10. The Fractured Table.
The Lightwood and Ellington families often alienated themselves from the other three High Families. They had grown exhausted with the Hightowers’ constant fighting and clawing at each other’s throats. While the Da Silva family aligned themselves with the Crimson Hightowers, the Lightwoods and Ellingtons refused to pick a side. They remained neutral. Unfortunately, their neutrality didn’t come without consequences. The two families were often left out of important matters and the last ones informed. Over time, Lucia Lightwood and Mikhail Ellington formed a close bond which they found comical. Science/medicine and religion had historically always been at odds.
“Your incision is healing well, Lucia.” Mikhail tossed away his gloves and stepped over to the sink. “I’m guessing Lucilla’s still in the dark, yes?” He asked, washing his hands. Mikhail then plopped down on the stool to write a progress note in Lucia’s chart. “She’s going to have another stroke when she learns what you did.” He ended the statement with a sharp whistle.
The possibility of her mother having another stroke didn’t faze Lucia at all. “Good then! I won’t be disappointed with that end result.” The beautiful woman laid on her side, facing Mikhail. “One less hemorrhoid in my ass to deal with.” Lucia responded with eagerness, twirling a strand of dark, curly hair between her fingers. She fantasized about how she would celebrate upon seeing Lucilla’s dead body. The thought made her hot with arousal.
The woman’s remark nearly caused Mikhail to spit out his tea. His wild laughter was heard down the hall. “You and these eccentric comments tickle me so much.” Mikhail enjoyed and appreciated his friendship with Lucia. There were times she would visit him at work which usually made his day. Mikhail placed the mug to his lips again. “So, the Rosenbaums are members of the High Families now. What an odd but interesting turn of events.” Lucia’s hair twirling abruptly stopped.
The beautiful smile on her face twisted into a hateful scowl. “I couldn’t care less about that lowly family.” She would never recognize the Rosenbaums as official members, nor would she respect them as peers. “Alexander’s pack of feral dogs continues to grow larger.” Her tone was bitter. “Tearing apart everything in their path for their master. This town’s become a filthy dog park.” Lucia remarked to Mikhail how much she despised dogs. The doctor nodded and drank his tea.
The decision to allow the Rosenbaums into the High Families infuriated Lucia the most out of the two of them. The Hightowers’ authority was out of control and had been so for a while. The High Families, all five of them, should have voted together on who got the Morgensterns’ old seat. It should not have been the Hightowers’ call to make alone. “It troubles me too, Mikhail.” She said with a shaky voice. “Whose to say they won’t revoke someone’s membership if they have the power to instate them?” The Hightowers and Da Silvas made it obvious how much they disliked Lucia and Mikhail every time the families convened. The power balance was out of control. Lucia compared their predicament to standing in a valley while looking up at a mountain.
Lucia had every right to be concerned and bothered; she had it worse compared to Mikhail because of her gender. It was an issue. It had always been, and it would always be. The High Families were a male-dominated organization. Lucia was an anomaly. The heads of the High Families could choose whomever they wanted as their successor, regardless of their direct relationship. However, a male successor was always expected to lead. It was a bit of an unspoken rule.
Mikhail rolled the stool over to the exam table. He offered Lucia comfort. No matter how many masks Lucia wore, he saw through each one. She had his empathy. Mikhail never understood why Lucia’s gender was an issue. Compared to the other three men, he found her to be the most level-headed. Any time she spoke, they shut her down, ignored her, or talked over her. They refused to take her seriously and never would. Hypocrites. The doctor thought. There had been times when the Hightowers’ violent quarrels nearly burned Wych Elm to the ground. They were the problematic ones.
“I wish they would go ahead and destroy one another so we could be rid of them.” She covered her face with her arms.
“It won’t be long until it happens.” Lucia peered at Mikhail from under her arm. “The pot’s been boiling for far too long and it’s going to spill over soon.” The civil war between the Hightowers was nigh. “Only one Hightower family can rule Wych Elm.” Mikhail paraphrased the words that Alexander and Solomon always told their families. “The only problem with that aggravating civil war, aside from the ensuing chaos, is that we’ll be undoubtedly pulled into it.”
Lucia sat upright and swung her legs over the side. “Hell could freeze over at his very moment and I still wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of their nonsense.” She referred to the Hightowers’ feud as a two-hundred-year-old hissy fit. The only involvement Lucia would have was a front row seat to their downfall at each other’s hands. A Wych Elm free of the Hightowers was the closest they would reach world peace, in Lucia’s eyes.
Mikhail became irritated with Lucia’s narrow-minded perspective. The idea that they could simply opt out of the Hightowers’ civil war was laughable as it was asinine. “What makes you think we have a choice, Lucia?” The tone of his voice shifted from lightheartedness to seriousness. The word no to Alexander and Solomon was the equivalent of spitting in their faces. “I don’t want any parts in their squabble no more than you, but it would be beneficial to align ourselves with one of the Hightower families.” Mikhail suggested they side with the lesser of two evils which was Solomon. “The Da Silvas, through Ishmael, are already backing Alexander. The Rosenbaums will support whomever the Da Silvas tell them too.” To Mikhail, Alexander posed more of a threat than Solomon, though the latter was not to be underestimated either.
From the moment he met Alexander, Mikhail saw the dark and sinister energy that brewed inside of him. That malevolent energy was worse than the one inside of Mikhail. The mayor of Wych Elm was a monster wearing a man’s skin. Alexander needed to be purged by any means necessary.
