Chain Reaction 4.7: Dance

 

 

 

Brylee

     "Jerk alert," Aspen tells me quietly. We're on our way to lunch, stopping for a minute to look at today's menu.

      "Gooooo bulldogs!" Scott cheers, throwing confetti up into the air, littering the hallway.

      Crap. "Hi, Scott."

      Aspen gives him the side-eye. "Bye, Scott."

      He gives her a scowl. "You two aren't pumped we made it into the championship?"

      She rolls her eyes. "No, we don't eat, drink, and smoke on the skill of your throwing arm." Scott's the quarterback. And captain. Of course. "And you won't make friends with the janitor by throwing crap into the air like that."

      His eyes move to a bit of a glare. "I'm trying to be festive." 

      I think that meant he's trying to be celebratory.

      He turns to me, a smile replacing the glare.

       "So, Brylee there's that dance after the pep rally on Friday."

       Aspen groans, but he ignores her.

       "And I don't have a date. Care to do the honors?" He asks like he expects me to giggle and clap my hands for joy.

       OMM. He's never actually asked me out before. Crap. "Uh-uhm. I think I have... plans." I look at my best friend. Help! 

      But Aspen's already on it. "Yeah. She's planning on going to the new housing development to watch paint dry."

      He smiles. "Oh get real. I'm serious, Brylee. Why not come to the dance with me?" He reaches down and gets my hand. "We could have a good time." His thumb brushes the back of my hand, making my skin crawl. I jerk free of his grasp.

      "I'm busy."

      He reaches up and brushes some of my hair behind my shoulder. "We could go as friends." His hand holds my shoulder like a claw. "It'll be so much more fun if you're there."

      I take a step back, pushing away his hand, and Aspen loses her temper.

     "When are you ever going to get it? She's not interested!"

      He finally turns to her. "Who said anything about being 'interested'? I'm asking her as a friend."

      "Ugh!"

      I speak up. "If I'm just going to go with a friend, I'll go with Aspen."

      She gives him what could only be called a Cheshire Cat grin. "There you are, then." Her arm wraps around my waist. "Buzz off."

      He lets out a huff and rolls his eyes, ignoring her once more. "Brylee, okay, so I wasn't asking as a friend. I don't know why I said that. It's just a dance, and it's definitely more fun than whatever she's got planned."

 

      Plum. I have to be blunt. "I'm sorry, Scott. No."

      He wilts for just a second before recovering. "Oh, sure, yeah. No problemo. I'll just ask that freshman Jenna or whatever her name is. Whatever. Have fun watching paint dry." He throws a scathing look in Aspen's direction.

      Aspen doesn't let it go. "Anything's more fun when you're not around."

     Later, at lunch, I see that Scott did ask the other girl out, and she attaches herself to him like a tick. He keeps glancing over at me, and I'm irritated with myself how I keep glancing back. Ugh!

     This evening, we have a small party for Elle and Brent as they age to teen.

     Elle kind of looks like a mix of everyone and Brent... really looks like Uncle Mike.

     Why does aging to teen have to be such a drastic change?

 

    At any rate, we all go to a restaurant nearby, and towards the end of it, I step outside to get some air.

 

     I'm pouting, and I can't figure out why. It was a shock seeing my little sister and cousin age up, but is that a reason to pout? Am I having some weird mid-teen crisis thing like now I feel old?

     I just feel... sad. And none of my little tricks are working right now.

     Maybe it's because I can feel adulthood creeping up on me, and with that comes adult life. As in, I'm probably going to get married and kids and stuff and then I'll just get older then die. What's the point?

     And I don't know if I want to get married. There's not a single guy I could possibly imagine myself being interested in. I'm not even gaga over famous guys that girls at school drool over. I've never even wanted a boyfriend for plum's sake!

      There's probably something wrong with me. That's it. That's nature telling me that I'm the end of the line for my bit of the family tree. I'm just too odd. My brain's all screwed up. 

      Depression is a bitch.

