Title: Man on the Bench-part seven
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick Grayson and Manor crew, plus OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dick spends more time with the cousins, Philip has a visitor
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
The Man on the Bench
Part SevenIn the end, after the argument with Bruce, Dick did go up to the family ski condo with his aunt and the cousins. Uncle James had to work and the grandparents had something come up, but the rest all went with Dick being allowed to skip the last two periods of school to get there at a reasonable time. Alfred picked him up, drove him to the Simpson's and wished him well.
Pat drove the kids up in the SUV, stopping along the way to get a fast food dinner—a treat for Dick since the just suggestion would be enough to make Alfred go pale.
"You've never had a Whopper? You've been living under a rock?"
"My parents didn't believe in it 'cause we were professional athletes and Alfred, well, I don't think he's ever been to a fast food place in his life."
"I guess Bruce wouldn't really…?"
"Bruce says his body is a temple and he doesn't want to defile it."
"Uh-huh. Whatever. You gonna finish your fries?"
"But he ate pizza last weekend, isn't that junk food?"
"Peter, you didn't notice much about the place we ate, did you? That was whole wheat crust, the tomatoes were organic and sun-dried and that was goat cheese on top."
His cousin looked nauseous. "Do I want to know what was in the calzone?"
"Probably not."
"Hey, Mom? Dick wants to know if he can have Dunkin Donuts and a Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich on Wonder bread tomorrow with a lot of soda."
"And Captain Crunch and Count Chocula for breakfast."
"Master Bruce? Mr. Fox is on the phone and would like to speak with you if he may."
"Bruce? I've learned something that has me a bit upset at the moment; do you have a minute?"
Lucius upset? Lucius was never upset. That was why he was in the position he was in. "Of course, what's on your mind?"
"Did you tell Philip Lloyd that I've been investing Dick's inheritance from his parents?"
What? "Of course not, why would I do a thing like that?"
Because Bruce was a known airhead? "I don't know, but he seems to have found out and he knows it's current worth, as well."
Christ. "How much is in that account now, Lucius?"
"As of this afternoon it was at just under five million dollars and I strongly suspect that Lloyd will do what he can to get his hands on it. You know the plan was to keep it growing until Dick was twenty-one; that's another seven years and it should at least double, maybe even triple, but if it's broken up or disbursed…"
"Yes, I see what you're saying. I certainly didn't talk to him about it and Dick isn't aware of it, so how…?"
Bruce could hear Lucius sighing in probably frustration on the other end. "We may have a corporate spy."
Perfect. "See what you can about this; there can't be all that many people with access to the files containing personal financial information, especially about Dick. Look through the accounting department, legal, you know what to check and then let me know."
"I'll call as soon as I know something, Bruce." Lucius hung up, reaffirming his suspicion that Bruce wasn't the complete dope most people thought him to be.
At the Manor, Bruce was thinking that, Jesus, this just kept getting better and better and he still wasn't completely sure what it was Lloyd actually wanted. Was he after money, power, control of Wayne Corp or some part of it or did he really want Dick?
If he wanted Dick, and presumably to also gain control of the money that was being held and invested in trust for him, why? Did he genuinely want to make things right with his wronged grandson or did he simply want to stoke his ego or was it just the money? It seemed to keep coming back to that.
And was Philip Lloyd still involved with the Mob or not?
Enough. It was time to stop playing games.
"Dick, Dude, you have got to show me how you do that."
"Steve, it's totally easy, you just get up enough speed, hit the ramp and just sort of lean back."
"And then not land on your head or break your legs—that's the part where I'm still not clear on the lyrics."
Dick and the cousins were taking runs down the half pipe with Dick showing off enough to impress the peasants who were standing around. Hell, why not? They knew he was a circus rat and they knew he was a flyer—it wasn't a stretch that he would be able to do flips and stuff on a snowboard. Even some of the girls, older girls in like high school, were watching and applauding and, God it felt good, just like when he was back in the circus. He'd pull some stunt that he could do with his eyes closed and people would cheer—he'd forgotten how much he missed that.