Lucia wouldn’t hear it. She moved away from Mikhail and accused him of being a loyal dog to the Hightowers. “That’s the problem, Mikhail. There are no lesser of two evils when it comes to the Hightowers. Solomon and Alexander are the same level of evil, no matter which side the coin lands on.” Lucia would rather they kill her than be intimidated or threatened into an alliance with either of the Hightower families. She wasn’t afraid to die because at least in death, she could get away from Solomon and Alexander for good.
Although Mikhail agreed with Lucia, he continued to argue his point. Lucia had to look at the grander picture. “We don’t choose, then the Hightowers, Da Silvas, and Rosenbaums will take us out before they turn on each other.” An alliance with Solomon would ensure the survival of both their families, if only for a little while.
Lucia fired back with a counter argument. “We side with Solomon…okay? Then he decides to pick us off once we’ve outlived our usefulness." She motioned for Mikhail to think with his head. “We’re just pawns on a board to them. A means to an end. What’s the one thing Solomon and Alexander desire more than anything else? Absolute power.” She clapped her hands twice. Lucia reiterated that they stay out of the Hightowers’ feud no matter the cost. I’m tired of walking in their shadows anyways. She said to herself.
For the sake of his and Lucia’s friendship, Mikhail decided to end the discussion on that note. She could not be swayed or convinced otherwise. As frustrated as Mikhail was by Lucia’s “stubbornness,” he also admired her resolve even in the face of imminent danger. “It’s a shame what the High Families have become.” Mikhail shook his head disappointingly. “The table is about to collapse under the weight of too many egos.” He mourned the former glory of the High Families. Even when the table was at odds, the heads always maintained a united front. Lucia, on the other hand, was at peace with the inevitable. Once the table finally broke, they would build a new one, albeit smaller.
Lucia looked down at her watch. She had to leave. “This visit’s been nice, but I have another appointment in thirty minutes.” Lucia slid gracefully off the exam table. Mikhail handed the woman her jacket and purse. “I have a meeting with the project building manager for the academy.” Our Lady of Light Academy, a school affiliated with the Lightwood’s church, had been destroyed in the storm that struck Wych Elm weeks earlier.
Mikhail congratulated Lucia on the academy’s rebuilding effort. “Once that’s done, you’ll have two less hemorrhoids in your ass to worry about.” He cackled at his remark. Lucia, smiling, couldn’t help but shake her head.
“Let’s have dinner in a week or two.” Lucia told Mikhail. The doctor replied that he would have his assistant rearrange his schedule.
“Want to shoot for Friday in two weeks?” She confirmed their dinner date with a nod. “Fantastic!” Before Lucia went about her way, she paused in front of the mirror. The woman took a moment to touch up her makeup. Mikhail teased her. “You should invite this project building manager to our dinner so I can see him.” He giggled like a school aged boy.
Lucia rolled her eyes again. “Don’t make me kick that stool out from under you.” The man continued his giggling. Mikhail asked Lucia if she was a misandrist. “If I was one, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would we Mikhail?” She proclaimed that she didn’t hate all men, only the ones like Alexander, Solomon, Ishmael, and Elder Lucius.
“Well, that’s reasonable.” Mikhail spun around and returned to his workspace. “While I have you here, there’s something…I want to discuss with you.” He brought up the dead girl’s body in the tree. Lucia, unbothered, continued touching up her makeup while Mikhail scribbled on his notepad.
Once Lucia finished with her eyeliner, she removed a tube of mascara. “I don’t know anything about that. You should ask our dear mayor.” She replied with a cold, apathetic tone.
Mikhail knew Alexander would never discuss the matter with him of all people. “You know, I’ve been wondering why he’s been keeping the little discovery so hush-hush. I mean, dead bodies are left behind everywhere Alexander goes, and everywhere Alexander goes, dead bodies are left behind.” Mikhail’s brain itched to know. What was so special about that dead girl’s body that the mayor of Wych Elm permanently silenced the men who found her. “Maybe she’s some kind of Trojan Horse.” He wiggled his fingers with delight.
Lucia paused her activity. “Mikhail…why are we talking about this? If Alexander isn’t talking, why should we be concerned?” She was aggravated by the topic. Lucia also thought it was strange Mikhail of all people was interested in something so trivial. “Did you, do it?” She asked him accusingly.
Mikhail dropped his pen. “I heard from some loose-beaked birds that the wrists and ankles were bound with rosaries…supposedly.” He spun around and faced Lucia whose back was still to him. “I thought you could shed some light on her identity.”
Lucia continued to look at her friend through the mirror’s reflection. “And why would I know anything about her?” Sure, Our Lady of Light was the only church in Wych Elm, but it saw many parishioners. “We give those rosaries out like candy.” Lucia unapologetically shrugged; Mikahil raised his eyebrows. “Her killer could be someone from-dammit!” She touched the incision on her lower abdomen. “Can you write me a prescription for something stronger?” Lucia winced out. She described the throbbing pain as unbearable.
Their initial conversation had seemingly been forgotten about. “Yeah. No problem.” Her prescription would be ready at the community pharmacy by the time she got there.
“Great! I’ll have my assistant pick it up.” She was running twenty minutes late already. Mikhail encouraged Lucia to reschedule if the pain was that agonizing. “It’s still swollen too.” She revealed to Mikhail it hadn’t gone down since the procedure. It was going on week four.
“That’s because you won’t sit the hell down.” Mikhail chastised Lucia to her annoyance. “You need rest, ice, and compression.” He read off the list with his fingers. Lucia’s next follow-up appointment was in three weeks, but she could see Mikhail anytime she wanted with concerns or questions.
