The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (35 page)

“Is that a guarantee?”

Wolf chuckled, amused.
Yeah, neat, ask for guarantees in life.
“Yes,” he said straight-facedly.

“So what now? What’re you going to do hereafter?” a female reporter in the fourth row asked after stating her stats.

Not shag with you for sure.
“Hereafter, I’m going straight home and having a shower. I shower twice a day; it’s a habit.”

There was a ripple of laughter.

“What I clearly meant, sir, was what does life have in store for Wolf Butcher here on?” she said patiently.

“I recommend you redirect that question to Him.” He pointed upward.

Another person asked, “Why are you quitting? You are at the summit of your career.”

“Because I’m bored. Because I need to do something else with my life, something more positive and meaningful.”

“But you don’t know what that is?”

“Not yet, but I’ll eventually figure it out.”

“Gerald Smith from TIME. What about your countless fans?”

“They’ll survive. Life goes on. They’ll find some other conman to fall for.” More laughter.

“Is that what it is—a con job?” Gerald Smith shot, seemingly offended by what he considered Wolf’s facetious answer. After all, it was
the
TIME here.

“Life itself is a con,” Wolf said offhandedly. He couldn’t have cared less if it had been the Pope himself.

“How can you say that? Are you…”

Uma had to break in. “Next question, please. … Yes, you ma’am, out there,” she pointed.

She announced her name etc. and asked, “Does this decision of yours have anything to do with the horrible deaths of your family members two years ago?”

What mundanity!
Wolf thought. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

Fuck off.

“Next question,” Uma announced.

Then for the first time, the front row became active, and Wolf inhaled deeply and braced himself.

“Rodney Baker, ‘The New Halcyon Times,’ a tall, lanky man with a stretched nose said. “Is it true that there’s a rift in your family and you’re no longer staying at Butcher Garden?”

Wolf exhaled slowly. He was silent for five seconds. “No, sir, that’s not at all correct.”

“Then what
is
correct?” The man’s face was blank and his tone flatly adversarial.

When he had announced this morning his intention to hold a Press conference, he had no real idea why he was doing so. The proclamation of his retirement wasn’t
really
what it was about. Given his general indifference for the Press, often even contempt, he could’ve as easily sent a press-note…or better still, not said anything at all. But there was something else why he
needed
to meet with them, though he was unclear in his mind what it was. Yes, very abstractedly, he had an idea, but he couldn’t switch that vagueness into something on a tangible level. However, he also knew that this unnecessary engagement with these pretentious dud-heads would in some way bring his subconscious intentions out.

“What’s correct is this,” Wolf said. “I very much live at Butcher Garden and I have no quarrel with any member of my family.” Partially that was true. He had moved back home early this morning.

“Is it correct that you intend to adopt a little girl from the St. Teresa Children’s Home?”

Wolf sighed.
Oh, you fucking predators!
“Yes, absolutely.”

“And is it correct that the adoption was scheduled for the Monday after your wedding…that is today?”

“Not today, last Monday.”

“Right. But it didn’t go ahead.”

“The wedding didn’t go ahead.”

“Can you state the reasons, sir?”

It’s none of your fucking business, asshole.
“The condition for adoption was that I needed to be married first.”

“But why were your marriage plans terminated in the first place?”

Because your type have the filthy habit of shoving their elongated noses up people’s assholes to determine just how much shit lays gathered there.
“You know the reasons, sir.”

“Is it because you found out at the last moment that your bride was in fact a prostitute?”

Wolf’s face hardened. He didn’t answer.

“Sir, you didn’t answer my question.”

How do you know your mom wasn’t peddling on the side?
“You are wrong. My fiancé wasn’t what you say she was,” Wolf said coldly.

“Then the report that appeared in one newspaper was wrong?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t read it.”

“You seriously mean to say you haven’t read that report?”

“I don’t read that particular tabloid.”

A woman next to Baker jumped to her feet. “Excuse me, Mr. Butcher, The New Halcyon Tribune is
not
a tabloid. We’re very much a proper mainstream morninger.”

“That may be your opinion, it’s not mine. For me, it is a yellow rag of the filthiest quality.”

“Just because we state the truth, without bias?”

“Ms. Witcher, please speak when it’s your turn,” Uma reprimanded. “Mr. Baker, will you please finish now? There are others too.”

“I’m done, Uma.” And he sat down.

Ms. Witcher was quickly back on her feet.

“Maddy Witcher from The New Halcyon Tribune,” she declared sharply. “Tell me Mr. Butcher, isn’t it true that the chief of the National Adoption Board, Judge Ian Cass, has refused to allow you to adopt this girl, Robin, if you marry this lady, Savannah Burns?”

A strange silence slided down the hall.
So this is the bitch responsible for it all
—for his every difficulty, his every grief. The person who had single-handedly annihilated his whole world. Face to face for the first time with the most potent and powerful force on the planet, Wolf felt overawed.

Yet, he was amazed too. For such a fiery demolisher, she was a little bird. Wolf guessed she wasn’t more than twenty (actually she was twenty-nine, he’d learn later), but what especially surprised him was her physicality. She was hardly five feet and barely a hundred pounds. Her blonde hair was cut like a soldier’s and her facial features were sharp in every way—the high cheekbones, the prominent chin, the pointed nose… Two items on her person were completely incongruous to the rest of her delicate frame. One: the eyes. They were steel blue, and, like steel, cold and unblinking. But there was an acuteness to them, a sharpness that missed nothing, an intensity that suggested great intelligence commingled with practical shrewdness. The other was her breasts. For a woman of such wiry frame, they were large. Nay massive, jutting out like a pair of gorged Everests.
Half of her weight must be in her tits!
(
30G,
as she would boast later.) She wore a dark blue shirt, thigh-hugging stonewashed jeans and blue sneakers.
What a weird little bitch,
Wolf thought, surprised that such a bit of a thing could be so devastating. He also wondered about her name. Maddy Witcher.
Maddy? What sort of a fucking name is that? Did her parents recognize her character at birth itself?
Wow, some geniuses they must be!
Afterwards, he would learn that her name was actually Madonna.
Maddy
was its truncated version. Wolf thought it was quite appropriate too—
she appears to be quite a mad witch.

