed behind were attending to Robert. "He's not dead," one told Annette after checking his vitals. "He's in a bad way though, we need to transport him immediately."
Richard supposed that he should be relieved, but no burden was lifted from his shoulders. He tossed his cigarette butt onto the stretcher with Robert as they took him and the still bawling Annette away. "Don't get too comfortable in your hospital bed, we've got a score to settle," he called after the medics as they carried him away.
It was only when one of the medics confirmed that yes, they found Lupe and she was going to be transported to a clinic as well (and also brought him his pants and shirt) that Richard consented to leave with the security agents. He knew damn well that he shouldn't open his mouth about anything, but his righteous indignation at Robert's actions sucked all of the reason out of his mind. Over and over again he told the security agents what had happened and why he had been so violent.
They placed him in a cell at the station. His cell was considerably more comfortable than the one that Lupe had been in, with such luxuries as a sink, a narrow, thin cot, and no leaks. It was designed for a slightly longer stay. He was on a 24-hour mandatory hold, which was the policy for any violent assault, regardless of the reason. Richard belatedly demanded his lawyer, who was the only visitor he was allowed to have. It was only once they had locked him in and told him they'd contact his lawyer that Richard's adrenaline plummeted.
He sat down on the cot and put his head in his hands. The gently flickering light of the bare bulb dangling above his head cast a fuzzy shadow on the concrete floor. Did I really hit a man so hard he nearly died? How? I don't know how to fight. It felt like a surreal daydream. Still, there was no remorse. Robert had already pulled up Lupe's nightdress and exposed her most private parts to him. That image was burned into Richard's mind despite his considerable displeasure at it. He clenched his fists again, the urge to finish the job and perhaps banish that memory forever rising in him. Bastard won't wake up if he knows what's good for him.
Richard got up and rinsed the blood off his hands with ice-cold water in the sink. There was no towel so he vigorously shook his hand, then laid down on his back on the cot and shut his eyes to block out. My slug cured my legs, made me strong, and sterilized me, he ticked off in his head.
He put a hand on his abdomen. "What other surprises do you have for me?" Richard sighed when he remembered what Lupe had told him. "You better not die. I have someone to protect now. I have a reason to live now." Richard placed his other hand on his stomach as well. The anger and excitement rushed out of him as he felt himself drift off to sleep.
Richard's sleep was peaceful and solid as if he wasn't sleeping in a prison cell. At a few minutes past seven in the morning his lawyer, Anthony Collins, was escorted into his cell by a security agent, who then left them alone. Anthony was a pudgy man, old enough to be Richard's father, with round bronze-colored eyeglasses and oddly hollow cheeks for a fat man.
"I don't know what I can do for you, I'm not a criminal lawyer Richard." Anthony began once they were alone.
"Good, because I'm not a criminal," Richard defended himself. "It's not a crime to defend yourself or your girlfriend. Do they have criminal laws down here?"
Anthony shrugged. "Of course, to an extent. It's all ad-hoc though. Do you want to tell me what you did and I will tell you what your options may be?" He took a notebook out. "I'll help you the best I can, of course. There's not much precedent down here for anything, so maybe we can get lucky if your case is solid."
Richard explained what had happened, with Anthony taking diligent notes. After he finished he asked Anthony what he made of it.
"It seems like there'll be a lot of physical evidence to corroborate your story. Lupe won't be much use as a witness if what you say is true, unfortunately," Anthony thoughtfully said.
"Find her," Richard ordered. "I'm not allowed to contact anyone else otherwise I'd send Rollie to do it."
"The agent at the desk told me you'd probably ask after her and to say that she's currently still out but the doctor said she'll be fine once she sleeps it off. If we can get that doctor to sign an affidavit that she was under the influence of powerful drugs that's more evidence for your case."
"I should be there, with her, she's liable to be scared out of her mind when she wakes up in a strange place alone," Richard bitterly said. "Any chance you can get me out of here now?"
"No, they're pretty adamant about that holding period. Some big wig agent thinks it prevents follow-up incidents, gives you time to cool off. But women are usually much stronger than we give them credit for, so don't worry too much. And speaking of women, what are you planning on doing about your wife? Because if you don't have a plan in mind she could be a hostile witness."
Richard hadn't spared half a thought about Dorothy until that question. "Hostile how?"
"She was there that night. There's not much stopping her from lying about your activities to either smear your character or Lupe's or both. Dorothy could say she saw Lupe drinking heavily or that she was flirting with Robert, for starters. She could say all sorts of things, and it doesn't matter if they are true. The truth is already enough to make you and Lupe out to be if not villains than not innocent angels."
Richard frowned. "Damnation. What do you suggest?"
"Dorothy hasn't got her own lawyer, has she?"
Richard shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, no."