“God…you nag just like Lucilla.” She replied jokingly, trying her hardest to distract herself from the throbbing. “Look, if you're planning to get into trouble tonight, be careful.” Lucia also cautioned him not to go overboard either. Mikahil told the woman to focus on healing and resting, not him. He was discreet unlike Alexander.
“Sister Lucia! Sister Lucia, is that you?” The old woman was out of breath by the time she reached Lucia.
“Stand down.” She whispered to her private security. Lucia informed them she knew the woman. Isabelle was one of her church’s most devoted, long-time parishioners. The woman had attended Our Lady of Light since Lucia’s grandfather was the head priest. She posed no threat. “And how are we doing today, Miss Isabelle?” Lucia warmly greeted her. “I heard from Miss Janice you were sick for a little bit. I missed seeing you at service. You had me worried.” She commented how much healthier the older woman appeared.
“I’ve survived worse, my dear.” Isabelle told Lucia she wouldn’t keep her long. She knew the woman had more important matters to deal with than listening to a batty old woman talk her ear off. “I wanted to say hi, since it’s been almost two months since I last attended service.” Isabelle lamented how she never got to witness Lucia’s inauguration. “Never thought in my eighty-seven years of life, I would live long enough to see a woman lead Our Lady of Light.” It gave Isabelle the chills. “Your father, Elder Lucius, is probably looking down at you with a proud smile on his face.” She squealed with satisfaction.
That sexist bastard’s looking up at me screaming in despair. The word proud and Elder Lucius in the same sentence almost made Lucia cackle in the woman’s face.
Upon the death of her father, Lucia Evangeline Lightwood, became the first and only woman within the Lightwood family to hold position as the head. Despite the momentous accomplishment, Alexander, Solomon, and Ishmael never failed to remind Lucia that she inherited her position on technicality. She was the middle child and only daughter of Lucilla and Elder Lucius. Her older brother, Lucian, was born with a developmental disability while Younger Lucius, her younger brother, was ostracized for his homosexuality. Lucia would have never been chosen as heiress had her father’s “homophobia not exceeded his sexism,” in Alexander Hightower’s words.
“Oh, look at me.” Isabelle threw up her hands. “Talking your ear off like I said I wouldn’t do.” She chuckled sweetly. “I’ll let you go on about your way now. I appreciate you humoring me for a few minutes.” Isabelle turned to leave but stopped abruptly. “Before I let you go, there’s something I want to ask you.” Isabelle asked Lucia for another rosary. “Your grandfather, Luciano, gave me my first rosary decades ago when I was ten and I've treasured it all these years.” She informed Lucia how she passed the rosary on to her grandniece. “As much as I didn’t want to let it go, that girl kept pestering me nonstop.” She laughed. “Eventually, I gave in and let her have the dang thing.” She then proceeded to casually mention how her grandniece went missing three weeks later.
The revelation alarmed Lucia. She became lost in her thoughts, tuning out the still rambling woman. What reason would Alexander have for killing some old bat’s grandniece? That was if Alexander was involved somehow. I doubt it. He’s a freak, yes, but children aren’t his taste. Maybe it was that pervert, Edmund. Lucia shuddered when she thought about the man. Everyone throughout Wych Elm knew about his ephebophilia. He repeatedly harassed Lucia when she was a teenager. But Alexander wouldn’t go to lengths to protect someone like that. What am I saying? Alexander would sell his mother’s soul to the Devil for free.
“…wherever she is, I hope that rosary is still protecting her.”
Lucia touched the worried Isabelle’s shoulder. “I will pray for you and your family until your grandniece returns home one day.” Lucia’s words brought a hopeful smile to the woman’s face. Those words, however, lacked genuineness. Lucia didn’t care about Isabelle’s plight or anyone else’s. She merely responded how someone in her position would. Those prayers for Isabelle’s grandniece remained unspoken.
-----------------------
Nolan Hightower was the eldest son of the late Cornelius and his first wife, Katrina (also deceased). When Nolan was seven, his mother died suddenly from respiratory arrest. His father went on to marry Rowena, Katrina’s second cousin. Rowena gave Cornelius three more sons, Arthur, Theodore, and Alexander. Poor Nolan found himself the Black Sheep among his father’s four sons. Cornelius favored him the least, despite being the firstborn son. He was also harder on Nolan than he was with the middle sons and Alexander. Eventually, Cornelius gave up on Nolan and focused his attention and time on preparing Alexander as his successor. Nolan came to resent and despise Alexander on top of their father.
Alexander was chosen as heir over Nolan for a legitimate reason, however. Art and Theo weren’t interested in succeeding their father. The twins were content with their place in the hierarchy of the family. Alexander was the wiser candidate because he was more adept, methodical, and grounded. Nolan was his opposite: too short-tempered, spoiled, lazy, and prodigal when it came to his finances. His track record of impulsiveness when it came to business and politics concerned and angered his father. Cornelius knew Nolan could never succeed him because his eldest son would have destroyed the Crimson Hightowers.
The family would have never accepted Nolan as their patriarch even if Cornelius had chosen him. Alexander was well respected, despite being feared. Even the Silver Hightowers preferred Alexander to Nolan. That only made his hatred for his youngest brother burn hotter.
“My bladder’s almost full.” Nolan swallowed the entire glass of Cognac and slammed the empty cup on the table. “I should go piss on father’s grave right now.” He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his expensive shirt. The maid behind him refilled his glass. “You can go now.” Nolan dismissed the woman rudely. Tessa, the maid, hurried out of Nolan’s suite. She never said a word. The young woman was overjoyed when Nolan sent her away. None of the estate staff wanted Nolan as their assignment. He treated every one of them horribly.
