He wiped his mouth with the paper napkin delicately. He raised a brow in dull amusement as he watched Theodore pick at his food.
"Not hungry?" For once?
Theodore shook his head, slicing through the fine roasted meat of his Steak Deburgo. "No, it's just very...rich."
"That's the entire point, my boy."
Theodore choked down another bite, tongue writhing across his fork's gilded points in a way that made his skin crawl before coughing and speaking again."It just feels like too much."
At that, Kaiser smiled. "There is no such thing." Theodore went quiet at that.
Max took a few bites extra bites of his own meal in Theodore's latest bout of sullen silence, making sure to take it slow and enjoy the flavor, as he watched Theodore wolf down his food.
His father would have slapped his hands atop Theodore's until his knuckles were bloody and he slowed it down enough for his taste.
Max let him be. He'll learn in his own time.
Heavy-handedness had no place in a proper father-son relationship. Allfather had proven that. Theodore would in time, naturally gravitate toward the proper way of doing things. In decorum, in attitude, and in actions.
Max cleared his throat, swallowing down his last bit of steak as his son finished his second plate. "How's school?"
Theodore quirked a brow, speaking with his mouth full. "You already asked me that today, sir."
"And I'll keep asking until I get a satisfactory answer."
"I told you, it's been fine."
Kaiser chortled, resting his head upon his palm as he leaned forward over his plate and across the table, raising his voice so it rested just upon the cusp of acceptable in a public ceremony. "What is a 'fine' school day, hmm? What's a 'fine' week, a 'fine' class? Is it you scraping by, getting C's and D's and not talking to anyone, not networking, not studying? Is it you having the time of your life in your prime, your youngest and best years before responsibility comes knocking on your door, partying and shooting up drugs? Is it A's and B's and future scholarships and a brand new girlfriend or part-time job? Fine can mean anything because it means nothing without detail. Detail is what I want. Detail is what I have a vested interest in."
Theodore glanced toward the side, towards the exit, as if on instinct, on reflex, not rising to combat his challenge.
Don't be pathetic, boy. Look me in the eye, even if just to tell me to leave it be. Don't let me control the conversation. Stand your ground.
Theodore sighed, and Max felt almost disappointed by it. "School's been kinda boring. It's easy."
"Easy?" He echoed.
"Easy. I got three A's in a row on my latest Math and English tests. I've got B's and C's everywhere else but Gym."
Kaiser fought back the urge to scoff, and Max leaned backward with a small smile. "I'm happy to hear it's going so well then. But I notice you didn't address a few other things."
"Like what?"
Max's grin pulled a touch wider. "Any favorite drug of choice or special lady friends I should get to know?"
Theodore choked a moment upon the Pepsi he had ordered. Max took a moment to sip upon his own Martini.
"No, I don't..do any of that. No one else does either."
Max leveled a fork at his son playfully. "That you know of."
"Are you expecting me to believe you encountered it at whatever Private school you went to?"
"I didn't see or do a single drug in my lifetime up till I went to that community college up in Nebraska."
Theodore boggled at him like he'd said something interesting for the first time in the fifteen years they had known each other. " 'Did' Any drugs till college?"
"You can't have thought your old man had been this boring his entire life, had you?"
"Did you..party?"
Max hummed. "Not like you're thinking off. I had an affinity for 'pot', as the fellows your age call it."
Theodore looked him upon and down. "I just can't see it."
"Neither could anyone else. That was the entire point. It was part of my last little gasp of teenage rebellion, as was my choice of college itself. My last middle finger toward my father."
Dirt cheap. In a suburb filled with and surrounded by the poor and the 'youth', as the news media would have so politely put it. As simple a 'fuck you' as you could come up with, directed at his father. Said father had surprised him with a visit one day with his sister, freshly triggered. He'd been caught with four ounces. His sister had held him down as his father rolled it up into a series of joints, lit them up, and put them out across his back.
He'd packed his things the week after and transferred to a private school his father had picked out for him. He'd never touched a doobie again.
Theodore looked at him strangely. "You've never told me much my Grandad."
"That's because he's been dead almost thirteen years and you were too young to remember him by the time he died. I didn't and still don't see the point in describing him to you."
Theodore nodded his head. Their dinner lapsed into silence again before Theo made his own attempt at breaking the ice.
"How is..your..thing.."
His thing. The elephant that followed them into every room they went that demanded their attention.
Kaiser smiled at him. "You don't need to worry about that yet. It's going as smooth as ever since I took charge."
Theodore shifted uncomfortably.
He relished it.
(X)
The Boardwalk called to him. It had been two Saturdays since he had last come by. Two Saturdays with Theo.
Once more, in the private confines of his own mind, he relished in that judge's 'sudden' death.
To take my child away from me, because of one indiscretion, and give her to the woman who could barely string together one commission a month as an interior decorator, a woman who could only now thrive thanks to his money?
Ludicrous.
The calm sea breeze soothed his nerves. Centered his mind. He went over his mental checklist for the night, glancing at his watch.
