Lords of Corruption (5 page)

"Tall? That's all you have to say? It was tall? What did you do? What did you see? Did you go to MoMA?"

She grimaced. "What about the Statue of
Liberty? Did you know the French gave us that?"

"No and no."

"Did you see a play before you left?" "Uh-uh."

"Geez, Josh. All that education and still a Philistine."

"Philistine? Jesus Christ, Laura, act your age. Use 'like' every other word. Talk about how lame your boyfriend is. You're creeping me out."

That actually made her laugh. It was a sound that hadn't really changed much since she was a baby, a rare and muffled gurgle that came mostly through her nose. It wasn't that she didn't have a cheerful soul. She was just discerning about what she thought was funny.

"What about you, kid? How are things going with you? I see the phone's out again."

"It'll be reconnected next week. We were just a little late. Things are okay. Nothing much changes, you know?"

He'd learned long ago that whenever she used the phrase "you know," she meant the opposite of whatever statement preceded it. Bad news would eventually follow.

"You're still doing okay in school?" he probed. "Valedictorian, right? Scholarship material?"

"What scholarship? You're going to be rich, right?"

"Don't evade the question."

"It's still between me and Erica Pratt."

He forced himself to shrug casually, though his stomach had cinched down a few notches. "Hey, no pressure. That girl's folks are richer than God, and she's two years older than you."

"It's not the two years, it's the rich part that's the problem. Her 'tutor,' " she said, making quotation marks with her fingers, "does all her homework and papers, and she cheats on the tests. Word is that her dad's car dealership isn't doing so hot, though. So I'm hoping he's gonna have to start hiring dumber tutors."

"Are you still working?"

"At the grocery store. They're nice."

The trailer that was his ancestral home became visible through the trees, and he slowed a bit, concerned that he still hadn't been able to ferret out what she wasn't telling him. Oh, God. She couldn't be pregnant, could she?

The tightness in his stomach suddenly started to feel like an ulcer in the making, and he silently repeated to himself that Laura was a smart girl with a historical distaste for the boys she went to high schoo
l w
ith. How fast did things like that change? Hormones were powerful and unpredictable things.

He pointed numbly to the empty clearing where the car was usually parked. "Where's the Granada?" he said, trying to force out the doomsday scenarios bouncing around in his head with something more mundane.

She didn't answer immediately. "Now, don't get mad . . ."

He let out a long breath, feeling the tension leave his body. She wasn't pregnant. She'd just wrecked the car. "What happened, Laura?"

He'd barely spoken when the sound of an engine became audible behind them. He turned, seeing the worried expression on his sister's face and then the patchwork paint as the old Ford crested the hill fifty yards away.

"Fawn borrowed it," Laura said hesitantly.

He stared as the car approached too fast for the rusting suspension and then rocketed past them, its driver intent on whatever she was saying into her cell phone.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. . . ."

"Josh --" Laura started but fell silen
t w
hen he whipped back around to face her. "I begged my boss on my hands and knee
s f
or that car and then didn't sleep for a wee
k f
ixing it up. For what? So Fawn would have something to drive around in?"

"It sounds so bad when you say it like that."

"Don't sass me, Laura. This is why I had to hitchhike from the airport?"

"I said I was sorry."

"How much?"

"What?" she said gazing at the ground. "You know damn well what. How muc
h m
oney has she gotten out of Mom?" "Not that much."

"I want that thieving bitch out of here, Laura."

"I know, but Mom won't --"

She fell silent again when Josh turned and stalked off.

"Fawn! What the hell are you doing here?"

She stepped from the car, attempted a disinterested hair flip only to be thwarted by too much hairspray, and then ducked into the backseat to retrieve a box.

Fawn Mardsen was the daughter of their second stepfather. Not actually a blood relation but often mistaken for one because of her superficial resemblance to Laura. Though a few years older, she was the same height, had the same thin, slightly sickly physique, and wore her hair dyed to approximately Laura's natural shade. Her pal
e s
kin wasn't genetic like Laura's either, but a symptom of her aversion to the outdoors and anything resembling an honest day's work.

She hefted the box and turned confidently but hesitated when she was forced to look into Josh's face. "Hey, I didn't see you back there on the road. Congratulations on graduating -- that must be a weight off, huh?"

He remained silent.

"Sorry about not coming and getting you at the airport, but you know, I've been super busy."

"Really?" he said. "Doing what exactly? Do you have a job?"

"Yes," she snapped back, "I have a good job."

"Fawn's starting a business," Laura said, subtly taking a position between them.

"Yeah, and it's going really well," Fawn said. "Actually, it might be an opportunity you'd be interested in. Your mom's getting in on the ground floor. It's a smart move."

"A smart move? What happened to the money Mom put into your last business, Fawn? What was that one again? Something about online pet grooming?"

When it became obvious that he wasn't going to step out of her way, Fawn set th
e b
ox down and lit a cigarette. She took a long drag on it before she spoke again. "Yeah, and what are you doing? Other than sitting around in a classroom that costs a hundred grand a year --"

Josh's eyes widened, and Laura grabbed his hand. "Josh, she didn't mean --"

"Who provided the car you drive around in, Fawn? You? Or was it me?" He thumbed behind him at the broken-down trailer. "Who keeps the heat on in there? Oh, yeah. It's me. What exactly do you contribute?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Josh? Mr. I'm-better-than-everybody-elsebecause-I-went-to-college. You're never here. You haven't been for years."

