Owned by the Ocean (2 page)

“
Are you going home for Christmas?” asked Brant, looking up
from his book.

Leo too had
lay down on his bed and was studying his arithmetic. He looked over
at Brant. “Of course. I believe my father is coming to get me next
week. Are you?”

“
I suppose. My father hasn't visited me except that one time I
got in trouble for pouring ink down Robert's jacket.”

Leo chuckled,
presumably at the memory of Robert’s face turning a plum shade of
purple from anger and embarrassment. “He's a tough one but I'm sure
he only wants what's best for you.”

Brant scoffed,
“What's best for me? Perhaps, but he has a very narrow view of
what's best.”

Leo put down
his book and sat up. “I like you, Brant, but I also think you're in
serious need of an attitude adjustment. You father has worked very
hard to get where he is now and you don’t appreciate what he has
given you. He doesn't want his life for you. The navy is not easy
and often ends in tragedy. Take the easy way. Your father worked
hard so you would have the best things in life.”

“
It's not about status and courts and money to me. I don't
want to be stuck in a life where everyone plays a role and wears a
mask. I want adventure and freedom.”

“
Then you are naive. You think adventure is glamorous? If so I
think you will find yourself disappointed. This life isn't so bad.
I have fun still.”

“
But your parents, anyone outside of your circle of friends
has no idea what you're truly like.”

“
That's not true. I still act like myself; I just choose to
practice discretion in revealing some of my less than appropriate
habits. Speaking of which, my father sent some money again. Would
you like to go play some cards?”

Brant looked
back at his book for a moment then sighed, “Why not? It's that or
stay here reading.”

Leo laughed.
“That's the spirit. Come on let’s dig into your trust fund a little
and make use of some of your father's hard earned money.”

* * *

Brant took
another sip of whisky as he looked over his cards carefully. He
knew he had a decent hand but he wasn't sure he was willing to risk
his money on it. He looked around from person to person. Leo was
grinning like a wild cat, but he always did. Whether he was winning
or losing, it was easier for him to look happy than to keep a
straight face. If Leo were to win he would split the pot with Brant
and they would stay out and have a good time. If anyone else were
to win both Brant and Leo would be out of luck and out of money. It
would be back to school for them with their tails between their
legs to await a week of boredom until they went home for Christmas.
Brant made his decision.

“
I'm calling,” he said, laying his cards down on the table
face up.

The three men
lay their cards down in a huff, most of them had nothing, one guy
was close but fell just short of Brant’s hand. Leo had yet to place
his cards.

“
Not bad, Brant, not bad. But you still have much to learn.”
Leo lay down a royal flush.

Sometimes
Brant wondered if he cheated because Leo had the best of luck at
cards. It seemed he only lost when he had to.

Leo stood up
and swept the money that had collected in the middle of the worn
and dirty table into his hat. He and Brant walked over to another
table where he began to count it. “How much did you put in?”

“
About ten pounds.”

Leo counted
out the money and handed it over to Brant. “Drinks are on me
tonight, my friend. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

Brant laughed.
“Thanks, but I didn't get you anything.”

“
Aw who cares, it’s drinks. If you had been the lucky one
tonight you'd be the one buying. Besides, if we really want to be a
stickler about who's buying the drinks it is the three guys we left
sitting at the card table. Merry Christmas to us.” Leo raised his
glass and drained the last of the whisky.

Brant looked
around the bar and took a long drink from his glass. Pulling a
packet of cigarettes from his jacket, he offered one to Leo who
took two, tucking one behind his ear and lighting the other.

“
This is the life, Brant. All we need is a couple of girls on
our arms and we'd be high class.”

“
We are high class, Leo.”

“
But we're boring high class. This is fun high class;
drinking, smoking, and girls. We need us some girls.

“
This life you're chasing after, my friend, has some of the
qualities I'm looking for, I’ll admit, but it is hard work and that
is not something I enjoy. In another couple of years I'll be
shipped off to Jamaica and I'll have all the drinks and smokes and
girls I want without my father knowing and with money at my
disposal.”

“
With an attitude like that you'll run your father's
plantation into the ground.”

“
Nah, you see I have business sense. I know when enough is
enough.”

Brant smiled.
His friend was smart enough but he did enjoy blowing his money. It
worried him that he would be taking over his family's largest
source of income. “Leo, I think we should go back soon.”

“
Nonsense. I expect to have a good time tonight.” Leo waved
over a serving girl who brought him another whisky. “Hello love,
what's your name?”

She giggled,
something Brant couldn't stand in the girls Leo chased. All so
giggly and flirtatious. It was disgusting.

“
Sarah.”

“
Well, Sarah, my friend here, Brant, could use some company.
He doesn't think that being here is any fun. Do you think you can
change his mind?”

She looked at
Brant and giggled again. “Why this is the most fun pub in all of
London. You can ask any one of the serving girls.” She winked, put
a drink in front of Brant and flounced away.

“
Leo, that was sad.”

“
How so, my friend?”

“
The girl is desperate for guys like us to take a liking to
her. They all are. Those silly dresses they wear leave very little
for the imagination, and she still thinks that a bit of attention
from a guy like you or me will take her out of this hell hole and
into our lives. It's sad. I'd rather pay a whore like Claire than
play this game.”

Leo's eyes
flashed. “Don't call her a whore.”

“
That's what she is, Leo. She's a nice girl and I wish just as
much as you that she didn't have to sell herself but that is the
reality of things. Don't be angry with me that you're falling in
love with a common prostitute.”

