A/N: I know I am beyond late posting this chapter, but in the midst of finalizing it, our world was gripped by the coronavirus. Unbelievable. Since I am now working from home, I have had little time to write, even though we are under stay-at-home orders from the State. I finally got the energy to finalize the chapter today, although it is shorter than usual. I hope it brings a wee bit of entertainment during these challenging times. Please be safe. Here we go!
Chapter 69. Grant v. Grant
Olivia moans soft and low, reveling in the pleasurable sensation of his mouth gliding over her swollen breasts. She closes her eyes as he tenderly sucks her sensitive nipples, they are impossibly hard. He slides down the bed, kissing and licking her round stomach, and she smiles when she feels him smile against her stomach; the babies have begun their dance.
His mouth travels downward and her breathing quickens as his tongue traces the contours of her thighs. She arches her back, lifting her bottom from the bed when the long finger thrusts in and out the wetness. Her hips instinctively move back and forth, she wants him to go deeper. Instead, he teases her. He knows her body, he knows how to wind her up before taking her over the cliff.
She spreads her legs wide, expelling a guttural sound as his stiff tongue darts deep inside. It feels incredible. She presses his head closer; she wants him to suck it hard. She wants him to make her cum, but he continues his tortuous gameplay. She moves her hips faster, riding his mouth hard in search of the prize. And when his warm, wet mouth covers the soft, sensitive flesh, she cries out to her God. The feeling is intense. He sucks harder and she thrashes about the bed, grabbing a fistful of the once crisp sheets. And finally, with face contorted from the agony and the ecstasy, a sound originating from somewhere deep in her soul shatters the early morning silence, and she begins to laugh, not at him, but because of him. She feels wonderful.
As the moisture pools between her thighs, she lies back on the pillow, gliding her tongue across her lips thinking her husband is always generous and considerate. She wants to be close to him. She wants to cuddle. She reaches for him and frowns immediately when her fingers feel the cold empty sheets. Her eyes slowly flutter open and she groans. He is not there. It was just a dream.
She looks at the clock on his night table, squinting at the glowing blue numbers, it is after 2 o' clock in the morning. She wonders if he is still downstairs visiting with Ty. She sighs because the babies are pressing on her bladder again. As she waddles to the bathroom, she shakes her head thinking Fitz is right, it has been too long since they made love.
XXX
Holding onto the oak railing, Olivia slowly descends the steep staircase in search of her husband. He is never awake at this time of the morning. Her brow crinkles when she reaches the bottom of the staircase and sees all lights in family room are still on. She wonders if he and Ty are still out on the terrace. She heads across the room toward the French doors that lead outside, and once again frowns because the outside lights are also on but neither man is in sight. She flicks off the terrace lights then heads toward the kitchen, stopping when she sees the yellow light streaming from underneath the study's door. She follows the light.
Pushing open the slightly ajar door, she sees him sitting behind the desk with a bottle of Scotch whiskey and a half-filled glass. His face is silhouetted by the small desk lamp, so she turns on the recessed lights and he squints, raising his hand to shield his face from the bright overhead lights.
"Are you drinking?" She asks with confusion in her voice.
"Yes", he slurs.
"Are you drunk?" She asks, walking deeper into the room.
"Yes."
"Is this a good drunk or a bad drunk?" He stares at her blankly through bleary, bloodshot eyes. "Come on – let's get you to bed, Mister."
As she helps him up the long staircase, she asks again why he is drinking at this hour of the morning, but the most he can muster is a garbled and unintelligible response. She shakes her head, thinking he and Ty must have had a really good visit because she has seen him in this state in years since. He limited his drinking significantly after Cena was born.
XXX
With arms outstretched and flattened hands pressed against the glass shower wall, Fitz leans forward, allowing the water to rain down over his throbbing head. He has been standing in the same position for the last 30 minutes trying to wash away the little man that will not stop banging around inside his head. His body feels like someone beat him from head to toe with a baseball bat, and his mouth tastes like he has been sucking on cotton balls all night. He drank more than he intended after Ty left last night.