Elias listened quietly as Nolan vented his frustrations loudly. His companion still fumed over his exclusion from the sit down with the Silver Hightowers. Nolan felt slighted. He felt like he had every right to be there but Alexander didn't want him. “And then the audacity to invite those scum of the Earth Rosenbaums into our ranks.” Nolan referred to the Rosenbaums as fleas because of their alignment with the Red Hound. “And while it’s on my mind, what was the point of that sorry alliance with the Silvers, hm? The Grand Families’ alliance crumbled quicker than a dry cake. Alexander could have sent his Red Mutt and his pack of feral dogs to deal with them.” Nolan cursed loudly. It was nothing more than a game to Alexander as everything was. He was disgusted. “Maybe I should dig up father’s corpse and slap it around instead.” Angered, Nolan jumped up and paced around his suite. He told Elias he was tired of waiting in the shadows. “We need to execute our plan. Soon.”
Elias told the impatient Nolan to calm down. “Lower your voice too.” The walls of Old Cahawba weren’t as thick as they appeared. “Trust me, Nolan. I understand and I feel the same way.” But their scheme couldn’t be rushed. “We haven’t ironed out all the kinks just yet.” He reminded the ever-restless Nolan. “If we move any sooner, we might as well put our heads on the executioner’s block ourselves. Alexander won’t hesitate to kill us. That’s why we need to be smart.” He tapped his temple. While Elias supported Alexander in the public eye, he despised and schemed behind the patriarch in private. No one wanted to see Alexander’s position usurped as desperately as Elias did. “We have to think and move like Alexander if we’re going to beat him at his own games.” Nolan settled; Elias was right. He had a window of realization. His father had always been right about his impulsive nature.
Nolan returned to his chair and relaxed. “You know, Elias, I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time.” He swung his leg over the chair’s arm. Elias listened attentively. “Fuck Alexander and these worthless Crimson Hightowers.” Nolan proposed breaking off from the Crimsons in lieu of usurpation. If they had succeeded in their plan, the Crimson Hightowers would never accept Nolan in power.
Elias liked the idea…in theory. Unfortunately, he knew better. Another split would never work, especially in their favor. Alexander had the loyalty and support of most, if not all, of the family. Elias also knew Solomon would never allow that to happen either. He would join forces with Alexander just to crush their branch. Two Hightower families were enough. Three Hightower families would cause irreparable havoc. “Not to mention, it would reflect poorly upon our reputation as Hightowers. The twin Hightower families have always been a symbol of absolute authority and fear within Wych Elm.” Elias feared the residents would perceive them as weak and challenge their rule like the Grand Families did.
A frustrated sigh escaped Nolan’s mouth; he rubbed his temples. Elias was right, again. Another split would never work. It was a Fool’s Dream. The only way they could free themselves from Alexander’s tyranny was to usurp his position. “I do have another idea, Elias.” The man perked up a little. “It might not work, but we can try…at least.” Nolan suggested they form an alliance with the Grand Families, what was left of them. To his disappointment, Nolan didn’t receive the response he had expected. His co-conspirator frowned.
“I doubt-highly doubt we can sweet talk the Grand Families over to our side.” The hatred the remaining Grand Families held towards the Hightowers only doubled after they came between their [Grand Families] alliance. No amount of bribery, manipulation, or even threats would make them get in bed with Elias and Nolan.
Nolan wagged his crooked finger at Elias. “True, but there may be a sliver of hope. It will take a lot of convincing, but if we present Alexander and Solomon as our common enemies, we may be able to sway them to our side.” Elias was still uncertain, but it was worth the gamble. Nolan’s idea had potential. There were some kinks the two men had to first work out before they presented their proposition to the Grand Families.
Hassani Hightower rose to his feet and wandered back to his suite. For the last thirty-something-odd minutes, he sat outside Nolan’s suite and eavesdropped on their conversation. The young man shook his head disapprovingly as he closed the door behind him. “Elias, this scheme won’t end well. You shouldn’t have allowed Nolan to seduce you into his web.” He then wondered if it was Elias who seduced Nolan, not the other way around. “I can’t help but worry about his safety even though he despises my existence. I guess…my heart's too kind.” Hassani told Luna, his pet Canary. He reached into the cage and allowed her to perch on his finger. Hassani then perched on the windowsill and gazed out into the dwindling evening.
Hassani was Elias’ younger, paternal half-brother. He, like Nolan, was also a Black Sheep of the Crimson Hightower family. However, his reason was different. Born to an Algerian mother, Hassani grew up in the capital of Constantine until age nine. He was only brought to Wych Elm by his father upon his mother’s passing. Hassani was surprised by the gesture since his father had long abandoned him and his mother.
The young Hassani was excited about his new life in Wych Elm, a relationship with his father, and meeting his extended family, especially his older brother Elias. But to the young boy’s dismay, his arrival was not met with loving arms or warm smiles. Hassani was met with disdain, cold stares, and hostility. Naturally, he assumed the attitudes from the Hightowers came from a place of discrimination. The attitudes did but it had nothing to do with his ethnicity or nationality. The issue was his legitimacy.