      I should probably get back inside. Mom and Dad are going to wonder where I am. I just had to escape Mom's scrutiny for a few minutes. Whenever I get like this, she hones in like a vulture on carrion.

      "Brylee?"

      I jump and turn towards the voice. It's Scott.

      "Where did you come from?" he asks. "You don't live around here, do you?" He sees the restaurant. "Oh yeah. Tony's."

      "Yeah. It's my little sister's age up party." I get up from the picnic table. "I should probably get back inside."

      "Before you do," he calls out because I can't walk away fast enough, "could I talk to you for a sec?"

      I guess I'm just too nice. I can hear all the ways that Aspen would reply in a snarky way, but I just pause, turn to him, and ask, "What about?" Nice though I am, I still move a few steps back when he approaches me.

      He notices, and he crosses his arms in front of himself.

 

     "I want to talk about what happened before lunch today."

     Crap. "Scott, I just flat-out don't want to go to the dance."

      "Then why not say that instead of letting Aspen do the talking for you?" Then he mutters under his breath, "Again."

      I look at his shoes. "I didn't know what to say."

      He lets out a huff. "Brylee, we've been friends for years." We have? "If Aspen's bullying gets out of hand, you know you can come to me, right?"

       I scowl. "What?" Since when is Aspen a bully? "She's not."

       He unfolds his arms. "She's not? She sucks up every second of your time. Haven't you noticed you hardly spend any time with Cohen or Jessica? I can't remember a time we've had a conversation where she wasn't cutting in with her attitude. And you just let it happen like you approve. What kind of hold does she have on you? It's getting to where you don't do anything without first getting her approval."

       I give him a look. "I don't need her approval. That's ridiculous."

       "Then why let her talk to me like that? I get that she hates me, and I don't care. But... do you hate me?" He folds his arms again.

     "No, I don't hate you." I don't particularly like him, though, but I don't want to be mean. He creeps me out.

     "Then don't treat me like dirt, okay?"

     "I wasn't meaning to. Sorry." I pause. "And I need to get back inside." I try to walk past him, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist. I spin around in shock, pulling my wrist back, but he has a vice grip on it. He pulls me back to him.

 

      "Why do you hate me?" he asks, reaching up and holding my cheek with his other hand.

      "I don't." Well, I might.

      "What did I do that makes you flinch every time I touch you?"

      I pull on my arm again. "Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm not asking for it?" I remember back in middle school how I'd asked him to stop touching me and hating the hurt look on his face. He'd stopped, but over the past years, he's gradually gone right back to the way he was when I was in seventh and he was in eighth grade.

      "You've never had to ask." He responds to my tugging. "Brylee, please, I'm holding you like this because I can never get you to talk to me otherwise. You always manage to slip away before I can get to it." His grip loosens a fraction. "I'd hoped I could have a chance at the dance."

      "Scott..." I don't know what to say exactly.

       But he does.

     "I adore you, Brylee. Ever since middle school. You're so beautiful, and when you smile... Watcher, you light up the world. All I've ever wanted was for you to like me back. I've tried so many times to get your attention, get you to notice me. What more do I have to do?" He's seconds from kissing me if I don't do something.

      "I don't want a relationship right now." Or maybe ever.

      He stops his attempt to kiss me. "With anybody? Or just me?"

      "I... don't know." No idea why I don't just tell him.

      He sighs. "Okay. I'll wait." A smile covers his face suddenly. "But so you know, you're the one I want, so don't believe anything else you see or hear. I don't really care about Jenna. Trust me, all you have to do is snap your fingers, and I'm yours."

      A picture pops into my mind. "Well, wouldn't the team be entertained by that?" I smirk.

      He laughs. "I don't care."

      I hear Dad call out my name. Phew. There's a better excuse than just 'leave me the plum alone.' "I gotta go."

      "Okay." He kisses my hand.

      "Stop it," I snap and successfully yank myself free. Then I watch his face fall.

      "Sorry."