Slowly turning around the glass enclosure, enjoying the feeling of the water pulsating from the body jets massaging his achy muscles. he thinks about the bombshell Ty dropped last night. He cannot believe it. Although he trusts his friend implicitly, the idea that his elderly father is the kingpin of a secret organization makes no sense; in fact, it is downright preposterous. But what if Ty is right? What if his father is really the head of a political cabal? He needs answers. He must speak with his father.
XXX
With little to no success, Olivia tries to block out the sounds of music blaring from the tablet and Cena and Asha jumping around the kitchen attempting to reprise one of the dance routines Ebony taught them. She rubs her temple thinking it is going to be a long day. She planned to spend the morning locked in the study reviewing the proposal for safe injection sites she helped to draft with Gray and the team, but with her husband still in bed hugging his pillow she needs to prepare breakfast this morning. She cannot remember the last time she was on breakfast duty, especially on a Sunday.
Standing at the granite island top, Olivia vigorously beats the batter in the large red- and white-striped ceramic mixing bowl, trying to remove the few remaining lumps of flour. She glances over at the vase filled with the lilies that Ty bought her, and smiles. She feels better that she finally let Ty know how she has felt about for all these years. She is also relieved that the man is not who she thought him to be. She is sure Fitz will be happy they have reconciled their differences.
Olivia glances down at Jolie sitting on the floor quietly playing with her toy. Her baby's angelic demeanor is in contrast to the daredevil she has become as of late. She must watch her baby girl all the time these days. She beats the batter a few more times with the large wooden spoon before carrying the mixing bowl over to the counter next to the stove. The loud music is starting to annoy her.
"Turn it down, Cee", she says as she ladles about a cup of the batter into the hot frying pan.
With a hand resting on her wide hip and the other holding the stainless-steel spatula, Olivia watches the batter slowly transform into a pancake. Flipping the breakfast cake at the right time is the key to making perfect golden pancakes. Flipping too soon will result in under-cooked batter and waiting too long to flip will result in an overcooked, burnt disaster.
"Turn the music down, Cee", she repeats as she thinks about how their Sunday mornings used to be.
Before everything changed, they would have a light breakfast of coffee, tea, juice, fruit, yogurt, and toast before hurrying off to church to get Cena and Jolie settled at Sunday school. And when they returned from church, Fitz would prepare an early dinner which they often enjoyed while sitting on the terrace. She frowns as she thinks about all the Sunday service activities she misses, like congregating in the anteroom and catching up with friends and other church members before going into the sanctuary. She wonders how Yvonne is doing, maybe she will schedule them for lunch if Darius does not object.
Shifting her weight from the right foot to the left, Olivia thinks about the praise dancers sailing across the front of the sanctuary. She glances over at Cena and wonders if her daughter will become a praise dancer one day. She would love to see their aspiring dancer praising the Lord through dance.
She flips the pancake and thinks about rousing voices of the choir and chuckles lightly when she remembers how Deacon Butler would read the church bulletin as if he were delivering a sermon. Deacon Butler would go on and on for so long, Rev. Walker would clear his throat signaling to the enthusiastic man it was time to move on. And, when Rev. Walker finally took his place at the podium, everyone knew he would deliver another soul-stirring and thought-provoking sermon that would linger on her mind throughout the week. She sighs because they have not attended church since Kelly's funeral.
"She said do it like this, Cena", Asha yells, in an attempt to correct Cena's dance moves.
"No — she didn't", Cena shoots back, "she said to do it like this", demonstrating the dance routine based on her recollection.
"GoGo — didn't Miss Ebony say to do it like this?" Asha insists, shaking her hips from side to side then waving a hand in the air.
"No - she didn't, mommy. Miss Ebony said to do it like this. Right?" Tapping her foot twice then turning and shaking her hips.
Olivia looks over her shoulder as each girl demonstrates their version of Ebony's dance routine. She silently groans when she hears the jingle of Bowtie's dog tags as he enters the kitchen. She must feed him breakfast, too.
"Well — if I recall — it seems like you both are doing parts of the dance correctly", she says, trying to be diplomatic.
"Mommy — look at Jo — she's climbing under the table like a monkey."
Bowtie barks in the direction of the farmhouse table and Olivia sighs because Jolie is demonstrating her acrobatic abilities again. Climbing on chairs and jumping up and down on the huge modular sectional sofa in the family room has become one of Jolie's favorite things to do. She has begun to make almost every surface in the house part of her personal jungle gym. This morning, the farmhouse table has become another accessory in her indoor play set. Olivia is beginning to regret allowing Lindsay to include the new table set in the newly renovated kitchen.