Anthony was silent, clearly plotting out his next move. "Rapture is the whole world down here, do you understand what I mean? This incident has all the makings of a scandal, the sort of scandal that's on everyone's lips for weeks. Rich people, pretty maids, drugs, attempted rape, fistfights on a casino floor, a spurned wife – the whole kit and caboodle. Cases like this are tried in the court of public opinion long before they go to a criminal trial. Our best bet is to get out ahead of it. Give me permission to give information to the papers-"
"I don't want this in the papers!" Richard was mortified. His poor mother would die of shame if she read about this in the tabloids.
"It's already in the papers. The early edition had it on page one – barebones information, but your name and Robert's name are already out there. Do you want…" Anthony consulted his notes, "…Annette to talk to the press first? Because she's going to stop weeping over her pervert husband sooner or later and she'll be even more hostile than Dorothy ever would be."
Richard sighed heavily. This damn town. I can't leave. "Fine, talk to the papers. What are you going to tell them exactly?"
"Flattering things about you. Carefully thought about things about Lupe. Neutral things about Dorothy, at least for now. And the closest I can get to calling Robert a rapist without crossing libel lines. Now let's go over your recollections again so I can give them what we want them to print."
Would you kindly imagine a page-break here?
"And don't you pick up a finger while you're here, you're here as a guest," Roland instructed Lupe as he ushered her into the sitting room of his apartment.
Lupe's eyes widened slightly. She'd have to lift up at least a finger to clear a place to sit down. Magazines and books and take-out boxes and empty bottles and ashtrays and an empty bird cage and other miscellanea covered every available surface. "…thank you for your kindness, Roland," Lupe said. She was genuinely gracious for his hospitality, just a little taken aback.
"Er, yeah, I know, it's a mess. My cleaning lady's been ill the last few weeks and I've been busy at work. But the spare room is tidy, I never go in there, and you'll be plenty cozy in there for as long as you need. And please call me Rollie, only strangers call me Roland." He set her train case down and hung the garment bag up.
Lupe needed a shower and a meal and the loving, secure embrace of Richard but two out of three was going to have to do. "Thank you very much Rollie, again, you're a lifesaver. Probably literally. Dorothy's probably waiting at home with a gun."
"She's a pill, that woman. Why do you think you've never seen me at Richie's house? Can't stand her. She's always rubbed me the wrong way." Rollie grabbed a pile of pulp magazines off an armchair and beckoned for her to sit.
Lupe took a seat with trepidation and found it to be surprisingly comfortable. "Why did they get married? Did they ever love each other? Or like each other?"
Rollie shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know. They did the deed after a party and got married two weeks later. I suppose that's just what Richie thought he was supposed to do. He's pretty good at following directions."
Good at giving them too. "And he just put up with it? For years?"
Rollie sighed and precariously sat down on the sofa across from Lupe between the empty birdcage and what looked like the fossilized remains of side of ribs. "You got to understand, getting shot and crippled really took the wind out of his sails. Richie kept his nose down and in books for years. He spent ten times the time in the library and the lecture hall than he did at home. He always had an aptitude for books but I suppose not being able to walk without pain made sitting and reading and doing sums more attractive than not. Turned him into a damn fine engineer but he didn't learn much about women."
"No, you can't really learn those sorts of things from books."
"But here I am, acting like I don't know a damn thing about women either. I reckon you need some food. When was the last time you ate, huh?"
Lupe blanked on the answer. "I can't recall." Her stomach growled at that very moment.
"You may not believe this, but I am an awful cook," Rollie joked and stood up. "What do you feel like eating?"
"Something plain please, like bread and cheese or apples, my stomach's a bit unstable." The doctor had appeared right before Rollie came to pick her up and informed her that she was likely to feel poorly for the next few days as a result of the heavy sedatives she had been unwillingly exposed to. The doctor also informed her that she owed twenty dollars for treatment and despite her insistence that he get his money from Robert or Annette, Lupe had to part with one of her crisp twenty-dollar bills.
"I know just the spot. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the guest room and rest up. You're looking a bit peakish, if you don't mind me being so blunt. There's a housedress left behind by a…uh, female friend in the closet of the guest room. I don't think she'll mind because, well," Rollie chuckled to himself. "I don't think she's ever coming back, but that's a story for another day."
"You're something of a lady-killer, aren't you Rollie?" Lupe teased him.
"Oh, I've always hated that phrase. I much prefer to be called an aficionado. But here I am, prattling on like a parrot. Please go check out your new bunk while I get dinner."
Rollie left to her own devices. True to his word the guest bedroom was not a disaster zone, although it was a little dusty. She wiped off the nightstand and bed frame and windowsill with a towel she found under the bed, sneezing the whole time. Before stepping into the shower, which was down the hall as Rollie's apartment wasn't as large as the Stone's and did not have the luxuriousness of attached bathrooms to each bedroom, she peered into the closet to check out the promised housedress.
Helena's comment from what seemed like a lifetime ago came back to her about her fellow colleague Joanna 'dating' Rollie when she beheld the dress, which was really a robe, left behind. "Aficionado indeed," she said to herself and took the coral pink satin robe set from the hanger.
