Chapter 4
In 1917, nine-year-old Joel Elijah Dexter discovered the murdered body of his mother, Marie Dexter. The little boy sat with her bloody and battered corpse for days, couldn't stand the thought of leaving her alone. Eventually, a neighbour noticed their absence around town and went knocking at their door.
With no living family members on his mother's side, his stepfather missing – suspected of the murder of Marie – and the identity of his biological father unknown, Joel became a ward of the state. Being relatively young still, Joel's caseworker made several attempts to place him with a family, but the longest he stayed in any one place was three months.
They all said the same things. He was too damaged, too detached, compassionless and impulsive, showing no remorse for his actions, they couldn't risk have him around their other children. They didn't want him.
After three years, then aged twelve, it was decided that Joel was unsuitable and no longer eligible for foster care or adoption. He was to reside in a long-term care home for adolescent boys located on a farm just outside of the city, until the time he became of age.
The group home mostly consisted of older teenaged boy, making Joel the smallest, weakest and most vulnerable of the bunch. On his third night in the boys home – after having his food taken, blanket stolen, shoes filled with dog poo - Joel was sent to the hospital for injuries sustained during a fight, which broke out after another boy called him a bastard and the son of a tart. In that moment Joel knew he could no longer let himself be seen as a victim, not again, because if he had stood up for himself, for his mother, then maybe she would still be alive.
Joel's wounds were all superficial and he was able to return to the house after one night, the other boy however, suffered two broken ribs and required stitches just above his eye. The nurse had said he was lucky not to have lost his sight. There were no further problems after that, Joel had made it clear to the other boys that we wouldn't be their punching bag, that he wasn't someone to mess with, wasn't a victim anymore.
/
Joel didn't mind living in the house, nobody touched him inappropriately - because he had heard of such things - nobody burnt him with the butt of their cigarette, and nobody beat him with a leather belt.
After a few months Joel adjusted to the monotony of farm life. Up at the crack of dawn to do your chores, school, homework, dinner and then more chores before bed. They we're even given a small allowance for their efforts and allowed a few free hours at weekend for leisure time outside of the house. Life wasn't too bad, it was actually pretty good, but there was still something bothering him. Like an empty space in his very being and he didn't know what was missing – besides his mother obviously.
Every so often a boy's parents would come looking for their child or some distant relative would want a child. Seeing all these families being reunited ignited a feeling Joel couldn't quite place, it felt like that hole inside of him was widening slowly. Eroding.
On his thirteenth birthday, with no blood relations to celebrate with, Joel realised that hole was from a lack of identity. He was just another case-number, on a long list of numbers used to identify all the faceless, nameless, and unwanted children of Canada. Cutting into the birthday cake made by the house's cook, the same generic sponge she made for every other boy, eleven candles instead on thirteen, Joel made the decision then and there to find his father.
/
All Joel knew of his father was that he was an American, a man his mother had met in the time she spent in New York. Joel's mother had moved to the States with a friend when she was just seventeen, looking for a big break on the stage. Her story ended like that of so many other girls, in an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy. Still in her teens, with no money and no husband Marie travelled north to cross the boarder, returning home.
Mandy, the friend that his mother had moved to New York with had also returned to Canada, giving up on her dream of fame and fortune a few years later. The two women had remained close over the years and Joel knew Mandy was his only hope in finding his father. Knowing who Joel's father was Mandy implored the boy to stay away from the man, to let it go. However she had made a mistake, telling "Warren fox is only ever out for himself and has nothing to offer you". She had given him a name, vital information Joel had not perviously known.
Joel had always been stubborn and bullhead, and so despite Mandy's warnings and even an offer to take the boy in herself, Joel planned his escape form the farm. He needed to know where he came from and the possibility of being part of a family wasn't something he could just let go. Armed with a name and a general location, Joel packed up his few earthly belongings and travelled almost 500 miles from Toronto to New York.
/
"Joel? My office." Brendan demands, his irritation with the Canadian growing.
Brendan stands, waiting for the lad to pass him before following Joel into his office. Before walking through the door he turns to let Steven know they'll return in a moment, but the boy has that look on his face again. Mouth slightly open, eyes wide and unblinking, it must be the shock.
"Steven, have slice of Victoria sponge and another tea." Hopefully the sugar will help.
"What is going on with you?" Brendan asks once he and Joel are alone, door closed behind them.
"Do you really have to ask?"
"I'm not a mind reader and I don't have time for this. Busy day, so if that's it I'm going to get back to-"
"- Steven." The boy looks offend and hurt. "What is it about that boy? You have people scouring the city for some Brooklyn kid, for weeks. This young helpless kid with nothing and nobody, and here you are to help, offering him a job – story sound familiar?"
Brendan hadn't seen this coming, although maybe he should have, hide sight is twenty-twenty after all. There are so many similarities between himself and his young protégée. Losing their mother's at a young age, being discarded by their fathers for being illegitimate.
