---##---¤¤---##---
Chapter 6. Reduced to Nothing
---##---¤¤---##---
Robert catches up with me right before I step in through the front doors of the building. He slams the door closed to the taxi, pays and yells my name. “Hey, where did you go?”
Catalina’s voice did calm me down the slightest bit, but she couldn’t speak for long, Bailey had some emergency he wanted her to help him with, so she hung up. Now I’m thinking about all the work I’m facing. I probably won’t even see her today.
The urge to punch Robert quickly settles once I’ve calmed down a bit. It usually does. “I told you I had to get back,” I grumble, not slowing down, not even turning to face him.
“Oh, come one! You had that MacCallister broad wrapped up to go! I don’t understand, what’s so difficult about trying to have a little fun from time to time?”
Fun, huh? He’s just waiting for me to make a mistake. To sleep with young MacCallister, so he can ‘accidentally’ mention it to my wife. That way he’d be the one getting all the important assignments, the acknowledgement and the fat pay-check. I’d still be VP, but I wouldn’t have anything but the title. So it wouldn’t change pretty much at all, then...
I shove the door open and walk over to the elevator. When I push the button, and nothing happens, I violently bang against it with my fist. “You’re really out to get me, aren’t you?” I snap at Robert.
“No, I’m not. I just think you’re acting a bit juvenile right now. Leave the button alone,” he sneers. “I still don’t understand why they’d hire a college kid like you. You have a really bad temper, like all young...”
“I’m perfectly well aware of the fact that I’m young, but may I remind you that I’m not just here to drain the company of money. I actually make a difference, and I do have responsibilities that I know how to take care of,” I interrupt him, feeling the panic grow. “And it’s not fair of you to judge me because of my age. And it’s really not fair that you try to allure me into doing things you damn well know I don’t want to be a part of.”
The elevator doors open up, so we both get in. “If you want life to be fair, you’ve definitely stumbled upon the wrong company,” Robert points out, still grinning. “And since when am I alluring you into anything? You’re a grown-up, you know right from wrong.”
“Cathy MacCallister is not what I would call a right thing...” I begin.
“But who asked you to stay?”
I swallow hard. “Don’t you ever feel guilty?” I have to ask.
“About what?” he snorts. Maybe guilt isn’t part of his vocabulary?
“You have a wife,” I say, and finally Robert’s face fall. “Two children. Don’t you ever feel bad when you’re deceiving Megan like that?”
“What can I say? Sometimes you just have to live,” he mutters. “Unlike punks like you, who slips in on your father’s behalf, not even suitable to handle these kinds of situations.”
“At least I have some respect for myself. And for my wife and family. I might be young and inexperienced when it comes to this company, even though I grew up with it, but at least I’m not about to throw my life away because of some temporary liaison with someone reminding highly of a prostitute.”
Robert Clairmont shrugs, back to his old self again. “I’ve met your wife. She’s adorable. She’s just not high-class material. She wouldn’t last a day in the higher parts of society.”
He was probably trying to insult me, but he’s right. I’m glad she’s nothing like those horrible creatures, who call themselves classy. My mother is one. God, I’m glad my wife is the complete opposite to them. “Lucky me. Maybe she won’t cheat on me, then,” I say, knowing that my comeback could come off as a bit... Childish.
“Let’s go out for a drink after work,” Robert suggests, sucking up like always.
“I can’t,” I reply, wishing the elevator would move faster.
“You can have your precious glass of water,” he snorts back. “What’s with you and alcohol anyway? You can’t be that big of a goody-goody, can you?”
I finally can’t take it anymore. “If you must know, I’m married to Catalina because I truly love her.” Robert snorts again. “And I don’t drink alcohol because I’m an alcoholic. If I would’ve taken one sip of that vodka earlier, I probably would’ve hit rock bottom instantly.”
Gale looks up when I come bursting through the hallway. She gets up from her chair. “Sir!”
“What is it?” I roar back. “Did my wife call?”
“No. You said to be back in forty minutes. That was almost two hours ago,” Gale begins. “You have a visitor.”
“Tell them to get the hell out. I’m not in the mood. Better yet, tell the front desk that I’m sick. I’m going home,” I announce, turning around again. Gale almost leaps over the desk, grabbing my arm.
“It’s your father. He’s in your office right now.” Fuck. No, this can’t be happening. “I tried to tell him to come back later, but he insisted...”
“Thank you, Ms. Flynn. You can go back to work now,” I sigh, shrugging her off. She nods and sinks down on her chair again. I know for a fact that no one at this company has the guts to stand up against my Dad. Not even the most loyal secretary in the world.
My father is standing by the window when I enter the room. “There you are,” he greets. “What’s with the long lunch?”
“I was caught up with...”
“I called the bank earlier, and they said that you’d been nowhere near their office for weeks. I’d like to have an explanation to why you were late this morning. I called you, but you refused to answer.”
I close my eyes. I always feel like I’m still ten years old whenever I stand in front of him like this. “My car was...”
“Don’t lie to me,” my father hollers, turning around. Sometimes I can’t stand to look at him, knowing that I’ll probably look just like him when I get older. And that Bailey will grow up to be me. It’s an evil circle.
“I was home with my wife,” I explain. “Bailey...”