After a few more runs they took the lift again, boarding their way to the restaurant on the hill to warm up and have some lunch. They were sitting on the outside deck with their food when a man they'd noticed earlier down at the half pipe came over to Dick. He was one of those guys with 'ski bum' practically tattooed on his forehead; blond, tan, really white teeth, handsome in a Nordic sort of way and you just knew all the girls were in love with him.
"Hey there, guy, I'm Brad Phelps. You mind if I join you for a couple of minutes?" He put his hot chocolate down and squeezed himself onto the bench. "I was watching you down on the pipe a little while ago, you're pretty good—you have a lot of lessons?"
"Thanks, I'm kind of self taught, mostly."
"Yeah? Where'd you learn to move like that? You a gymnast? Diver? Dancer?"
"Gymnast."
"Yeah, it really shows." The man nodded, sizing him up. "How old are you, if you don't mind."
Dick knew better than to answer questions from strangers. Hell, they all had that drummed into them when they were like three years old and he wasn't Robin for nothing. "Why are you asking?"
"Well, it's like this; I'm the East Coast rep for Burton Boards and I think you might have a place on our team if you'd be interested."
"Dick, dude! You are the luckiest person on the entire planet!"
Dick wasn't as immediately impressed, he knew better. Besides, there was no way in hell this would happen.
Brad saw his face. "I can prove who I am, son. I've got all kinds of ID and the guys down in the ski shop all know me. I can show you anything you want, give you company phone numbers. I'd be happy to meet with your parents—honest; I'm not a perv. I just rep the boards and scout guys for the team. Really, I'm legit and you're a Hellava boarder."
"Thanks, but I'm fourteen years old. I don't think I could just pick up and do that, you know?"
"I hear you. It's Dick, right?" Dick nodded. "Well, maybe you could be on the special team. You see, we have one with the younger guys; it tours during the school breaks and spends summer down in South America doing the season down there. I tell you what, I'll give you my card and if you're interested in finding out more about us, you have your parents give me a call, okay? No pressure."
"Dick, you're a total boner if you don't at least check this out, totally, I'm telling you."
"Shut up, Steve. Look, Mr. Phelps, I'm flattered, but I'm kinda busy and I don't think I'd really be interested. I mean, thank you, but things are kind of weird right now and I don't think this is a good time."
"Hey, fair enough, but if you change your mind—not even now, say next year, you call me, okay? Say, I tell you what, you're around the hill for a while—I mean you're not going home tonight or anything, are you?"
None of the boys answered, but the looks on their faces said they'd be here.
"Okay, when you get to the bottom stop in at the ski shop. I'll be there from five to seven today—bring your parents—and I'd like to set you up with one of our boards so you can see how you like it. Sound good?" He got up, gave Dick's shoulder a squeeze and smiled at the others then left them in peace.
The instant he walked away the cousins exploded.
"God—dude!" "You are like touched by God or something!" "He wants to GIVE you a new Burton board to see if you LIKE it? Jesus!"
Later that night, around one in the morning, Pat found Dick up alone in front of the dying fire with the family album on his lap. He was staring at the old snapshots of his mother, looking wistful, sad.
She sat beside him, her arm around his shoulder. "I miss her, too, honey."
Sniffing very slightly, Dick nodded. The two of them remained like that for a long time, slowly going through the album page by page, not saying anything.
Pat knew he was sad, lonely and frightened to death by the changes of the last few weeks and she knew he wasn't sure what to do. How could he? He might act older, but he was still so young. He was such a sweet young man; Mary and John did a good job and, she conceded, so did Bruce Wayne.
Maybe she could cheer him up a little. He simply couldn't go to bed feeling the way he was. "That was quite a compliment you got today—and that new board is beautiful, honey. Maybe you could do that, join their team for the summer. Don't you think that would be exciting?"
He shrugged and shook his head. "I can't go, Bruce has plans for us this summer."