While it was very pretty, the robe was not very warm, so Lupe wrapped herself in a flannel blanket before treading back into the living room. The blanket was doubly to keep her modesty from Rollie, who, as a self-described aficionado of women put her on edge just the tiniest bit. She was ninety-nine percent sure he was above board, but give a man an inch and he'll take a mile.
Rollie arrived home about fifteen minutes after she had gotten comfortable in front of the gas fireplace. "Are you cold?" Rollie questioned her after seeing her wrapped in a blanket and huddled near the fireplace.
Lupe nodded. "I'm always cold down here."
"No surprises there. You're from…um, the south, right?"
Lupe nodded again at his rather inelegant prodding about her non-American background. "About as far south as you can go in the Americas, yeah."
"I got your dinner here, farmer's cheese and a sourdough, how's that tickle ya?"
Lupe smiled and stood up. "That tickles me just fine. Do you have a table?"
"Dang, now you're making me feel like a real animal. Course I got a table, it's in the dining room, which is only partially covered in dirty cups and saucers. Would you care for a drink?"
Lupe got up and held the blanket around her with her hand while walking. "I'd like a nice big beer."
"Now that I do have," Rollie answered and led her into the kitchen. "Have a seat and I'll get you a nice frosty one from the icebox. Oh, and by the way, you're in the newspaper."
Lupe groaned. "You're kidding."
"Cat is officially out of the bag now." Rollie handed her the evening edition along with the basket with the bread and cheese. "I read it while waiting for the bread, it's sure something."
His tone of voice made her both curious and worried as she sat down at the table. Lupe tore off a piece of bread and eagerly dipped it into the ceramic cheese dish, figuring she'd need the fortification before digging in. I wonder which page it's on.
She didn't have to look long. The front-page headline read 'OPENING NIGHT CASINO FIGHT' and her heart sank. She sighed and kept reading. The first few paragraphs were a barebones description of the incident and was more or less what the security agents had told her had happened, although the newspaper seemed a lot more focused on the blood splatter on Richard fists and the playing cards. It was all quite lurid.
The following paragraphs got her attention, however, as they purported to have insider information through an exclusive interview with Richard's lawyer. Lupe forgot all about the bread and cheese and frosty beer that Rollie set in front of her as she read the rest of the article.
This reporter spoke to the attorney of Richard Stone this morning, Anthony Collins, who had the following statement prepared: My client, Mr. Stone, was acting in defense of the woman that he has been privately involved with. This involvement has been without the knowledge of his wife, and it is with great regret and sorrow that he must admit to having an extramarital affair. While I cannot comment on the exact nature of the incident that led to the altercation between my client and Mr. Anderson, I believe that the evidence will bear out Mr. Stone's version of events.
When asked if he could share anything about the woman in question, Collins stated that he was not comfortable sharing her name, but noted that she was an accomplished artist who had attended the Rhode Island School of Design and had been employed by Mr. Stone in a domestic capacity.
Lupe laughed hollowly at this blatant lie. The only formal art education she had was a single semester at a local school in Los Angeles, which was far and away from one of the most prestigious art schools in the world. Trying to make me out into a real diva, huh? She hoped she'd never be called out on that outrageous claim.
Mr. Collins shared with this reporter some background information on Mr. Stone,
namely that Stone had been grievously injured during a heroic mission in Germany-
More lies, unless Collins was really stretching the definition of 'heroic'. Richard had been sent out on a routine patrol when he had been shot.
-and ever since has been an innovative designer of defensive weaponry. Many of his
designs are in daily use in Rapture and keep its citizens and their property safe.
At least that part was true.
When reached for comment, Mrs. Stone commented that she was shocked by the evening's events and wished for privacy at this time.
Lupe put the newspaper down. She couldn't help but notice that there was nothing about Annette and very little about Robert. And nothing about me getting gassed. That would probably be quite bad for business if the public knew there was a secret tunnel for assault in them. She thoughtfully mulled that over as Rollie helped himself to some of the bread.
"I had no idea you were such a big deal artist," Rollie commented as he sat at the table next to her.
"Me neither." Lupe's mind was elsewhere though. "When does Richard get released?"
"Technically at around four in the morning tomorrow. But I bet they probably won't let him out until eight or whenever they get into the station."
Lupe was going to be there at the technical hour of his release. "Does he know I am here?"
"I told Collins to tell him you were holed up with me so it was one less thing he had to worry about."
"Good. Is he…upset do you know?" She wanted to ask if he was afraid, but she couldn't bear the idea that he was even half as scared as she had been in lockup. If he was scared she'd be heartsick for a week.
Rollie poured himself a beer. "Collins said he's holding up okay."
Lupe took a sip of her beer "Good. I hate to think he's…upset." I need to show him he's in charge in my own special way as soon as he gets out. Well, maybe not as soon as he's out, it would be right awkward to have our special way in his brother's home. As soon as possible then. She needed their special way too; the attempt on her by Robert put fear into her and she needed it corrected by Richard's firm and authoritative hand.
But that was for later. Right now she had an idea bubbling up – one that might solve all their immediate problems.