      I start to walk away, but Aspen's voice in my head makes me stop. I can't leave it at this. So, I turn to him. "Don't wait for me, Scott. I'm not interested. I'm sorry. I don't like you like that, and I doubt I ever will." Well, that's why I haven't done it yet. The crushed expression on his face tears me up inside that I could do that to someone. I try so hard to fight off the sadness that I disadvantage myself when it comes to preventing hurt feelings anywhere.

      I'm a monster. Why couldn't I just do it better than that? I've spent so much trying to keep from hurting his feelings even though he's always bothered me, but I can't find another way to do it. And the fact that I can't find another way to do it just proves that I'm a monster.

      I make my way over to my family, carefully avoiding my parents' eyes. I know they're curious, but thank the Maker, they don't ask questions.

Chain Reaction 4.6: Partnership

 

A/N: Something from 4.1 brought this chapter into being, and it features Alexander Goth's grandson Valentino. I thought I'd include the tree thing again as a reminder if nothing else. Note: Drake and Emily are/were the same age. This puts Valentino closer to the age of Alex's son Alaric (few years younger).

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Valentino

     My grandmother had been staying with me these past weeks, just so we all could keep an eye on her and her failing health, when she drops dead one afternoon.

     She was the last parent I had, well, not including my grandfather and company, which I usually don't. I'm truly an orphan now.

    As soon as I can manage it, I have a funeral for her, it taking place in my house, a house left to me by my father, which was given to him by my grandfather Kenneth. Out of duty, I invite my Goth grandfather.

     He brings her with him.

     For years, I lived with them. I'd not wanted to move in in the first place, but as a child, my father forced me. He was in some hair-brained plot to try and steal that woman from his father, and I got caught up in it. Eventually, Dad went to jail, but I still remained with my grandfather because I was underage.

 

     I hated it there. Even Alaric would wish me gone from time to time.

     I was worse than the 'red-headed step-child,' I was a reminder of who my father was. I know Emily hated me. My father was a monster, and looking at me reminded her of him and the abuse she suffered from him.

     But how was that my fault? She closed her mind, shut me out, so I shut all of them out.

     As soon as I could manage, I escaped, moving back home to live with my other grandparents in this house. When I came of age, it officially became mine. My mother's uncle also left me a large fortune upon my turning eighteen, which came as quite a surprise.

     My grandmother kept searching, and we found Morgan Haywood, my old nanny. As a child, I loved her. She moved in with us, and for a while, the three of us were happy.

     Only now, Grandmother has passed on.

     I wrote her obituary, keeping it respectful and loving. I'll miss her. For a long while, she was the closest thing I had to a mother.

     Which makes me wonder...

     I notice the online paper keeps an archive of previous obituaries, so I search my birth mother's name.

 

     Grandmother would never tell me how she died.

     Violet Franco Goth died in her home. It then says the date and who's she's survived by. She died at home? And the next one listed in my search is a Donovan Franco, her uncle. He died the same night, murdered by his bodyguard. This has Dad written all over it.

      I'm startled by my phone ringing in my pocket. Answering it out of curiosity, I find it's Oliver Landgraab's personal assistant. He wants to meet with me.

     Like myself, he bases his operations out of his home. Well, I will base my own operations out of my home once I take control of the company. Since Dad's arrest, and then later death, it has been handled by a board of directors. My grandmother was the head of it, but now, it's mine.

     What would Landgraab want? 

     Upon arriving, a man escorts me to the office. Landgraab's house is much smaller than mine, I notice immediately. I suppose it makes sense. The Taylors ruined them.

      I walk in and head towards a chair, but the blond man hops up out of his and walks around his ridiculously-huge desk.

     He quickly exchanges niceties, shaking my hand as he does so. Then, motioning to his right, he says, "Please, have a seat." He takes the other one. "I'm assuming you're curious as to the purpose of this meeting." The other man stands against the wall behind us.

 

     "Naturally," I reply. A man who cuts right to the chase. Good. I hate small talk. 

     "I wish to offer my condolences on the passing of your grandmother. She was a great lady."