"Jo", Olivia screams, dropping the spatula on the counter and hurrying over to the table as fast as her swollen feet will allow. Bending at the waist, she looks under the table at her toddler whose hands and feet are wrapped around the rustic table's wooden frame.
"Come to mommy, baby", Olivia pleads in a calm voice as she extends her hand to the toddler.
"No", Jolie replies with her new favorite word. Asha and Cena look at each other with wide eyes.
"Jo — get down —now", Olivia shouts over the blaring music as she gets down on all fours and tries to coax the toddler. But, Jolie simply laughs at her mother's agitated face and Bowtie barks again.
"GoGo – look!" Asha yells, pointing to the white smoke billowing up from the frying pan.
"The panny cakes are burning, mommy!" Cena shrieks and her mother's head wrench around in the direction of the stove.
"Oh – no", Olivia exclaims, looking over at the stove in horror.
The smoke detector beeps on cue and she rushes over to the stove, grabs the frying pan with the oven mitt, and tosses the pan into the sink. The sounds of Bowtie barking, the smoke detector beeping incessantly, and the blaring music hurtle Olivia to her breaking point.
"I said turn down that music, Cena. Now turn it off. Quiet Bowtie!" Flinging open the large window above the copper farmhouse sink.
"My eyes are burning, GoGo", Asha whines.
Olivia snatches open the kitchen door, steps outside, and rubs her protruding stomach; she wants to scream. She needs a minute. She sits on the small chair and squints up at the tall western hemlock, trying to locate the chirping goldfinch. At there is one good thing about this morning she thinks.
"Mommy — I'm hungry", Cena calls to her mother with a bit of trepidation. Her face red is from coughing.
"Me — too", Asha says, rubbing her burning eyes.
Olivia sucks in another lungful of the fresh morning air, then stomps back into the kitchen and toward the pantry. Cena and Asha look at each other when she returns with a box of cereal and quickly fills two bowls with the dry flakes.
"Sit down - we're having cereal this morning", splashing milk into each bowl. Asha and Cena frown at the flakes in the yellow bowls. They do not like the sugar-free cereal.
"Can we have toast too, mommy?" Cena asks, hoping to spice up the bland breakfast.
"In a minute, Cena", Olivia replies as she starts to scrub the burnt frying pan.
"With boysenberry jam, please."
"I want strawberry jam, GoGo — and orange juice", Asha says, tapping the PLAY icon on the tablet to restart the music.
"I told you to turn that thing off, Cena. Don't turn it in again."
Cena opens her mouth preparing to clear her good name, but her mother snaps at her again.
"If you don't keep it off I'm going to take it for a week. Do. You. Understand?"
Cena drops her head and pokes out her bottom lip.
"Do. You. Understand?"
"Yes, mommy", sliding her hand across the table to tap the STOP icon.
XXX
Dressed in a gray tee shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, a haggard-looking Fitz walks through the family toward the kitchen. His nose crinkles when the unmistakable smell of burning food travels up his nostrils to his Scotch-soaked brain. He wants to gag. Standing in the doorway, he scans the kitchen wondering what happened. The smoke detector is beeping, pancake batter is splattered over the granite island, and Cena and Asha sit at the farmhouse table looking like two hostages. Bowtie looks at him with sad eyes and whimpers.
"Daddy", Cena yells, beginning to stand to greet her father.
"Baaba", Asha yells, beginning to stand, too. Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose; the screaming girls are exacerbating his headache.
"Sit down and finish your breakfast", Olivia commands, and the girls quickly climb back onto the bench and stare down at the soggy cereal.
"Good morning, Princess", tousling his daughter's hair. "Good morning, Ash", patting Asha on the top of her head, too. "How are my girls doing this morning?" His voice raspy from too much expensive Scotch and cigars.
"GoGo burnt the pancakes and we have to eat cereal", Asha reports sulkily. She does not realize his question is rhetorical.
"Daddy — look at Jo — she's hanging under the table and mommy can't get her."
"She told GoGo no", Asha adds for emphasis.