Shareholder meeting at 8:00, thirty-nine minutes, eighteen seconds. Champagne with Nessa & Jessica at 9:45, at their apartment. Biweekly contact with Gesellschaft, 11:00.
Much to do. Business and pleasure.
A familiar pitter-patter sound reacher his ears. He blinked in recognition, turned around, saw the girl, Taylor.
She was leaning against the same railing again. When he looked down, he saw a small fanny pack attached to her waist, a half-empty water bottle poking forth.
He smiled despite himself. "You've kept at it?"
Taylor whirled around and gasped, a hand at her back, grabbing onto something he could only see a vague outline of. A spray can?
She sagged in relief when she recognized him. "Oh, it's you. You scared me..?"
She trailed off and he recognized the opening for what it was. "Max."
"Max?"
He hummed, eyes narrowing slightly. He watched her face carefully. "Max Anders."
There was no recognition, no confusion, no nothing. He was as much of a stranger to her as she was to him.
It was...strange.
He wished for more of it. The girl smiled at him in return as if reading his mind. "I'm Taylor. Taylor Hebert."
He mentally shelved his interpretation of her ancestry. Not Jewish. French ancestry was something he would not have pegged her as having.
His Empire would have never guessed. Her nose and 'Hebert' would have been enough.
What region, he wondered, did her ancestors migrate from? Champagne, Lorraine, Franche-Comté?
The name intrigued him. Hebert. Composed of Germanic elements, Hari, Army. Berth, bright or famous.
It seemed fitting.
The girl coughed, staring at him strangely. He realized her hand was extended a few inches ahead of her waist, downcast, fallen from the position of a handshake.
He blinked. "I apologize, It's been a long day." He had spaced off. That was disconerting.
Almost uncomfortable. The girl had an odd effect on him.
He looked down upon her. She seemed so unremarkable. How could she bother him so?
This would need to be found out.
For now, he would indulge her.
She laughed softly. "I get it. School was hard today too. I couldn't focus much."
Her eyes were downcast.
He was curious. "How come?'
Taylor pursed her lips. He gave her a fatherly smile. "I don't mean to impinge on your boundaries. I'm just curious. I won't throw you any pity parties, if that's what you're worried about."
The girl laughed again at that. He made a mental note of it. Not fond of pity. Guard is down when treated like an adult, with respect due to fellows above her age.
He glanced around, made another note that she had traveled alone. Disappointing.
Her father had not joined her.
"There's this girl.."
Max raised a single, slow-rising brow. A sapphic?
She must have been the look on his face. "Oh, no, she's just a friend of mine. We've been kinda distant lately. She's been cold to me, almost. I don't know why."
He did not care one whit what the nature of their relationship was. The concept of love was unfamiliar to him. The concept of attraction was not.
Whether that attraction ran in one direction or another mattered to him little.
He crossed his arms, mimicking her lazy lean across the railing. "Did something happen?"
Taylor shook her head. "No. I just don't get it. We had so much fun together at camp, and four weeks into the school year later it's like she doesn't recognize me in the hallway."
He hummed. "Camp?"
"Summer camp, in the backwoods a few hours outside the city. We went swimming, rock climbing, running, and played games. It was so much fun."
She smiled, trailing off, lost in the memories.
Inwardly, he frowned. The girl had potential. Why waste a moment thinking about former 'friends' she'll never keep in contact with as soon as she graduates when she could be working, studying, and preparing.
It was at that moment he understood what struck him so.
She was everything he wished his son was.
He scanned her figure once more. He figured any woman with a pulse would be his son's type, but she had her own unique charm, despite her plainness. No doubt she would blossom into a fine young woman.
In the back of his mind, he was already planning their first meeting.
"Has she been hanging out with anyone else, a fellow student?"
Taylor's eyes narrowed. "Actually, yeah. There's this other girl, Sophia, I think her name was. She's a popular girl. You know the type."
He did. He really did.
"And?"
"She runs track. I think Emma's joined her."
"Emma is your friend's name?"
"Wha-oh, yeah. Emma Barnes. We've known each other since we were little."
He clicked his tongue. Barnes, Barnes, Barnes. Why did he know that name?
"Is that why you started exercising? To try and catch her attention?" How Juvenile and asinine.
Taylor's blush was answer enough.
He sighed. "I am not familiar with the unspoken social contract all teenage girls seem to follow, so my advice may seem rather brute-ish: Confront her."
"Confront?"
He nodded. "Talk to her at lunch. In the hall. At her home. Corner her if you must. Find out why it seems like ten or more or less years of friendship seems to be slipping away. And if you're looking for more opportunities to try and speak to her otherwise without risking a direction confrontation, might I suggest joining that same track team?"
"I've never run track. Hell, I can barely jog three miles. I don't think I could do it."
Max looked down at his watch.
Then he shrugged off his jacket, carefully folding it across the railing.
"Well, I've got the time to kill. Why don't I teach you to?"