     "Thank you." Well, so much for no small talk. 

     "Unfortunately, her passing has left me in a bit of a pickle. Landgraab Industries was in negotiations with XYZ to sponsor our latest development in medical technology." XYZ is my newly-acquired company.

     I clear my throat. "You'll have to understand, Mr. Landgraab-"

     "Oliver, please," he interrupts, asking me to call him by his first name.

     I offer a small smile. "Then please call me Valentino, but as I was saying, my grandmother has passed very recently, and I haven't had time to go over everything left to me." Which I will get to asap as soon as I get home. I admit I'd been putting it off because it made her passing just that more real.

     "Yes, well, you see, that may be where the issue arises. The arrangement was still in the beginning stages. We had yet to have any signed paperwork on the matter. I don't know if the board sided with your grandmother to fund the project."

     "I see. So you assume everything you're telling me would've been swept under the rug and never brought to my attention." Ah. So there it is. He needs money and smells a lot of it coming from the heir to Kenneth's company as well as the surprise windfall of the Franco fortune: me. 

     He sighs, relaxing more into his chair. "Precisely."

     "But tell me, Oliver, XYZ is a shipping company. Why would it be interested in investing in medical technology?" It's a damn good question.

     He smiles.

 

     "Because Laura Franklin was one hell of a businesswoman. Once she heard about our discoveries, she wanted in. She was interested in branching out by forming a kind of partnership with Landgraab Industries. To appease the board, we were going to offer sole rights of distribution."

     "Distribution of what exactly?"

      He chuckles. "The work of three generations: a multi-drug that cures almost any ailment."

     I smirk. "You're joking. Something like that couldn't possibly exist. Everything? It's not possible."

     He grins. "I assure you it is. Perhaps not in our grandfather's time, but now, it's a reality."

     Science wasn't my favorite subject in school, but even I know that not all illnesses are created equal. "Wouldn't the 'multi' part of it cause side effects?" Eh, it's a shot in the dark, but I want him to keep talking and give me more info.

 

     He blinks and backs his head up, a gesture of impressed surprise. "There were, and it set us back quite a bit. However, after some further testing, we found a solution. And it works. The government is set to approve of it any day now."

     "You're pitching this to me without government approval yet?" I swallow a laugh.

     "It's only a matter of time."

     "So what exactly was the arrangement Grandmother was going to make with you?" For now, I'll have to take him at his word.

      "Weeeell, it was more of an intention instead of an arrangement. Like I said, we were in negotiations."

     Something I can't pinpoint clicks inside me, like a notch falling into place. "Allow me to help you out here, Oliver. I'm not a man who enjoys chitchat, so here's how I see it: Your company has manufactured what could very well be a miracle, yet you lack the funding needed, probably for mass production, et cetera, in order to continue."

     "Something like that."

     I give him a look implying that I wasn't finished. "And you're offering distribution rights should I sign on and help provide funding. But mere distribution is a drop in the bucket. How am I to convince a board to sign on to this with such a small morsel? I want fifty percent of the profits. We'll work out distribution later." I feel I'm being generous with the fifty percent.

     Apparently, he disagrees.

     "Fifty? Why should I give you fifty when it's a Landgraab formula? All I require from you is an investment. I can find that elsewhere, but I contacted you in deference to your grandmother. I was willing to offer you ten."

     I have the gall to laugh. "Yes, you did come to me. How am I to know if you haven't already offered your trivial ten percent to others and failed?" I struck a nerve.

     "I can't do fifty. I have my employees to think of as well as general running costs. The highest I can go is fifteen."

     "Screw the board. I have other... means... at my disposal. If I'm allowed a demonstration and access to solid scientific data, minus the formula, of course, I'll plug my own money into this. But I want thirty-five percent for the first seven years and twenty-five after that." I hold up my hand to his balking. "With the option of you buying me out after the first seven years." I see the wheels in his head start to turn. "I will provide you the capital you need. And, naturally, I'm sure XYZ would love to strike a deal for the distribution rights."