"Good morning, Angel", bending down to greet his acrobatic daughter.
"No", Jolie replies. Fitz shakes head with amusement because his angel's reply makes no sense. He presses the button on the smoke detector to stop the beeping, then walks over to his wife and greets her with a kiss on the cheek. She recoils from his unshaven face.
"Good morning", he says, glancing in the sink at the burnt frying pan. He knows better to comment on the disarray of the kitchen and the smell of burnt pancakes.
"Get her from under there, Fitz."
"She's just hanging out", flashing the crooked smile that usually gets him out of the doghouse, but his wife is not impressed this morning.
"You look awful — pale. And you need to shave", frowning at his face.
"I love you — too", walking over to the refrigerator. He needs water.
"Coffee is ready", motioning her head toward the coffeemaker on the counter next to the stove.
"I need water first — lots of water", unscrewing the cap and quickly bringing the bottle to his mouth. He is dehydrated.
"Are you all right?" He asks, leaning against the counter and watching her scrub the burnt pan.
"It's been a little hectic this morning", brushing the back of her hand across her forehead. "What time did Ty leave last night?"
"Eleven-ish", looking past her shoulder at the terrace through the open window. He brings the bottle to his mouth again.
"Why were you in the study last night?" Speaking in code so the girls do not know he was up drinking until the early hours of the morning.
"I'll explain later", grabbing another bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Why don't you go sit down? I'll clean the kitchen."
"Are you sure?"
"I got this, Liv. Go relax."
Asha watches Olivia walk from the kitchen then turns to Fitz to make her confession.
"Baaba, GoGo yelled at Cena for turning on the music – but Cena didn't turn on the music — I did." He gives the little girl a weak smile, although he is not quite sure what she is talking about.
"How would the two of you like to go swimming today?" Trying to cheer up the long-faced girls.
"Yay", Asha and Cena yell in unison.
"Finish your breakfast and we'll get our bathing suits on after I clean the kitchen", reaching into the cabinet for a mug. He is ready for coffee.
"Daddy — may I have toast with jam?"
"Of course", he says, walking over to the counter and sliding his hand into the open loaf of bread.
"I want toast — too, Baaba — with strawberry jam."
"Two slices of toast coming right up. One with boysenberry and one with strawberry jam."
"Can I have orange juice, Baaba?"
"You sure can", making his third trip to the refrigerator this morning.
"May I have apple juice, daddy?" Bowtie looks up at him with sad eyes and whimpers again. He wants breakfast, too.
"One apple juice", he says, setting the glass on the table in front of his daughter. "Mommy's just tired", he whispers in her ear, then presses a kiss to the top of her head. Cena smiles up at her father. "One orange juice for the Little Darling", failing miserably in his attempt to imitate Ty's Southern drawl.
"That's not how Mr. Ty says it, daddy", Cena says, laughing so hard she almost falls from the bench.
"It's not, Little Darling?"
"No, Baaba - that's not how you say it", Asha giggles with a missing-tooth smile "It's L'il Darlin'."
Asha and Cena laugh out loud as Fitz scoops dog food from the bin and drops it into Bowtie's bowl. He pours water from his bottle over the dry food and, with tail wagging wildly, Bowtie runs over to the bowl and immediately begins to lap up the food.
Intrigued by all the laughter happening above her, Jolie climbs from under the table and looks at the two older girls.
"Baaba, is Mr. Ty coming back today?"
"He's so funny, daddy. He tells funny stories." He certainly does, Fitz thinks to himself.
"Mr. Ty has to go to Seattle for business — then he'll return to his home in California."
"Can we go to California, daddy?"
"Where is California?" Asha asks and Cena shrugs her shoulders. "Baaba — where is California?"
"It's two states away", opening the tablet to display the map of the United States. "We live here in the State of Washington", pointing to The Evergreen State.
"Church Falls", Cena yells.
"That's right, Princess. We live in the Eastern part of the state – then there's Oregon —"
"Aunt Nora lives in Oregon. Right, daddy?"
"Right, Princess. Oregon is one state south of our state. Then there's California", pointing to The Golden State. Jolie struggles to climb onto her father's lap, she wants to be included in the geography lesson.
