Banksters 49: Succeed

The office was feeling decimated. Julee cleaned out her desk on her way out earlier- she wasn't coming back. George didn’t show up, despite reclaiming his old office the day before, though I’d heard him on the radio this morning categorically denying his relationship with a hooker. Which was stupid, on its face. He’d been seeing Caprica for weeks, taking her out in public, to events. It wasn’t even a lie he could hope to hide behind.

But it also made things easier on me. I’d scheduled a meeting with George and Richard’s twins, to see if we couldn’t, with cooler heads, come to some sort of an agreement. It wasn’t until the end of the day, really, after the end of the day, starting at 6 pm.

George didn’t show, but by then I expected that. And if I knew Caprica, she already had most of her memoirs written out, and would have them out on Kindle before morning.

But I wondered if the twins wouldn’t make it, either. They turned up ten minutes late, though whether that was from a lack of paternal upbringing or from a newfound sense of entitlement I couldn’t really say. Not that I’d ever worried.  

For the first time I get a real good look at the twins. Blonde-haired, I presume like their mother, since they didn’t get it from the Morgan side. Young, late teens, maybe early twenties. Their uncle had dragged them into this to back his play, but they were only just acclimating to their $1000 dollar suits and $500 dollar haircuts. They weren’t prepared for the world he’d abandoned them in to tend to his own burning homestead.

“I’m not sure we should even be here,” Dylan said. I only knew that because Dylan was the assertive one. Ryan hardly ever spoke at all, to anyone, except his brother.

“I know what you think. What your uncle said. About me. And I assume about your father. And, look, boys, I know he's your uncle, but he's made some bad decisions in his life. Your father, what they're saying about him in the papers, it isn't true. All he was trying to do was build a company, to support his family and the people he cared about.”

“But George was always a jealous kind of man. He wanted what your brother had, to the point of nearly destroying the company. And when he couldn't have it, he went about destroying other aspects of his life. It’s sad, really, how much of his life he dedicated to ruining other people, but I think his recent behavior, and the fact that he’s finally getting called out on it, means he’s not going to be in a position to hurt anyone anymore.”  

“But what I'm saying, here, is you boys are going to be fixtures at this company. And your family has two legacies: one of personal sacrifice and loyalty, and one of greed and wanton destructiveness. And I hope you two choose your legacy carefully. I know what George brought you here to do, but I also know what your father would have wanted for you.”

“What do you know about our father?” Ryan asks. He’s got tears in his eyes. It’s hard to know, from the research, exactly how much Richard knew about them. He was certainly paying their mother to keep something hushed up. But that didn’t tell much of a story.

“I worked with him, albeit briefly. And I respected him, for who he was at work. It’s kind of hard to square that person I knew with someone who wouldn’t even know his kids. But I guess the best answer to that is that we’re all of us complicated creatures. Any time you think you’ve pegged people simply, you’re wrong; he had reasons that made sense to him, is about all I can suppose. But in the time I’ve worked for this company, I’ve never seen him want anything but for those around him to succeed.”

“But I didn’t want to meet you here to ask you to turn against your family. Family’s important. I just wanted to spend some time with you boys, talk about the business, and where you see it going now that a new generation of Morgans are taking an active role in the company. But I suppose, then, the operative question becomes: you boys old enough to drink?”

They were, if only just. I took them to a club I knew, one with a healthy supply of young women that didn't water down the drinks too much. The twins were young, inexperienced, possibly virgins, even, so they followed my lead. I got us seats a little back from the stage.

Grey met us there, dressed less provocatively than the strippers, but more than the girls taking drink orders. The way she worked the twins they probably assumed she worked there. She bought each of them a lap dance and she was in, and we moved things into the VIP room.

She spent the first girl's set on Dylan's lap, with her hand in one of his pants pockets. She spent the second girl's set on Ryan's lap, and I'm not entirely sure he didn't blow in his pants. By the third girl our drinks were almost dry. “I'll get the next round,” she said, standing up as the third girl left. The twins asked for mudslides. I told her to surprise me.

And the moment she was through the curtains that separated the lounge I told him, “I know the girl. She likes it rough.”

“Hairpulling and shit?”

“I don’t think you understand. She likes to be choked. Smacked around. If she’s not bleeding, she’s not wet.”

“I can’t hit a woman,” Ryan said.

“That’s awfully sexist. Would you hit me?” I set down my drink on the table and started to undo my tie. “I want you to hit me.”

“What, so this is Fight Club all of a sudden?”

“Hit me. Come on. Your uncle thinks I killed your father, and whatever rage you may have felt for the man, at a minimum, if George were right, I robbed you of being able to confront him. You've been living with that idea for at least a few days; I’m sure a couple of rounds and a couple of lap dances don’t erase all of that suspicion, so I’m sure there’s some part of you who’d like to take a swing at me. Go on. Free shot.”

“Truth be told, I been wanting to hit that fucking chin since we first walked into that board room.”

“Here’s your shot.” He did. And it wasn’t a bad punch.

“Fuck. Fucking chin’s harder than it looks,” he said, shaking his hand. He helped pick me up off the floor. I used my drink to ice my face. Ryan picked up his, now just ice, and put it on his hand.

“Not so bad, right? And kind of exciting.”

“Whoa, now, we’re not part of some boy fetish you have, are we?”

“What? No. I’m saying hitting somebody, the force, the feeling of putting that much power into dominating another human being. It gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

“Little, maybe.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I’m with you, really. I can understand the appeal, but it’s also not really my cup of tea. But for her-” I gestured towards curtains, draping suggestively like a female genitalia, “she comes like a fucking banshee if you smack her around a little. And trust me, when someone’s that turned on, there’s no fucking comparison.” I reached into my coat pocket. “But I’m not asking you to go in their without a little extra courage.”

“I thought she was getting our courage.”

“Hard liquor? What are you, field hands? You’re Morgans, now, kings of business. And these are your spoils.” I tapped a little cocaine out onto the table, avoiding the moist rings from our glasses. Then I spread the pile out into three lines, and rolled up a hundred dollar bill and did mine. Then I passed the bill to Ryan.  

He looked up to his brother, then snorted his line. Dylan didn't hesitate, but by then the peer pressure was awfully thick.

The bouncer poked his in. “You gentlemen ready for the next girl?” he asked.

I handed him a benjamin. “Think we'll take a fifteen.”

“S'cool, so long as no one else wants the room,” he said.

Grey came back a minute later; she must have waited tables, at some point, since she carried our four drinks with ease. I took my drink over into the corner, and pretended to pass out.

Grey went to work. I kept my eyes shut- to avoid being noticed, I told myself, not because I was jealous. I heard her unzip their pants, then the rustle of clothes, the friction of flesh. Then there were little masculine gasps and moans.  

From the way Grey gave direction, it sounded like Dylan had taken to rough sex easily. “Choke me harder,” was about the extent of her criticism.

I wondered if maybe I'd given him too much courage when he told her, “I want your ass.”

“Slow down, tiger,” she said. “Give little brother a turn.”

Ryan required more... specific instruction. “If you want inside me you'd better show me you're enough of a man.” I could hear Ryan swallow from across the room. “Hit me, you bitch, or I'm going to tear your fucking balls off.”

There was the sound of fist on flesh, then sound of flesh against flesh as he entered her, and Grey came immediately and loudly, and from experience, I'd say it wasn't all just for show.

There was more, after that. But that was the tipping point, when the sounds of pleasure started to be eclipsed by an undertone of pain, woven in so delicately, and so expertly, that if you weren't listening objectively, you would never notice the change. By the end, she was practically pleading with them to stop, but they were in so deep they couldn't see it for what it was.