A lot of members of the Hightower families despised and discriminated against illegitimate children. Someone like Hassani was still entitled to the same privileges and rights as their legitimate counterparts. That meant he could become head of the family just like Elias, a legitimately recognized child. The inclusion of illegitimate children only created more conflict and competition. The constant in-fighting between various family members was intense enough. “Why should we have to compete with the bastards?” Ten-year-old Hassani overheard a woman ask. That was on the third night after his arrival; it hadn’t been a week.
But poor Hassani heard it worse from his brother Elias. “You’re not my real brother. I want to make that clear. You’re just another byproduct of his disgusting kink.” The nasty and hateful statement blew Hassani away. He couldn’t believe those words came from another child’s mouth. The half-brothers were three years apart.
Elias refused and would never accept Hassani, or any other half-sibling fathered by Leland. His younger half-brother was a permanent reminder of his father’s philandering behavior. As long as Elias drew breath, he would reject Hassani’s existence, walking past his brother as if he weren’t even there.
The disdainful attitudes, words, and behaviors from the Crimson Hightowers frustrated and devastated Hassani. It didn’t take long for the negative energy to break him down. To maintain his sanity, Hassani kept his distance from everyone else, his own father included. The man chose the life of a recluse and was only seen when he wanted to be. Hassani observed the family’s machinations from the shadows while he grieved for the home he was unable to return to. Hassani felt trapped inside Old Cahawba. Just like his bird Luna he too, was inside a cage.
“Mister Hassani?” The butler tapped lightly on the door. “Dinner is ready. Will you be eating in your room again this evening?” He waited a moment before cracking the door. “Mister Hassani?”
Luna was returned to her cage. Hassani always felt a crippling weight of guilt whenever he closed the bird inside. “I’ll have my dinner in the dining room tonight. I’ve been couped up in this room for the last week.” There were times when self-isolation was more harmful than it was good. Hassani made it a habit to get out once in a while to maintain his sanity. “Thank you, Mister Oliver.” He shook the butler’s hand.
“You’ve been here going on seventeen years now and I’m still thrown off by how kind you are.” Oliver chuckled. The two men had a special relationship. Oliver often told Hassani he was the “most pleasant Hightower he came across,” and “the type of Hightower the world needed” because he was nothing like his relatives.
The deadly scowl on Elias’ face could kill a rampaging bull. Leland’s assistant, Angela, was sent to summon the man’s sons. Retrieving Hassani was Elias’ responsibility, however. No matter how hot Elias burned with anger, Angela paid his feelings no mind. Her task was done. “Your father wants to see you both in his suite-” she looked down at her watch, “-within the next twenty minutes.”
“Well, you better hurry and tell Hassani. I’m not going to get him.” Elias stubbornly crossed his arms. He wanted no interaction with Hassani, regardless of what his father’s orders were. Angela leaned into Elias’ ear and whispered something. The defiant man’s attitude did a complete one-eighty. “…damn womanizing bastard…” Elias grumbled under his breath. “We’ll catch up later, Nolan. I have to meet with my sperm donor.” Nolan lightly nodded.
“Pour me a drink while you’re here.” He held his glass out to Angela. The woman looked him up and down with a cold grimace.
Angela turned to Elias. “I’ll go on ahead and notify Mister Leland of your cooperation.” She smiled cheekily at Elias, aggravating his anger some more.
Nolan shook his glass, rattling the ice. “I told you to pour me a drink-” The door slammed on Angela’s way out. “Bitch…” Nolan was left to pour his own drink.
Hassani, on his way to dinner, collided with Elias when he opened the door. He was dumbfounded to see Elias on all people outside his suite. “E-Elias? H-h-hi! Good evening! Wh-what are you-” The disgruntled older brother shoved Hassani away from him.
“Leland wants to see us.” He informed his brother in an ill-tempered tone of voice. Hassani could see the steam wafting off his brother. As much as he wanted to inquire about why their father wanted to see them, Hassani kept his question to himself. Elias would have struck him out of anger.
Hasani replied with a simple, “Okay” and followed cautiously behind Elias.
Leland'’s suite was located on the eastern side of the Old Cahawba estate. The walk to their father’s room felt like the longest trek of Hassani’s life. He attempted small talk only to be ignored by Elias who kept his eyes forward. It was expected. Hassani remained quiet until they reached Leland’s suite.
Instead of knocking and waiting for permission to enter, Elias disrespectfully flung open the door. “We’re here.” He informed Leland in the most miserable tone he could muster. Their father, who was on the phone, looked up with a hateful glare. Hassani quietly tip-toed off to the side while his brother continued being loud and disruptive.
“Th-thank you, Jonathan. I’ll call you back in an hour or two. My sons are here.” Elias dragged one of the armchairs away from the seating area. He was dead set on maintaining his distance from his brother and father.
Leland maneuvered around his desk and greeted Hassani with a warm hug and kiss on the forehead. He paid Elias the Grouch no attention. Leland always ignored his older son when the man was in a foul mood. “You’re starting to lose some of your color, my son.” He commented as he examined Hassani’s complexion. “You need some sun.” Leland proposed a father-son golf day. Elias clawed at the leather chair. He was disgusted by the way Leland showered his illegitimate son with affection.
Hassani gave his father a shy smile. He was uncomfortable with Leland making plans in front of Elias whom he had no intention of inviting. Leland and Hassani knew Elias would have said no anyways, but the principle still stood. “That… That sounds nice!” Hassani told his father to let him sleep on it for a few nights. Leland’s cheerful smile became a frown. He respected his younger son’s wish, however. Hassani was still wary of his father’s intentions with him. He still held resentment towards Leland for abandoning him and his mother. Perhaps, Leland was trying to be a better person. Perhaps, it was a sham. All Hassani knew was that he was conflicted over whether to trust his father or not. Leland was a Hightower at the end of the day.