"When mommy was a little girl - like you - she lived with your grandparents all the way on the other side of the country — there in New York", pointing to The Empire State.
"That's far", Asha says.
"Can we go to New York, daddy?"
"One day", he says, standing and dangling Jolie up and down by the feet as he walks over to the sink. Jolie laughs hysterically.
XXX
Dressed in a colorful sleeveless, mid-thigh beach caftan, her favorite wide-brim straw hat, and large round sunglasses, Olivia walks onto the terrace carrying the oversized canvas tote bag. She kicks off her sandals and sits on one of the chaise-lounge chairs preparing to enjoy the solitude before the gang comes out. After this morning's kitchen catastrophe, all she wants to do is relax poolside and enjoy the late-morning sun. Unfortunately, her respite is short-lived, because the sounds of squeaky flip-flops signal the gang is coming out. She looks over at her husband who is leading the way carrying Jolie in his arms and closely followed by Cena and Asha who are carrying various pool toys. Playing in the sun with two screaming six-year-olds is not a good idea for someone with a hangover she thinks as she digs into the tote bag for Jolie's fragrance-free sunscreen.
"Put her hat back on, babe", Olivia calls to her husband when she sees her fair-skinned daughter's hat sitting lopsided on her head. Fitz adjusts the hat and Jolie quickly pushes his hand away, and Cena and Asha eagerly run toward the pool; they are ready to play.
"Come on, daddy."
"Wait – wait. Let me put sunscreen on you", Olivia calls out, halting the girls' trek toward the pool.
Asha and Cena make a quick about-face and grudgingly walk over to Olivia to once again get slathered with the sticky lotion.
"Now you can go", shooing away the excited little girls. "It looks like you and Ty had a good time last night", nodding her head in the direction of the table across the way. Fitz frowns when he realizes he forgot to clean up the mess he and Ty made last night. He places Jolie in her mother's arms and begins to gather up the bottles of spirits, the humidor, the ashtray with two half-smoked cigars, and glasses.
"Be still, Jo", Olivia says, struggling to slather sunscreen over her daughter's face, but Jolie is not interested in having her face covered with the lotion, so she quarrels with her mother in gibberish.
XXX
After an hour of playing in the pool with the girls, Fitz drags his tired body over to where Olivia is lounging. He feels worse than he did when he woke up this morning.
"I'm wiped out", swiping the plush beach towel across his body. Olivia shakes her head.
"You spoil them – running around blowing bubbles and playing Marco Polo in your condition. You should lie down and recuperate", staring up at him from behind her sunglasses.
"They haven't been in the pool in a while", stretching his achy body onto the lounger and quickly sliding on his Wayfarer sunglasses.
"You should put on more sunscreen."
"I'm fine", reaching for the bottle of water on the table situated between the two lounge chairs.
"Jo is becoming a handful these days - she's such a daredevil. She has absolutely no fear of danger", smiling down at her sleeping daughter.
"The world is one big playground for Jo. She just wants to explore everything. She'll grow out of it."
"I can't let her out of my sight for a minute. I don't remember Cee being as reckless."
"Have you forgotten how Cee always tried to climb out her crib? That's why we got her the big-girl bed", he says, watching from behind the green-tinted lens the girls splash around the pool.
Olivia nods with a smile.
"She's also becoming stubborn — defiant. She likes saying no to everything. Cee was more compliant as a toddler."
"They're different, Liv. The twins are going to be different — too. By the way — Asha said she turned on the music — not Cee", bringing the bottle of water to his mouth.
"It's been a crazy morning — I'll apologize to her later. Babe, Ty said something interesting last night. He said he has terminated executives for inappropriate behavior in the workplace. He doesn't tolerate that sort of thing."
"Mhm", he mutters. He is not interested in discussing Ty's business practices right now. He just wants to sleep and soak up the sun.
"Fred Bryson is a good man - I'm sure he has similar beliefs. I'm sure if he knew what happened he wouldn't hesitate in firing that man for what he did to Kelly. Fred cares about all his employees."
Fitz does not respond.
"Babe."
"Hmm?" He is close to dozing off.
"I want to go to church next Sunday - it's been a while. I really miss fellowshipping with our church family."
"I'm not sure Asha is ready for that, Liv."