"Well, maybe if you spoke to him he might let you." Her answer was another headshake. "You know what? I'm going to have to ski with you guys tomorrow so you can show off for me, show me all those fancy tricks you can do."
God, Bruce would kill him if he found out that Dick had been hot-dogging and throwing moves that got him noticed; and not just noticed, noticed enough to get offered a sponsorship deal. God, he was dead.
"It wasn't anything special."
At least he was smiling a little. "Prove it to me in the morning, all right?" He nodded. "Now, bed and sleep for both of us."
He turned his face towards her and kissed her cheek. "You're a lot like my Mom."
He got up and disappeared into the dorm bedroom where the other boys were already asleep. Making her way to her own room, Pat thought that was the most heart breaking thing anyone had said to her.
The same night Dick Grayson was sitting in front of the condo fireplace Philip Lloyd was sitting in front of his own fireplace with a glass of twelve year old scotch. The room lights were out, the only illumination from the fire.
This was becoming more of a mess then he'd anticipated.
Everything he'd heard about Bruce Wayne had led him to believe the man was a lightweight with a good staff who really ran things for him. Separate the man from his support and he'd be putty to play with. The good staff part was true enough, but Wayne had more on the ball than he'd expected and it was becoming a problem.
He'd thought that they'd go in, make their pitch, make their offer; Wayne would accept it and that would pretty much be that. He hadn't considered that Wayne might have actually developed a genuine paternal affection for the boy or that Dick would not jump at the chance to move in with his real family.
It simply hadn't been part of the equation.
Hell. This was becoming a pain that he wanted resolved, and soon. Time was starting to get short. Then something in the room changed, probably just Carolyn wanting him to come back to bed and get some rest.
The barely audible rustle behind him warned him before he heard the almost inhuman voice.
"I'll be up in a few minutes."
"Not until you tell me why you're suddenly interested in Bruce Wayne's ward."
Philip half froze and half turned at the sound of the low voice, but though startled, he'd played games in and out of court intimidating witnesses for too long to be completely thrown. He could feign and bluff with the best. "I assume you know the boy is my grandson. What more reason do I need?"
"A grandson you ignored for fourteen years."
"A part of my family."
"With enough money to pay your outstanding tax bills."
"That was never an issue."
The laugh wasn't pleasant or long. "But Richard Grayson has no access to the money until he's twenty-one. Were you planning on having yourself named the trustee?"
"My grandson doesn't have any money; my daughter and her husband had nothing and that's what he inherited."
Batman took a step closer, Philip instinctively pulled back further into the chair.
"You paid an intern at Wayne Corp's accounting department to find out the personal worth of not just Bruce Wayne but Richard Grayson as well. You paid ten thousand dollars and you paid it in cash. The intern's name is Madeline Koehler; she's a senior at NYU, majoring in math and business. Her family lives in Scarsdale. Her father is one of your junior associates at Lloyd and Penn and he's in danger of losing his job for incompetence. You received the information in a phone call three days ago."
"Allegations. You have no proof…"
"Back off, leave the Grayson boy alone or I'll be back for more than a talk."
Philip started to respond but Batman was gone, melted into the shadows and through the wall, for all he knew. Looking down, he saw that his hand was shaking; the good scotch trembling in the baccarat glass, firelight reflecting through the gold liquid.
It had seemed like such a good idea, but now…
No.
It was still a good idea. It was the only way left to handle this and the boy would benefit as well. It was a win-win deal. The taxes would be paid off, the fines would be settled, and the houses would be secured along with the cars and Carolyn's jewelry. Lloyd and Penn could stay in business and no one would be fired. With any luck he could even pay Dick back in a couple of years. At the very least, the boy would be taken care of, his schooling paid for. Dick would be surrounded by his real family. He'd get to know his cousins and Pat and James would become second parents to him.
Philip hated being threatened. He hated the feeling of being backed into a corner and knowing that someone knew that you had a weakness. He hated it.
And his instinctual reaction to being threatened was to strike back.
TBC
8