And supposedly, there were no good Hightowers.
Leland patted Hassani’s cheeks. “Have a seat, my son.” He directed Hassani to the empty sofa. “I have some important matters to share.” Leland sat opposite Hassani on the sofa. He crossed his legs. “Would either of you like a drink?” Leland signaled to his butler. “I have an extensive, high-end liquor collection. Usually, I’m rather stingy with sharing but you are my sons.” He chortled.
A loud, frustrated groan came from Elias. “Please say what you need to say.” He told Leland that his personal time was more valuable than time with his father. “You have five minutes and then I’m leaving.” Elias and Leland glared at one another. Hassani watched from the sideline, more uncomfortable than before. The hostility between his father and his brother would escalate, he feared.
Leland sharply cut his eyes at Elias. He claimed the glass of liquor from the butler’s tray and dismissed the man for the hour. “That will be all. Thank you.” The butler slithered quietly out of the suite. “I’ll be in Madrid with Charles next week on business. We’ll be gone no more than two weeks at most.” Charles Hightower was the creative director for Renoir, a high fashion clothing brand on par with other well-known luxury brands. Renoir had an upcoming show. Leland often assisted Charles with various projects. Although Leland’s exact contributions weren’t well known.
Elias’ face immediately twisted up. Whenever his father was away on “business,” illegitimate children bearing the surname Hightower magically appeared nine months later. Elias was no fool. His father used the Renoir fashion shows as his hunting grounds. Leland preyed on young, desperate, and ambitious women; he enticed them with promises he never upheld. It happened to his own mother. She was young. She was impressionable. She had dreams. The difference between Elias’ mother and Leland’s countless lovers was that she managed to snag the ring. The marriage was a loveless and miserable one, however. As self-centered and indifferent towards others as he was, Elias feared for the naïve women who unfortunately crossed Leland’s path.
I should call mom later on. Elias thought. When his parents divorced, Leland was unsurprisingly granted sole custody of Elias. He kept the boy away from his mother during his earlier years. Yet another reason why Elias was always at odds with his father. “Make sure you pack a box of condoms this time. We’ve got enough bastards running around the estate.” Elias made sure he locked eyes with Hassani when he spoke the last sentence.
The word bastard to Hassani was like a gunshot to the stomach. He couldn’t stand that offensive word. Every time that word rolled off Elias’ lips, a part of Hassani was cut away. He suspected that was Elias’ end goal: to cut away at him until there was nothing left. Hassani looked away to hide his tears.
Leland, sensing Hassani’s pain, snapped at his older son. “Hassani isn’t a bastard. So, stop calling him one. He’s, my son. He’s a son of Hightower, just like you. You’re no better than him and he’s no better than you.” Leland would shoulder Elias’ anger. That was fine with him. “Stop taking your anger out on your brother-”
“-he’s not my brother!” Elias interjected rudely. He slammed his fist against the armchair. “We’re not going to keep having this discussion.”
Leland stifled his laughter. “We Hightowers are born with inflated egos and sense of self-worth. It’s definitely genetic at this point in our history.” He swirled the glass of liquor. Leland leaned forward with an intense glare in his eyes. “But what you and others like you need to realize is that you’re not as high up in the tower as you think you are. A lot of us are closer to the bottom.” Elias said nothing. His father had left him without words for the moment. “Moving on.” He reclined back. Leland informed his sons that he wanted both of them to handle his affairs in Wych Elm while he was away. Of course, Elias wasn’t pleased about sharing his father’s responsibilities with Hassani.
However, Hassani politely declined. “Elias is way more qualified than I am.” The younger son was okay with Elias handling all of their father’s affairs. “I-I really appreciate you giving me important responsibilities, but it’s all right. I’m not as business driven as the rest of this family.”He turned his head to the side again.
Don’t expect a thank you from me. Elias said in his head. His temper cooled a degree since he no longer had to cooperate with his half-brother.
Leland respected Hassani’s boundary. “All right then. Before we call it a night, there’s-there’s something else I need to share with you both.” Leland shifted hesitantly in his seat. It wasn’t out of fear though. He contemplated how best to deliver the message to his sons. The man had to brace himself for Elias’ angry outbursts. Leland cleared his throat and called on his assistant. “Angela.”
Angela disappeared out of the room for a few seconds and returned with a little girl in hand. The girl, Gracie, was no older than nine. The same age as Hassani was when he first arrived to Old Cahawba. Gracie was a shy little girl with dark, braided hair and a bronze complexion close to Hassani’s. She immediately ran into Leland’s arms and buried her face in his chest. He coddled Gracie, kissing her forehead as he had done Hassani earlier.
Gracie was another of Leland’s many illegitimate children. She was born in Virginia and raised by her mother, who later abandoned her daughter at the gates of Old Cahawba when she could no longer financially support them both.
The rage that consumed Elias caused him to rupture a blood vessel in his right eye. He trembled so violently, Hassani thought his brother was having a seizure. Elias erupted. “You damn, grimy pig.” He grabbed the heaviest object closest to him and launched it recklessly at Leland. Elias didn’t even care if it struck Gracie in the process (it almost did). He wailed so loudly that everyone in the vicinity heard him lashing out at his father. Gracie began to cry, to Hassani’s distress. That chaotic scene was no place for a young child. “Tell me, Leland! When does it stop? How many more bastards do you have tucked away in hiding? How many?” Elias screamed manically.