"She can visit with your parents while we're at church. It's time she and your mother start spending time together."
His jaw tightens.
"What's the matter?" She asks, staring at his tense profile.
"I'll stay at home with her while you and the girls go to church."
"No. I want us to go together — as a family — like we used to", she says emphatically, not leaving any room for discussion.
"I'm going to take a nap — keep your eyes on the girls." He is not in the mood to argue with his wife.
She glares at him from behind her sunglasses, she hates when he shuts down a conversation.
"By the way — I need to visit my father in the morning — I'll be back before lunch."
She looks at him with surprise, she does not recall him mentioning anything about visiting his parents. She wonders if he is going to set a date for Asha to move in with them.
"I'll explain later", he says, sensing her question.
XXX
"Fitzgerald— this is a surprise. Your mother didn't say you were visiting today."
"Mom didn't know I was coming", waiting to be invited into his childhood home.
"I see. Well - your mother isn't here – she's out shopping again for Asha. That little girl is gonna have a wardrobe that rivals Princess Beatrix'."
"May I come in?"
"Of course - of course", stepping aside to allow his son entrance. Fitz glances around the hall wondering how many secrets the walls hold.
"I was just sitting here reading the newspaper - can I get you something cold to drink? I'm sure your mother has iced tea or lemonade in the frig."
"No — thank you. I won't be staying long."
"How are Olivia and my grandchildren doing? Your mother and I must get over to the house soon to see them. Is something wrong, Fitzgerald?" Sensing his son is agitated about something.
"I recently received some disturbing information and I need you to tell me it's not true."
"What kind of information?" Gerry asks with confusion in his voice.
"Are you the head of some political cabal?" Staring in his father's eyes for a sign of iniquity, but Gerry does not bat an eye.
"A cabal?" Laughing off the question as ridiculous. "Why would you ask such a thing? Who are you talking to?"
"My friend Ty — "
"That goddamn Southerner. I heard he was in town trying to drum up business. I never liked him — loud and boisterous. I don't know what you see in that man."
"Don't you dare try to make this about Ty. Answer my question."
"I don't know what the hell he's talking about. Your friend is pulling a fast one on you, son. You better watch out for that man – he's not to be trusted. All those shady deals he's involved you in — if he doesn't watch out the Justice Department might come knocking at both your doors."
"All our business deals were legal. There was nothing inappropriate about them", Fitz shoots back, although he knows his father is trying to lead him down the rabbit hole.
Gerry sucks his teeth and waves his hand in the air dismissively. He does not have time to entertain hearsay.
"Ty says he has evidence you've been bribing officials for years to get favorable policies passed. He says you've also been trying to privatize the city's police department for years. He wanted me to schedule a meeting with you to pitch his business proposition."
"I would never do business with that man. I want nothing to do with him", walking over to his chair and swiping up the newspaper from the seat cushion.
"So — you're not involved with some kind of syndicate?" Gerry grimaces at his son's language. His patience is wearing thin.
"Enough of this interrogating. You might've been some hotshot negotiator — but you don't get to come into my home questioning me. I'm not one of those poor saps you beat into submission to gain control of their business for that friend of yours. I fight back."
"Then answer my question", Fitz demands, taking a step toward his father, and Gerry glares at his namesake with his cold blue eyes.
"I don't owe you an explanation about my business practices. I don't ask about yours — so don't ask about mine."
Fitz stares at his father, waiting for an answer. He knows when someone is evading a question.
"Fine - you want to do this? Syndicate? What do you think I'm some mobster – some street corner thug? You underestimate me, son. I told you, Fitzgerald — I'm not some old feeble geezer who sits around all day sucking on Jell-O and Tapioca. I make things happens."
Fitz stares at his father with furrowed.
"You want to know what I do — who I am? I'm the man who's going to restore this state — the whole West Coast – to what this country once was. It's become too damn liberal. Washington is one of the wealthiest states in this great country — but it's gone to hell. It's become too socially progressive: legalized assisted suicide — same-sex marriage — recreational cannabis — all of it must be stopped."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Fitz asks, the furrow in his brow deepening as his brain tries to process his father's proclamation.