When he was younger Brendan felt rejected, that he was inferior and a burden to those around him. He had always feared that he'd be replaced - even after marriage and becoming a father - that his family would see the abomination he really was and leave. If Brendan were to be honest with himself, he'd admit that he still feels all these things, that he can in fact wholly empathise with Joel.
"Joel you have been with me for years, ever loyal, you think that I'd replace you? You think you are that easy to replace? You think that little of me? After everything we've been through."
"No, of course not."
"So you think that little of yourself?" The Irishman questions.
"You offered him my job, I can run rings around small fry out there." Joel points to the next room, voice raised slightly in aggression but hurt clear in his eyes.
"I thought you had more ambition than that? You plan on driving me around for the rest of your days? You obviously don't know your worth."
"I want to stand by your side." He tells the older man, voice strong, determined.
"And I want you by my side. Steven is here to free up your time for other actives, greater responsibilities."
"I feel like I was just promoted and instead of thanking you, I made wild accusations."
"There seems to be a lot of that going around today." Brendan can't help but wonder if there's a flaw in the way he delivers good news. "Lets get back out there."
/
"Steven, I assume you've had sufficient time to think over my offer."
"It's Ste." He corrects.
"Ste?"
"My name, everybody calls me Ste."
"That the name on your birth certificate?" Because honestly, Brendan cannot stand it when people shorten the names they were given at birth to something senseless. For instant William to Billy, it doesn't even make sense. Ste isn't even a name, it is a monosyllable sound. "That the name your parent's gave you?"
"Well no, but-" Steven begins to defend before being cut off.
"Then I'm going to continue to call you Steven, Steven." He tells the boy with a smile that is all teeth.
"Erm, right. Okay."
"And your decision?"
"Decision?"
"On the job, are you going to accept it."?
"Yes, of course. I mean I can't wait to tell my Amy and the kids, they ain't going to believe it. I'm not sure if I believe it. Thank you so much, I mean really." Brendan doesn't normally allow or entertain over excited babbling, but Brendan indulges the boy. Just this once, because it's nice to see a person truly appreciate an opportunity, wanting to provide for his family. "Thank you for this chance, Mr Brady." Steven says earnestly, one finial nervous smile crossing his lips.
"Not a problem. Now, tomorrow will be your first official-"
"What abo-" Steven stops, mouth open still wide open in an 'O' shape, realising he has interrupted Brendan. There's a moment of tension, Brendan brow raised, looking questioningly at Steven because he is not used to people cutting him off. "What about my license? You said I couldn't drive without it." Steven continues, probably deciding it was better to just keep talking.
"That shouldn't take too long to have organised. Your second role is to act as my assistant, you shall provide me with anything I may want or need. This includes but is not limited to answering my telephone calls, arranging dinner reservations and keeping track of my correspondences."
"Coras- correspondences?" Steven questions.
"Yes, communication with my associates through the exchange of letters."
At that the boy looks rather panicked.
"Joel will instruct you on how to carry you're your tasks and how to behave in different situations." He says for reassurance, but this only seems to make the boy more alarmed. "It's all very simple, I assure you."
Brendan's not sure when it happened, but Joel has moved from the armchair he normally sits in to the sofa that Steve has been occupying, not an inch of air between the two boys. He is sat with his right ankle crossed over left knee, arm stretched out across the back of the sofa and is leaning over into the other boy's personal space, lips almost touching Steven's ear as he speaks.
"As Brendan's, Mr Brady's assistants you will see things, hear things-" At this point he cups Steven's face, squeezing with force as he turns Steven so that they are making eye contact. "-and so discretion is of up most importance. If you can't be trusted I'll have to put you down." Joel tell the Steven matter of factly. "You understand?" He does't wait for an answer, just uses the firm vice he has on Steven's face to stimulate a nodding motion.
Brendan doesn't necessarily think this performance is needed – Steven's father was a noble and trustworthy man and so Brendan is willing to give Steven the befit of the doubt. But Joel did learn the overdramatic, menacing madman routine from Brendan, he can't hold it against the boy. And so when Steven turns his head as much as Joel will allow, looking at Brendan for help or intervention the man doesn't react.
After staring into Steven's wide and frightened eyes Joel seems to be satisfied and lets go, smiling and saying "good", before preparing his own cup of tea. Brendan has gotten used to Joel's quirks over the years, to his more eccentric traits. But Steven is watching the Canadian, absentmindedly enjoying what must now be a lukewarm tea, like Joel has lost his mind. The majority of the time Joel came off as more than a little unstable, but he is going to be Brendan's second for a reasons - as soon as Brendan figured out how to remove Trevor Royle from the situation - the boy knows what he is doing, always got results.
"Well, I think that covers everything." Brendan says cheerfully, rising from his seat. "Steven, we shall see you bright and early tomorrow."
/
Not the best end but I've had this written for days and didn't know how to end it so I've given up and just posted it.
Joel in this story is a little different to canon Joel, still looking for a father figure but he's actually a decent criminal. He's also slightly insane, you will find out more about that when I write more of his back story, and what happens when he meets Warren.