Leland handed Gracie back to Angela. “Please take my daughter to her room.” Hassani used the heated exchange between the men to excuse himself. He eased out the door behind Gracie and Angela.
Hassani kindly took his sister off Angela’s hands. “Go have a nice break.” He winked at the woman. Hassani told her he would cover for her.
Angela removed a carton of cigarettes. She slapped them against her palm. “Thank God… I’ve been needing a smoke break since five.” The woman disappeared around the corner.
Hassani met Gracie at eye level. He gently wiped away her tears with the Renoir shirt gifted by Leland two summers ago. Hassani was ecstatic about Gracie’s arrival at the estate. He hoped they could have the sibling relationship he and Elias didn’t. “Hey, Gracie. Do you like birds?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Y-yes… I really like birds.” Her answer brought a cheerful smile to Hassani’s face.
“Would you like to meet Luna my Canary?” Hassani offered Gracie his hand which she took without hesitation.
“S-sure.”
“After you meet Luna, we’ll go downstairs and have some good dinner.” Hassani promised they would play games until bedtime, and he would read her whatever story she picked out. The excited child jumped up and down. Hassani was thrilled to finally have a sibling he so longed for. It had always been him and his mother up until her death.
“Why was that man so unhappy?” Gracie looked up at Hassani who tried to find the appropriate response for a child her age.
“That’s our older brother, Elias. He… He doesn’t like having other siblings…”
“Ah… Well… I don’t like him at all. He’s really mean and loud and scary.” Gracie told Hassani she liked him more as a brother than Elias. The child’s remark made him laugh.
“There are a lot of scary, mean people in this house sadly.” Hassani really didn’t want to tell Gracie that, but it needed to be said. He wanted to desperately protect Gracie’s innocence at all costs. Unfortunately, he couldn’t while they lived under the Hightower roof. Hassani made a promise to Gracie: he would do everything in his power to protect her from the scary, mean people. The way he wished someone had protected him.
As Gracie and Hassani made their way back to his suite, a crowd began to form outside Leland’s door. Everyone wanted to hear the commotion. “Is that-is that Elias going off like that?” A woman asked.
“Yeah, it is.” The man placed his ear to the door for a better listen.
“It’s too late in the evening to be this damn noisy. What could they be fighting about now?” The second woman was trying to enjoy some downtime reading.
“My guess? Leland brought home another child.” The second man shook his head.
“Leland has more bastard children than some people have change in their pocket. This makes how many now?” The first man asked.
“I know for a fact he has at least thirty other children scattered across three continents.” The statement was followed by a chorus of disgusted groans.
“Can we blame Elias though? I’d be pissed too. This had gotten out of hand. Our family will be overrun with Leland’s bastards before we all know it. Alexander should really put a stop to this behavior.” The nosy spectators grew from seven to fifteen to almost twenty. The entire hallway outside Leland’s suite was filled with Hightowers and staff shoulder to shoulder.
Leland returned to his spot on the sofa. “Why does it even matter to you how many children I father? You hate me anyways.” He told Elias in a snarky tone. “You won’t associate with your half siblings anyways.” Leland accused his son of being bored and having nothing better to do.
Elias dug his nails into the armchair. He found the strength to look his father straight in the eyes. “You don’t seem to realize or understand how embarrassing it is to be the son of a man whose sperm spreads around faster than a wildfire.” Elias was always ridiculed by the other Hightowers for his father’s behavior. “Do you even care how badly this has affected me?”
“No, I don’t. You want to know why, Elias?” Leland rose up menacingly. “Because no one in this manor is as perfect as they pretend to be. These walls are stained with dark secrets. And if they could speak on the things they’ve heard and seen.” He let out a long whistle. “We’d all look stupid.”
Leland’s deflection from his problematic behavior was the final straw for Elias. He unleashed all the thoughts, words, and emotions he kept suppressed for a long time. “It makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it? This is the closest you’ll ever come to tasting it, huh?” Leland told Elias to watch his words, or he would see a wicked side of his father. “They chose Weylon over grandpa for patriarch.” Elias cracked a sly smile. The glass in Leland’s hand began to crack under pressure. “And he spent your entire life taking that loss out on you.” Elias closed the distance between him and his father. “You were never good enough to be his son. Grandpa always made you feel small. Made you inferior and powerless.” Elias whispered into his father’s ear. “And maybe he was right to have done.” Leland stopped himself before he strangled Elias. That was still his son, no matter how many blows they came too. No matter how many of his insecurities Elias verbalized and attacked him with. Had he acted on that anger, Leland would have killed his older son before he knew it.
“You’ve definitely been hanging around Nolan a lot. I can smell the stench of his inflated arrogance every time you pass me.” Leland backed away. The light in his eyes became dark. “Since we’re on the topic of power.” He laughed wildly in his son’s face. “I know what you and that loser of a Hightower have been up to.” Leland asked his son how Alexander would react if that information reached his ears. “I’ve witnessed the patriarch’s temper in real time and boy…” Leland combed through his hair. “Even the most harmless objects can become a weapon if Alexander’s pissed enough.” Leland circled around Elias. “Nolan was passed over for patriarch for the same reason my father was: they cannot be trusted with unbridled power.” Leland warned his son that Nolan would turn on him once that power got to his head. “You see, Alexander and Nolan are two different types of monsters. And it’s better to serve the monster who maintains order through fear and power than the monster who disrupts that order through chaos.” Elias was warned to sever his ties with Nolan before he joined the other dead bodies buried around Wych Elm.