“Mr. Butcher, would you like to answer that question?” Uma prodded, rather gingerly.

“Yes.” He turned back to Ms. Witcher. “Yes, what you’re saying is correct.”

“And why does Judge Cass lay down such conditions?” Maddy Witcher asked.

Wolf looked around. “Well, I don’t see Judge Cass anywhere around, do you? So will you please ask
me
the questions?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m asking
you,
sir.”

“Oh, really!” He blinked his eyes innocently. “Well, it’s a question only the judge can answer.”

“Isn’t it because Judge Cass, a man of high morality and values, has reservations about an innocent and impressionable eight year old girl being brought up by a woman like Ms. Burns?”

Hot blood came to Wolf’s cheeks. He lowered his head and studied his hands. After a couple of deep breaths, he looked up and spoke again. “Ms. Burns has more character than any politician in this world. And yet, you don’t object to a politician governing you, do you?” His voice was ice. “And let me tell you this, Miss—even the worst whore anywhere is better than the best politician on the planet.”

A stunned hush fell on the hall. Scribes gawked at each other, eyes wide with disbelief and shock.

“Why, what’s so shocking?” Wolf queried, leaning keenly forward. “The truth? It’s so shocking? Uh? But it is true, isn’t it? Think about it rationally. … But I guess we are such self-righteous hypocrites, we don’t like to accept what is so plain…we don’t like to see the truth as it really stands.” There was just a whiff of contempt in his tone.

Ms. Witcher was the first to recover. Her words when she spoke, each word, was clear and emphasized. “Are you then saying that Ms. Burns has more character than President Butcher?”

“I’m talking in general terms.”

“I’m asking a specific question. Do you include your uncle in your observations?”

“It is not an observation. It is a statement of fact,” he said. “And as for President Butcher, he is an exception.”

“How so?”

“Because he is not a career politician—politics is not his trade or vocation. He doesn’t make a single buck from it or because of it. He governs the nation in an honorary capacity—both in letter and in spirit. And as everyone knows, unlike career politicians, he is totally uncorrupt and incorruptible. That’s why he is an exception, Miss Witch.”

“The name’s
Witcher,
Mr. Butcher, please note that!”

Wolf suppressed a chortle.

“Let’s not digress,” Uma said, to no one in particular. “Let’s keep to the point, please.”

Wolf turned his head and glared at her.
Now where was the fucking need for you to butt in?
“Are you now going to dictate what I say and not say?”

Uma flushed. “I wasn’t referring to you, Mr. Butcher,” she mumbled.

“I’ll reiterate my question, Mr. Butcher,” Maddy Witcher said with a barely perceptible smirk. “Isn’t it true that Judge Cass objects to an innocent and impressionable eight year old girl being brought up by a woman like Ms. Burns, and that is the reason why he won’t allow you to adopt the girl?”

“Yes…according to his way of thinking.”

“And isn’t it also true that your uncle objects likewise and supports Judge Cass totally on this issue?”

“Yes.” He stared at Maddy Witcher with granite eyes.

“And because of your insistence on marrying this woman, there has been a major rift in your family, with you a virtual outcast?”

“Look, I’ll not discuss my family beyond a point, Miss…whatever your name is. It’s an intensely personal matter.”

“But your family insists on going public. For example, I spoke to your sister in San Francisco this morning.” She briefly checked her notes. “Olivia Katich, and when asked about the present strife in your family, she said that you were behaving in the most selfish and immoral way. Her very words.”

Wolf went red. He gritted his teeth and the muscles popped out on both sides of his jaws. It looked as if he may detonate any moment. “You’re lying, you…”

“Why don’t you check with her, Mr. Butcher,” Witcher said. She was completely unfazed. “We don’t lie. We worship the truth.”

Wolf pressed back in his seat.
More deep breaths
, he told himself. He had promised himself, no matter what, he wasn’t going to lose it and give these pimps a fucking advantage. He suddenly cursed:
this chair is too fucking comfortable!
He tensed himself and leaned forward.

“Mr. Butcher, would you like to continue with this conference or…” Uma was saying warily.

“No, let’s continue.” He turned back to Maddy Witcher. “Well, I guess you’re right. But that is purely their belief. I’m an independent adult and I have my own sets of principles, values and opinions about right and wrong by which I live, and which I consider far, far superior to the doltish and fallacious way of thinking of the rest of the human race. I consider myself an enlightened and a highly evolved soul.”

Suddenly it all fell into place—the reason he had called this Press conference. Bravado. Defiance. For the first time ever. A bravado, a defiance, triggered by Rochelle’s dressing-down earlier.
Hail hero!
He took a long breath and found himself ease up. It didn’t matter anymore.
Come on, let fly…fling it at me, pimps!
And he relaxed back into his seat once more. Now suddenly, he was grateful the chair
was
so comfortable.

“So you’re saying it doesn’t matter what Judge Cass, or President Butcher, or any of your family members think about this issue. You’re going to do exactly as you please.”

“Didn’t you just hear me, lady? Perhaps you should pay a little more attention,” he mocked. He was beginning to enjoy himself now.