Once again, he interrupts me. “This is an important project, Fredrik. I don’t want to regret handing it to you.” He picks up one of the folders. “Although I see that you’ve screwed it up, as expected. Can’t I trust you with anything?”
Why am I always so useless in my father’s eyes? He has never been proud of anything I’ve achieved in my life. My wife is from the wrong crowd. My son is a mistake. My job is a failure. My studies are a laughter. I’ve never heard him say that he’s proud of me, or that he loves me. Which reminds me over and over again that I have to tell Bailey that, as often as I can.
Much have I put up with throughout the years, from all sorts of directions. My parents stooped the lowest they could get when they urged my wife to do an abortion, just so my life could be spotless. My mother exploded in my face when she found out that I’d married Catalina. My Dad just refused to talk to me for months.
She’s from a working class family. That’s a mortal sin in my parents’ opinion. Her Mom is unemployed and her Dad sells insurance for a small company, which my father happens to own. Without his knowledge; he owns a lot of crap he’s not aware of.
Bailey is accepted, but only barely. Once he was born, they had to come to grip with who he is. He’s the first heir after me, and my mother tries to get me to bring him up that way. With lectures and guidelines on how to act among the rich crowd. Catalina is useless to them. Their hope lies in Bailey. I loathe them, with all of my heart.
“Yes, you can. I’m almost done.”
“The hell you are,” he spits in my face. “You’re not even halfway. I don’t want you running at home when you are responsible for something this important. You can choose; your wife, or your job.”
“My wife is important,” I snap. Now we’re back to being father and son. I’m being rebellious, and he’s being a prick. “I’m not ignoring her just because of this fucking project.”
Now I’m definitely screwed. You don’t raise your voice, that’s rule number one. And if you raise your voice, don’t swear. That’s rule number two. I just broke both rules at once.
“You knew what you were getting yourself into the minute you accepted my offer to work here,” he bellows.
“I also told you that I wouldn’t put up with any dirty games,” I say.
“You always have to make me regret everything I do for you,” my father continues, throwing his fist into my desk. When has he ever done anything for me? Maybe he’s referring to that therapist he provided with after he had to do something about my drinking problems?
“I’m useless,” I agree. “Fire me.”
“This project shall lie on my desk by Sunday. I don’t care if you have to neglect your wife, she’ll survive. People like her always end up on the right side.”
My bad temper makes it impossible to keep this conversation under control. “She’s my wife! Don’t you attack her like that, expecting me not to take her side. Just because you happened to marry a cheating slut, doesn’t mean Catalina’s like that!” Of all the things I’ve inherited from my father, there are three main things. My alcohol problem, my appearance and my violent temper.
Whenever I speak up to him, he’s always trying to knock me back down. He still treats me like a child, and the strange thing is that I always let him get away with it. This time is not an exception. As always when I’m being disobedient and just generally impossible, he slaps me right across the face. Must’ve been that last comment that threw him off.
I never hit back when he’s being like that. I won’t sink to his level. I grew up, thinking that I deserved this, but now I know better. If I punch back, he’ll win. That would prove to him that he knows how to get to me.
I can’t remember what I said the following moments after that. When I get angry enough, I can’t keep track of my actions. I just know that I’ve said something more that makes him punch me again. Maybe I elaborated on the whole ‘your wife’s a slut’ subject?
“I want you in Seattle by tonight,” he hisses at me. I sink down on the floor, looking for my Prozac, or just something to chew on. “The plane leaves at 6.30. If you’re not on it, I’ll make sure you won’t see your wife for weeks. Get off the folders; I’ll leave them to Miller’s guy.”
My hand is still shaking when I hand the folder over to my Dad. He shakes his head at me, giving me that look that tells me just how pathetic I really am. “I can’t go,” I mumble, still clutching on to my desk to keep from falling apart completely.
“It’s one week. You’re going, Fredrik. Don’t make me remind you that your family relies on you. How are you going to be able to support them if I fire you? Go to Seattle, attend on that Belmont-meeting and when you come back, don’t screw up anymore projects. You’re bleeding on the carpet, get up from the floor.”
His voice has this heartless tone, like it’s normal to beat up your own son like this. I’m 22, and I’m still letting him get away with this. A part of me probably does it so he won’t go after Catalina. Or even worse, Bailey. It’s not very heroic, but it’s better then being a complete wimp. Someday I’ll show him.
Gale sneaks into my office when my father has left. She hands me a fresh bottle of water and some aspirin. “Do you want me to call for a cab?” she wonders, used to finding me like this whenever I’ve met my father. I crawl up from the floor, refusing to let anyone else see me like this. Oh, I bet Clairmont would pay good money for catching me in a similar situation.
“No,” I sigh loudly. “I’ll take the car. Cancel next weeks appointments, will you? I have to go to Seattle.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t go, chances are big that Catalina will suffer for it. You can just take next week off,” I say, rubbing my eyes.
Gale looks excited, but tries to hide it. “Really, are you sure? You won’t need me?”
I force a smile upon my face. “Nah, you can go and plan that wedding of yours. I’ll be fine.”
The thought hits me when I’m walking to my car. Why me? What have I done to deserve all this?
My mood is at an all time low point when I finally drive out on the street. The tiniest adversity that comes my way will probably make me explode. It’s risky to go home, feeling like this, but I have to.
A whole week. Couldn’t he just have shot me?