"Get out, Fawn. I don't want to see you around here anymore."

She just laughed and threw her cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with what looked like a fairly expensive shoe. "What are you going to do, Josh? You may pay the bills, but this is still your mom's place. And let me tell you something, you're out of here before I am. You just don't treat that woman right. And I do."

She picked up her box and brushed past him, pushing through the door and calling out for his mother. "Momma? How you doin' today? All right?"

Josh took a few deep breaths and tried not to grind his teeth. The one dentist he'd seen in the last six years had told him he wouldn't have any teeth left when he was forty if he kept it up.

"Josh," Laura started, "you've got to

He held a hand up, once again silencing her.

The thing that really pissed him off was that Fawn wasn't completely wrong. She gave his mother exactly what she neede
d a
loser to take care of. His mother wanted more than anything to feel needed, and her curse was that both he and Laura could make it better on their own.

"None of the money you're making at the store is going to her, right, Laura?"

"Come on. I'm not stupid."

The first time Fawn had shown up on their doorstep, Josh had been sympathetic. Her father was a world-class son of a bitch, and she'd obviously needed help. She stayed with them for a few months, contributing nothing, expecting him and Laura to wait on her hand and foot, and then one day disappeared at the same time as a piece of jewelry their grandmother had left the
m p
robably the only valuable thing the family had ever owned. And now she returned at least once a year, broke and sniffing aroun
d f
or what she could get.

He climbed the cracked wooden stairs and yanked the screen door open, ignoring Fawn as he pushed past her and headed to the bedroom at the back.

He found his mother on her bed, wearing a robe that over the years had faded to the same color as the sheets. The ashtray next to her was full, and there were two empty beer cans on the floor.

"Mom?"

She just lay there, eyes closed and an arm hanging off the bed. Her nails were yellow and un-cared-for, some broken off close to the skin, others curling like claws.

Josh backed away and fell into a chair, watching her chest move subtly up and down. She looked like she had lost weight, and it caused the wrinkles in her face to deepen to the point that they were beginning to look like gouges.

They'd never had much, but you didn't really need all that much to be happy. To be a family. Poverty couldn't be blamed for what had happened to them. It was hundreds of little bad decisions that had added up to this disaster. And that was the problem. It made it too easy to dwell on "what if" scenarios. What if she hadn't been an alcoholic? What if his dad had hung around?

But he hadn't. And in his place, Josh had suffered through a procession of useless stepfathers. The last -- number four -- still stared at him from a crooked frame on the wall. He'd been a real prick -- worse than numbers one and three but not quite as bad as Fawn's father. It looked like that was going to be the last picture, though. His mother, once a real natural beauty, was in no condition to attract another man. And since she didn't count her children, that left her pretty much alone.

His cell phone rang, and he picked up. "Hello?"

"Josh Hagarty, please."

"Speaking."

"Hi, this is Bill at Alder Data Systems."

Josh sat a little straighter. "Bill! It's good to hear from you. I'm really looking forward to meeting with you and talking about joining your team."

"Yeah. About that. I'm afraid we're going to have to cancel."

"Can we reschedule for some time that would be more convenient?"

"I don't think so, Josh. Your resume looks great, but we've decided to go with someone else."

Josh suddenly felt nauseated. "Bill, you're making a mistake. If you think I'm lookin
g f
or some insane amount of money, you're wrong. I understand you're a small company, and that's what's exciting to me. I think I can really help you achieve the potential --"

"The decision's been made, Josh. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

Shock turned quickly to anger. "Jesus Christ, Bill. I'm scheduled to be back in town for that interview, and I've been stalling other companies until we talked. Now you're telling me you're just blowing me off?"

"You're just not what we're looking for, Josh. I'm sorry."

"But --"

The phone went dead, and he swallowed hard before looking back at the source of the rustling behind him. Fawn was standing in the doorway, looking down at him with a broad smile splitting her face.

Chapter
5.

The sense of deja vu was somewhat diminished by the fact that this was Josh Hagarty's first experience with a second interview. Of course he'd listened hungrily to his friends' stories about them, but those narratives had always had the faded impact of someone describing color to a blind man. Now all that was going to change.

He glanced at his watch and jogged across the street, aware that he was doing everything exactly as he had before -- a slip into superstition and compulsive behavior, for sure, but there was no point in taking chances.

The receptionist smiled and called him by name, telling him to "just go on back." The informality felt like a good sign, and his confidence rose as he navigated the hallway to the waves and greetings of the people behind open doors. It was like he'd worked there his whole life.

"Stephen?"

Trent rose from behind his desk and waved him in. "Josh! I really appreciate you coming on such short notice. I know how busy you must be."

"My pleasure. I appreciate you inviting me back." Josh sat and tried to relax as Trent dragged up a chair to face him.

"I don't see any reason to beat around the bush. We'd like to offer you the job."

Josh felt his breath catch in his chest but managed to get normal respiration going again before it became obvious. Or he turned blue.

"The salary we're offering is forty thousand a year." The moment he said it, Trent immediately raised a hand to head off the uncontrollable laughter he apparently expected. "You've got to understand that it's really difficult for us to compete on salary with the private sector guys who are courting you. Our donors would be understandably upset if they thought everything they were giving was going to American employees and not the Africans we're trying to help. It's hard to explain to them that getting good people saves us money in the long run."