"We control school boards because we donate millions to build schools. We're shaping the minds of the future. We provide venture capital for new innovations. But most important— we control the political process. We own politicians all the way up the line. We own almost every elected official in this state. We control all of Eastern Washington — conservative – and we're only five districts away from controlling both sides of the Cascades. Once we put our people in office we'll control the entire state. We'll turn Washington red again. We'll decide who's the next President."
"My God — it's true", Fitz says half to himself. "you've been bribing candidates and officials to influence the outcome of elections."
"First - they're not bribes or payoffs – that's what mobsters do with money crumbled in brown paper bags. We make donations – fund campaigns. And when those greedy politicians get into office – they must reciprocate. Like you, son – all my business dealings are perfectly legal."
"That may be true – but it doesn't make them ethical."
"Grow up - I didn't create the game – I just refined it."
Fitz shakes his head in disappointment. He cannot believe the things coming from the mouth of the man he has loved and respected his entire life.
"We have to stop all this Progressive nonsense and restore real American values. We have to reclaim this country."
"Real American values? You don't get to define this country's values. The people do."
"Pfft", Gerry huffs with a wave of the hand. "The people don't give a damn about what's going on in this country. All they want to do is look down at their screens all day and watch reality TV. They want to be entertained and distracted from their miserable lives — and we give them exactly what they want. We feed them a bunch of garbage on their screens — big and small - while we do the real work."
"Who the hell is we?"
"The true patriots. Those who only want the best for this country. Those who truly love this great country."
"What you're doing is not about love of country – it's about greed. It's about lining your pockets and those like you by undermining the will of the people. Who are you? I don't know you anymore."
"I'm the same man who got you into The Naval Academy because you wanted to serve your country and pay back those damn terrorists for 911. You remember? I'm the same man who bailed you out of that mess you got in with that Ty Granger when the two of you were screwing everything that moved in Southeast Asia. You didn't care how I got things done back then."
"The people deserve better."
"The people deserve exactly what they get — what we decide to give them. You should've stayed out of politics, son - continued running your business. Politics is a dirty business. You're not built for this game. You have no idea what you're dealing with."
"I'm serving the people of the city — the people who elected me."
"You live in a fool's paradise, Fitzgerald — a cloistered life. You look at the world through rose-colored glasses — always have. Olivia encourages it."
"You leave my wife out of this." Gerry rolls the newspaper tight and shakes his head with pity.
"Go home, Fitzgerald - forget everything you think you know. Go enjoy your wife and kiss my grandchildren. Go up to that expensive house of yours in the mountains for a few weeks and leave the real work to people like me."
"Is this the legacy you want to leave for your family — for your grandchildren?"
"Who the hell do you think I'm doing this for? I'm creating a better world for Ethan — Cena — and Jolie. I'm creating a better world for the Grants that have yet to been born."
"What you're doing has nothing to do with building a better world. What you're doing is about power and greed. You're putting your thumb on the scale — tipping it in your favor."
"Go home, Fitzgerald", he is bored with his son's foolishness.
"I'm not naïve enough to think I can change this system – the corruption is too deep – but I can stop you from taking further advantage of our citizens. You won't get the police department. You won't privatize the department so you and your cronies can fill your pockets and control how policing is done."
"And who's going to stop me – you?" Scoffing at his son's threat.
"Damn right."
The tension in the air is thick, and the two men glare at each other from their defensive position.
"Before you ride in here on your high horse berating me about my patriotism — for how I choose to serve this great country - you should look inside your own home and see what is going on."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Fitz' chest rising and falling with anger.
"You wanna burn down my house? Fine. But you better be prepared to burn down yours — too — both of them."
"Are you threatening me?" Fitz asks with disbelief.
Gerry steps toward his son and stares straight into his eyes. He is fed up with his son's haranguing, so he goes right for the jugular. He knows his son's Achilles heel.
"Dear — sweet, Olivia. She works so hard to help the poor and underprivileged. Ten million dollars is a lot of money — even for a man as wealthy as Fred Bryson."
Fitz eyes widen and Gerry smirks deviously.