     He smiles, and I find I like the wicked gleam in his eyes.

     "Change seven to five, and we might have a deal."

     I shrug. "Six and guaranteed distribution rights for XYZ." The board won't have a problem with that.

     "I'll get my lawyers on it. I believe we've begun something of a partnership, Valentino."

Chain Reaction 4.5: Clear Vision

Benjamin

     I can hardly believe my life is real. As soon as I aged to teen, my music career took off. My cousin Alaric Goth started up a music label, and Mom became my biggest cheerleader, sending him stuff we'd recorded. There was some concern my voice would change too much when I aged up, but Alaric insists it's just gotten better.

     Right now, for the fun of it, I'm fooling around on my karaoke machine. It's good to give the chords a stretch and not be sitting at the piano while doing it.

     I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm famous. I have an album out, and it's doing okay. But it's not like I'm stopped on the street being recognized. I have a little laugh with myself that all I typically have to do is put on my glasses, and it's like Klark Cent to SuperSim. Sad thing is I may have to stop going to my high school since I'm too much of a 'distraction.' That's life, I guess. I'll take the payout. In terms of money, I want to help my family.

      My grandmother's mind is gone. She doesn't know who I am; she typically treats me like I'm a guest, like I must be one of her kids' friends. One time, she even asked me if I had my own home to go to. Mom looked like she wanted to cry, but I just rolled with it and told Grandma that my parents were still at work and that Ethan said I could just hang here. Then she'll ask me who Ethan is because she doesn't remember her own son. She remembers Mom (or pretends that she does) because she sees her every day.

     Anyway, Mom and my step-dad Braydon frequently have a nurse come by to help them out, and I want to help pay for it. They won't let me. Braydon gets this look in his eye whenever I ask. I get it. He's working at his gym a lot, and he feels guilty that Mom has to shoulder much of the burden that Grandma is. He insists on paying, so instead, I have a savings account filling up.

     One morning, my life changes a little more:
 

     I later find out that Mom and Braydon had been trying. It's a bit weird for me that I'll be fifteen years older than my sibling, but I guess I can be happy for them. This'll be Braydon's first child.

 

      Braydon will make a great dad. Hell, he already does.

      I know people always say that kids want their parents to stick together, but honestly, my parents are happier apart. Mom married Braydon, and Dad got a new job... working for my cousin Alaric, ironically. He's a talent scout, and he's married to his job.

      Grandma acts like Mom is pregnant with me, like she's thinking she's back in time. The nurse says that it's good that she's remembering something that recent, but for me, I get to hear all about what Grandma really thought of Mom during that time because she doesn't filter her words. I was an accidental pregnancy, apparently, from a rebound hookup. Yeah, Mom and Dad probably shouldn't have gotten married.

     I will not make the same mistake they did. 

     My second album drops, and I start getting recognized a bit more.

      I think I'll be more like Dad, married to my job. I don't know how long this famous-thing will last, but even when it ends, I hope to work somehow with Goth Records like him. My cousin Alaric says I'm very grounded, whatever that means, for a fifteen-year-old. Is that a compliment? I just know what I want.

     And I don't think I want a family. I guess growing up, I never saw what a couple in love looks like. Sure, I'm happy for them, but it feels so foreign to watch Mom and Braydon gush over each other. I'd say it's almost annoying--but not really.

 

      I have to quit my school, but Alaric gets a tutor for me. Then, before I know it, my life changes a little bit once more:

      I have a baby brother: Jace McCullough.

 

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Sorry if this felt cut-and-dry. It's partly due to how Ben's mind works. Even though musically gifted, he's pretty left-brained. He's not glass-half-full or glass-half-empty; he's more of a glass-with-water-in-it kind of guy. 

 

I basically wanted to include the chapter to show some more background on him as well as give a peek into Isabella and Braydon's life and their lil' one.

 

Ben's little story arc will really include the background I've set up in this one, quite possibly to his detriment, but we will see.