“Burn in Hell.” Elias spat at his father. “I pray your plane crashes into the ocean.” And he meant those words too. Elias headed for the door.
“You’re trying so hard to climb the tower Elias that you can’t even see danger awaits you at the top.” Leland tried to convince his son that being at the bottom wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be. It was a lot safer.
Elias lashed out once again. “I’m not you, Leland.” He snapped in a hostile tone. “I’m nothing like you and I refuse to be anything like you.” Elias placed his hand on his chest. He would not be stuck at the bottom like his father and the rest. Elias wanted more.
“I’ve reached my limit with your stubbornness, Elias.” Leland clenched his hands. “Hate me as much as you want, but you’re my son. I may have a poor way of showing it at times, but I love and care about you.” Elias would never believe him, but Leland was trying to protect his son from the reality that was the Hightowers’ darkness. “You can do whatever or be whoever as long as it’s not a tool for someone else’s benefit. That’s why your business-” Leland quickly bit his tongue. He backed away and turned around.
A dark expression appeared on Elias’ face. “What were you about to say just now?” He demanded Leland to finish his sentence but his father refused. Elias pushed over the armchair. “Tell me what you were about to say.” The anguished son continued demanding. Leland, however, remained silent and kept his back to Elias. “Don’t tell me you had a hand in Alexander stealing my business, did you?” Silence. “TELL ME!” Elias yelled louder to the point where his voice cracked.
Leland told Elias he needed to go. “I have to start packing for Madrid.” Elias grabbed the glass carafe and cracked it over his father’s skull. Leland stumbled off to the side and tripped over the object Elias had flung earlier. “Eli-” Leland took a fist to his jaw. Elias straddled him and wailed on him until his father’s face was covered in blood. Behind every fist strike was a year’s worth of suppressed anger and frustration.
“You...dirty…bastard… Your own…son…” Elias accused his father of jealousy. “You couldn’t stand…your own son…doing better…than you…”
Elias would have beaten his father to death had the estate’s security not barged in and stopped him. “Enough, Mister Elias. Enough!” Compared to the enormous man, Elias was a mere ragdoll. He was flung to the floor. When Elias attempted to charge at his father again, he was pinned against the wall. “I said enough!” They would use deadly force next if further provoked.
“We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible.” The second security officer informed his team. Leland was in a terrible state and more than likely had a concussion. He also needed stitches.
Nolan barged into the room, shoving everyone out of his way. No one could say anything to him. Lowborn Hightowers were second class citizens to the highborn. Even someone like Nolan, a bottom of the barrel highborn, was to be respected. “Well, what happened here?” He asked in an almost comedic manner. It was quite obvious upon examination. Several Hightowers cut their eyes. Some insulted him under their breaths.
Leland was carried out of his suite by both staff and security. As the bloody man passed Elias, he reached out and grabbed his son’s hand, which was coldly batted away. “E-Eli-” Leland weakly called out to his son. Elias looked away.
“Ar-are you all right?” Nolan asked walking up to the man.
“You.” Elias pointed to a nearby maid. “Come here.” He cleaned his bloody hands on her apron. “We’ll talk about it later.” He responded in a low. disgruntled voice. “I need some fresh air. We’re going to the Lion's Den.” The lounge was privately owned by the Crimson Hightowers. Elias wanted some distance between Old Cahawba and himself.
Their way was quickly blocked by security. Nolan sneered at the men. “Move out the damn way.” He barked harshly, spraying spit everywhere. One of the men’s eyes twitched. “I know you heard me, asshole. We’re leaving.” Security refused to budge, which made Nolan furious.
“You’re welcome to go and come as you please, Mr. Nolan, but not Mr. Elias. This incident will be reported to Mr. Hightower shortly. Until then, Mr. Elias has to go back to his suite and stay there until the morning.” Alexander had enacted a zero-tolerance policy against inter-familial violence while on estate grounds.
Nolan snorted boorishly at the rule. “Basically, what you’re saying is Elias is grounded until further notice?” He called it ludicrous and childish. "We're adults, not damn children." He loathed Alexander treating everyone like children.
“Technically, he’s under house arrest.” The security officer responded smugly. “He’ll be able to move about the estate. He just can’t leave the grounds.” Nolan told the man there wasn’t much difference between the two. The grip on the personnel’s taser tightened. Don’t taze him. Don’t taze him. Don’t taze him.
“I’m going to override Alexander’s rule just this time.” Nolan was told he had no such authority. “Patriarch or not, I’m his older brother. My authority holds just as much weight as his.”
The security officer closed the distance between himself and Nolan. “We answer to Alexander Hightower and him alone.” He spoke condescendingly to Nolan. "Let me make myself clear to you once again." Nolan felt the man's taser pressed into his stomach. He was in dangerous territory. “You are free to go, but Mr. Elias will be going back to his room now.” Nolan sucked his teeth at the man.
Elias pulled Nolan away. "It's all right." He whispered into the man’s ear. “Remember, this is only temporary.” The man patted Elias' hand.
“I’ll visit you in the morning.” Nolan told Elias who merely nodded. He was then escorted away by security while the crowd watched. Nolan turned his ire on the nosy spectators; he scolded everyone. “You pigeons need to stop gawking and find something to do.” He shooed them away angrily. “Go! Get out of here! Now!” The crowd groaned and grumbled as they dispersed in various directions.
Nolan closed Leland’s door behind him when he and everyone left. He would have the housekeepers clean the room later. The man stood at one of the hallway windows and watched the sun set. He repeated Elias’ words, “This is only temporary.”
No comments:
Post a Comment