Chapter 2: Charles Manser Jr.

There had never been a greater turnout than for the party celebrating Christopher Manser's promotion. Everyone was there, everyone that mattered. And everything was as planned. The paid servers circled about, the bands played serene background music, and numerous uniformed waiters were setting the table. Platters of every imaginable meat, fruit and vegetable, salads ranging from the simplest to the most exquisite lay on the long table, awaiting the hungry guests. The hosts of the evening, Christopher and Julianne Manser, were entertaining a group of old men who, though seemingly dim, were quite important in the electronics industry.

Charles Manser Jr., the only child of Julianne and Charles Manser, skulked in his dark corner by the refreshment table. He had an empty glass clutched in his fist, the material threatening to snap under the pressure. His eyes roamed the great hall until they found those of his uncle, the host of the evening, none other than the great Christopher Manser. Yes, the very one who had been promoted to CEO of Manser industries following the most unfortunate death of Charles Manser Sr. The faithful son seemed to be the only one who believed the death had not been an accident, but most people just blamed it on the emotional shock of a father's passing. Weren't they the smart ones? Christopher looked away first, and Charles snorted.

Sighing, he put down his glass and stood up to stretch before resuming his seat. Of course, the very first person to find him in the crowd was Clara.

"Hey, Charlie," she said, and leaned in to give him a kiss. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," he replied, and she seated herself beside him, "Where've you been?"

"Oh, you know, this and that. Daddy's been wanting for me to return to school, but I think I can talk him out of it. Kurtis is going back, though. You know him, old geeky guy. So… how are you?"

He knew she was referring to his father's death, but Charles didn't feel like ruining her mood today.

"I'm alright – better now that you're here." She grinned and rewarded him with another kiss.

They spent the remainder of the evening together, until the bells rang for dinner, when Clara turned to him and said, "Do you really want to eat with the stuffy crowd?"

"No, not really," he replied with a smile. "Wanna get out of here?"

She grinned and he led the way to his car.

"Interlude?" he said, and she grinned.

"You read my mind."

Donnie cleared away another table, and returned to the kitchen, tip jingling in his pocket. He put down all the dirty dishes and gave the dishwasher boy a smirk, before turning and heading off to the next occupied table.

"What'll you have to drink?" he said automatically, before realizing who he was serving.

"Hey, Donnie," said Charles, and Donnie grinned.

"Charles! Good to finally see you."

"You didn't tell me why you were here."

"I came for the same reason you did."

"For my father's funeral? Or my mother's wedding?"

"Funeral. But I didn't miss the wedding, either."

"I see. Wanna join us?"

"Love to, but I've still got to work, you know. Besides, I think I should be leaving you lovebirds to your private dinner." Donnie winked and Clara laughed. Charles punched his friend on the shoulder.

"What drinks do you have?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Um… check the menu."

"I'll just have water, thanks." said Clara, and Donnie wrote it down.

"I'll have… ah, Clara, you know me better. You order."

Clara smiled at Charlie, and, not bothering to examine the menu, said, "Just give him his red wine."

Donnie nodded and, after running another glance over his friend and Clara, returned to the kitchen.

"Since when does Donnie work here?" said Clara, and Charlie shrugged.

"I think he's been working here every time he came back from school to see his mother. It's usually at long intervals at a time, 'cause he only comes when she gets really sick."

Clara laughed. Charlie turned to look out the window, and she took the moment to study him. The way his neck turned, its bones visible against his skin, towards the window, the way his mouth held a rigid line in solemn contemplation, the way his brow arched and lit in the fading light, the way his teeth were clenched behind the shut lips. His blue eyes seemed to look past whatever it was he saw out on the street, and she knew his thoughts were lingering again on his father. She reached out and touched his hand. Charlie turned and looked at her, and smiled. But she knew he was only smiling on the outside.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and he shook his head. "You can tell me."

"I… well, it's my father lately." He replied, and she marveled at his trust. She grasped his hand, and he looked down at it.

"I don't think it was an accident."

"Charlie, I – "

"Here you go!" Donnie said as he interrupted the beginnings of their heartfelt conversation and plopped down their drinks. Clara looked at Charlie, who was looking at her. He seemed vulnerable just then, at loss as to what to say. He looked at her, his eyes pleading for help. Clara nodded and gave his hand a squeeze before letting go and opening her menu.

"What'll you be eating?" said Donnie.

"I'll have the rib combo, a small portion please. And Charlie will have the steak and rice, well done."

Donnie wrote it down, looked up, smiled and returned to the kitchen again.

"… Charlie?" said Clara after a minute of looking into his eyes. He had been somewhere else, though she felt his presence in front of her, and his eyes piercing through hers. He returned at her words.

"Yes."

He didn't need to explain anything. Clara sighed as he grasped her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have – "

"It's alright, Clara. I trust you."

He bent down and pressed his lips to the back of her hand, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again at the sound of his voice.

"He didn't die naturally, Clara. They found too much insulin in his blood. You know he was diabetic. But I don't think it was suicide."

She couldn't breathe. Charlie's father had been so kind, she had thought no one would hate him enough to murder. She believed every word Charlie said, because he had never lied to her. Not even when the most horrible things came up in her questions. He hid things from her, yes, but when she asked, he never lied.

"Who do you think did it?"

"I checked all the security cameras around his house. The only people to enter that day before the intake of insulin were me, my mother, and my uncle."

"Do you…"

"I wouldn't kill my father, Clara. Not even to get his fortune." His voice was suddenly cold, and he let go of her hand. There were traces of tears in his eyes.

"No, Charlie. No, I'd never accuse you of doing something like that. You can't kill, Charlie. You're too kind, and too intelligent. Charlie… please, listen to me."

He looked up and she reached out to stroke his cheek.

"I'd never do anything to hurt you, Charlie. I'd never accuse you of murder. Don't you trust me?"

"It couldn't have been my mother," he breathed, "she… she loved him too much."

"But your uncle is a good man. I don't think he'd…" she trailed off. He was looking through her eyes again.

"I'm sorry. I – I shouldn't have brought up such a painful subject."

He blinked, and for a moment she thought he might lean over and kiss her. Instead he studied her expression. Clara smiled, and traces of a smile appeared on his face.

"God, I love you," he breathed, and she leaned her forehead against his.

"Say that again."

"I love you."

"Hmm… feeling better now?"

"Much," he replied and kissed her briefly before returning to his upright position. Donnie returned with their dinners and the remainder of the evening was spent in the same spirit of love. Needless to say, he paid the bill.