Brant knew it
was a low blow. He could see how his friend felt about the girl and
he felt bad that Leo could never find the happiness he was
searching for in Claire. They were of completely different classes
and she was a scarlet letter. A harlot. If she was anyone, anyone
at all other than what she was, Leo could risk bringing her into
his world. But as a working girl, never.

Leo's face
twisted in anger. “I'm not in love with her.”

“
No? I understand that you
can't
be in love with her, but don't
lie to me; you're falling for her and you're too far gone to break
it off. For goodness sake, Leo, you have to
pay
her to spend time with
you!”

“
That can change. She could leave the brothel.”

“
But do you honestly think she will? You called me naive
earlier but now who is acting naive? She has seen too much of the
world. She knows no one like you or I are going to make good on
taking her out of this life. As much as you might want to she knows
you can't. Your family and society would never allow it. She's
stuck with the hand she was dealt and the only thing you can do is
continue to pay her to spend time with you.”

“
In two years I'm leaving for Jamaica. I can pay her passage
and she can come along.”

“
Can she? Do you really think your father would allow you to
run his plantation if you're keeping a mistress and having her
gallivant around as a real lady?”

“
He doesn't have to know.”

“
You're right, he doesn't and I hope for yours and Claire's
sakes that you can find a way to make it work, but it's unlikely.
If you really want to make it work you may have to stoop down a
level, leave your family name and fortune behind and make it on
your own.”

Leo got up and
slammed his glass down. “When did I ask you for advice about my
life, Brant? When did I ever ask for your input?”

“
When did I ask for yours? You tell me I'm silly all the time
but what are you?”

“
I'll see you tomorrow. I'm not looking for advice from a
sixteen year old that doesn't know anything about life. Not
tonight. Not ever.”

Leo threw a
few coins on the table to cover the tab and left the bar. Brant
knew he was off to see Claire and he would be back for breakfast
tomorrow, so he didn’t worry. His friend had to blow off some
steam.

Once Brant
finished his drink he waved over the nearest girl and ordered
another, leaning back in his seat and lighting another cigarette.
Sarah, the serving girl came over, all smiles, drink in hand.
“Where's your friend?”

“
He left.”

“
That's too bad. I don't suppose he'll be coming
back?”

“
No. Can I ask you something, Sarah?”

“
Sure.”

“
Why do you do it? Why do you flounce around, smile and let
people man-handle you? Will it get you anywhere?”

“
It’ll get me tips and put food on the table.”

“
I wish you would have more self-esteem, Sarah. You're worth
more than this.”

Sarah laughed
bitterly. “Thank you, but I think I know what I'm worth. Not
everyone can be born into wealth and privilege. Some of us have to
paste on a smile, pull our necklines a little lower, and hope we
come home with enough coin at the end of the day to get a family
fed.” She didn’t stick around to hear Brant’s response, and he was
glad she didn’t. He wasn’t really sure what to say.

Getting up, he
walked by where Sarah was standing near the bar, and as he passed,
he slipped her a ten pound note.

Brant opened
his eyes slightly as Leo stumbled into their room. Robert remained
fast asleep as far as Brant could tell but Leo was making a real
racket, crashing into a dresser and then his bedpost as he felt his
way blindly in the dark.

“
You okay?” Brant whispered.

Leo fell onto
his bed and sighed. “Do I look okay?”

“
I’m sorry," and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the
bruises that Leo was sure to have in the morning.

“
But you’re right and I hate it.”

Brant didn’t
reply so the two boys lay in silence. Brant waited until he heard
Leo snoring, then got up and left the room. It was expressly
against the rules to be out of the dorms after ten but he left
anyway. He needed time to think, time away from the supressing
darkness and heavy breathing that filled his room.

Making his way
to the study lounge, Brant stepped lightly in stocking feet, all
the while listening for anyone that may be patrolling the halls. He
didn’t know what would happen if he was caught, but he didn’t
really want to provoke his father’s anger, and there was no sense
in being careless.

Sitting down
in one of the large easy chairs beside the ever burning fireplace
in the cozy and quiet room, Brant sighed and rested his head in his
hands. He hated seeing Leo unhappy because of his own stupidity,
but he was no different. How many times had his friend urged him to
embrace the life he'd been given? And yet he chose to be miserable
as he strove for the one life he couldn't have.

He would be
going home soon for Christmas and then he would be back here again
to finish off the school year. He had four years of school to
endure and after only a few months he was beginning to wonder if he
could do it. Already he had lost interest completely. He found
himself fighting the urge to walk out of class and keep walking
until he found himself a ship and was sailing beyond his father’s
grasp. He could do it, it wouldn’t be very hard. All it took was a
little resolve. But as much as Brant knew what he wanted, he
couldn’t bring himself to go against his father. In small ways
sure, breaking rules, drinking and smoking, playing pranks on the
teachers; it all didn’t matter. He hated to admit it but the small
acts of rebellion were to get his father’s attention. It was his
way of showing his father how incredibly unhappy he was with his
life, and at the young age of sixteen he shouldn’t be so unhappy.
He shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not he was going to be
miserable all his life. He was too young to have that kind of
weight. Was it too much to want the approval of his father for his
life choices?

Pulling a
cigarette out from the pack he always kept in his jacket pocket,
Brant lit it and drew slowly back on the paper stick, letting the
sweet, acrid smoke fill his mouth and filter down into his lungs,
then curling and caressing his lips and nostrils as he exhaled.
Instantly he felt his muscles relax.

“
Brant Foxton?”

Brant quickly
hid his cigarette and looked over to see who the voice belonged to.
It was well past one in the morning and no one should have been
walking around. “Hello, Headmaster Mansfield.”