"You're not so goddamn smug now — are you? I didn't think so. Your wife is doing the bidding of Fred Bryson. Fred is using Olivia to do the same thing that I do — that we all do —shape the world in our image. Do you think he's giving her all that money to run his philanthropy program because he is so damn altruistic? The way men like me and Bryson stay in power is to remain invisible — get others to do our work. There are certainly enough greedy politicians and do-gooders like Olivia who are more than willing to take our money. We purchase them every day – like cheap candy. The real leaders of this country have no interest in holding public office or publicity - we prefer to remain anonymous - control those we own from the shadows."
"You're insane."
"No — we're like gods. God works in mysterious ways — isn't that what they say?" Chuckling mirthlessly as he walks back to his favorite chair.
"I'm going to stop you", Fitz growls as he storms from the room.
Unfazed by his son's threats, Gerry sits down in the chair, crosses his legs, and unfurls the newspaper. He knows, in time, Fitzgerald will get over his faux outrage and settle down – get in line. And, they will all celebrate the births of three new babies that are coming into the family and enjoy wonderful family meals together like they always have. Nothing will change.
As Fitz turns the corner that leads from the family room to the hall, he is suddenly stopped by that sinking feeling, that bad feeling you get in the base of your stomach when you realize something terrible has happened. He grabs ahold of the wall, trying to remain upright, trying not to crash to the floor.
He feels sick. He wants to puke. He does not want it to be true. With hand balled into a tight fist, he inhales deeply, trying to steady his nerves before walking back into the family room. Gerry looks up from the newspaper and frowns at his son's crimson face.
"You said you own elected officials – bribe them – pay them off — to get what you want. You want the police department. The only way you can get it is with the council and mayor's support. You needed a council president — one who would give you whatever you want. You needed Charlie. You bastard — you supported the man who tried to kill my family."
The real secret is out.
Fitz lunges across the room and grabs his father by the throat and Gerry's eyes bulge like a bullfrog lazing on a lily pad on a hot summer day. Denial is pointless.
"I didn't know — I tell you. I didn't know. Mayor Wilson was supposed to control him - he let that nut off his leash. But I took care of Wilson - I made him pay. He'll sit in prison for the next 10 years."
"Do you think I give a damn about Wilson? Your greed almost got my family killed", Fitz yells, tightening his hand around the old man's throat.
"I can't breathe - you're killing me", Gerry croaks out as he desperately tries to pry his son's hands from around his neck.
Fitz stares into his father's frightened eyes with a look that can only be described as pure hate. He tightens his grip. When he hears the front door open, he hurls his father across the room, and Gerry stumbles back against the fireplace rubbing his neck.
"You're going to jail", Fitz growls as he turns to leave.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Gerry roars back from his slumped position against the fireplace mantle. With nostrils flaring, Fitz turns abruptly and glares at his father with contempt in his eyes.
"God", he spews, and Gerry's eyes bulge wider, if that were at all possible.
"Don't you dare walk out of here. We're family. Everything I've done I did for our family — for our country."
"You come near me and my family again and I'll kill you", Fitz says in an eerily calm voice that belies his inner turmoil. He storms from the room, unbuttoning his collar as he hurries down the hall toward the front door. He cannot breathe. He needs air.
XXX
"Fitzgerald — I saw your car in the driveway — I didn't know you were visiting today", Maura says, anxiously looking around the hall hoping to see Asha.
"I was just leaving", he says angrily as he pushes past his mother.
"Leaving? When are you going to bring Asha for a visit? She needs to get used to her new home. I've been shopping again as you can see", holding up the shopping bags of varying sizes and colors. "I picked up a few more things for her. I know I'm overdoing it — but I just couldn't resist. There are so many pretty things to buy for a little girl. I picked up a few things for Cena and Jolie — too", she says with hurried excitement.
"Asha won't be living here, mom."
"What? Fitzgerald — what are you saying?" Her eyes wide with shock.
"Ask your husband", he snaps, slamming the door behind him. With heart pounding in her chest, Maura hurries up the hall in search of her husband.
"Gerry— what's going on? What's wrong with Fitzgerald? Why would he say Asha will not be living with us?"
"Not now, Maura", Gerry growls as he stomps over to the bar and pours a drink. He has not drunk anything stronger than black coffee in the past few years.
"What did you do?" She demands.
"I said not now, Maura."
"If you've caused me to lose that little girl I will never forgive you."
"You can't lose what was never yours. Now leave me alone", hurling the glass of Scotch against the wall.