Rich Man

The boy watched me with a jaded hesitance, unwilling to succumb to the belief in the pit of his stomach. And I knew it was there, lingering in the deepest depths of his psyche; that positive knowledge of the truth to my words. Neither of us could deny the pain beyond the chemistry, that poisonous attraction that had the two of us at odds with ourselves and everything we were once self-assured of.

With sullen eyes, he refused to acknowledge my words with nothing more than a bitter statement. "I can take care of myself, thanks."

"You're not good enough to defend against something like this," I shot back, full confidence behind my words.

He turned the key in the ignition, but refused to get the car moving until he had successfully snapped back, "She's just a girl--"

"You couldn't save yourself from me--why should I trust you have the mental power to deal with a girl that I didn't even see coming?"

"You had no reason to suspect her," he replied quietly, as if to disregard my blatant putdown on his mental capacity. But Patrice knew; he knew that my words were meant not to insult, but as a truthful word of warning. After all, I was being real. If he couldn't recognize my fraud, he would have an impossible battle ahead of him with her. And he would lose. Same as I'd probably wind up losing him.

My heart twisted in my chest as I bit the knuckle of my bent index finger and gazed out to the passing traffic. The price to pay for successfully blinding them all into cooperation would be my first dose of having a family since the Wainright project's early days. And even then, was I really part of a family? Did I have the strength to give this up, to give up on Patrice, to just walk away when it's all said and done? My mind faltered, his words breaking the foundation of my blooming ideas and questions. Thankfully so, as I was beginning to intimidate myself; a rare occurrence that acted as poison to the confidence crucial to our performance.

"You couldn't have known she was who she was. If what you showed me in that journal or anything you said Blake told you is true, then you just couldn't have known. It's nothing like me and you... Nothing's like that," his voice began to trail off. He paused a moment, eyes glazed as the fogging windshield, his senses clearly at a high caught between frustrated and some other realm of emotion. That was much like Patrice--confusing to the eye, even one so keen as mine.

"What a pair we are," I breathed, forcing my mind clear save for the vision of Winrey's face. Her snarling words echoed there, my personal pledge to be her downfall lighting a proverbial fire in my gut that refused to be extinguished.

While I found it interesting that the boy would keep to himself for the rest of the car ride, I found it a greater issue still that he cut himself off in his spiel about "the two of us". It was clear he had words at his tongue or, at very least, in his throat, but he chose for whatever reason to leave them be. I figured that I knew regardless, what he would say. Still, though, the potential words in his mouth had me slightly baffled. Perhaps, as my greatest hunch would suggest, he was going to remind of the feelings he once had. Or even just bring up the fact that we both, at one point, were attracted to one another. Given any form of leeway, I would have probably been too speechless to take advantage of the moment and attempt to make amends.

I shook my head, giving my eyes a subtle roll. It took a quick mental note that I was standing in a crowded living room of people to reawaken my predatory senses. Patrice had left my side long since we had made our entrance, his primary focus one obviously perturbed Matt. While he handled examining the normally bouncing blonde, I took to mix and mingling with various men throughout the room. Curiosity lead me to the likes of Milan, who was pretty much reciting a Lonely Island song with two other guys.

As soon as their were finished loudly announcing their poor singing skills to the world, I somehow became the center of debate. "So you and Bergy..."

"What about him?" I shot back, smartly taking a lazy sip from my can of Seven Up.

The boy peered down at me, curiosity powering his half smile.

Knowledge powered mine.

"Come on... Matty said you guys are.... Y'know." I only stared at him blankly before he continued, "You guys finally hooked up? A few weeks ago I might have been upset," he chuckled, "But now it just makes perfect sense. It's about damn time."

I couldn't help but scratch the back of my neck awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah... We're uh... Potentially an item. He hasn't officially asked me out or anything. I don't plan on him doing anything, though," I elaborated, "I don't really know how long more I'll be staying with Lex so... Maybe for both our sakes, a relationship isn't super smart."

"Yeah, that's true," he shrugged, "But who knows, right? Weirder shit's happened."

You have no idea... I only smiled and nodded. "I guess there's hope for him, yet."

"Speak of the devil," Milan grinned, watching as the boy we were lightly discussing made his way in from the outer balcony. The blinds were drawn for whatever reason, leaving the vast majority naive to he and Matt outside. I suppose Milan noticed nothing but the boy himself making his way through the crowd, eyes scanning with great caution. However, what I saw raised alarm in the forefront of my mind.

Eyes unable to focus, brow still slightly knit. Hands terse at his sides... Body language also stressed. Something happened. I need to get him alone. Now. "I um," I shook my head, leaning slightly and promptly correcting my somehow unbalanced footing. Milan's gaze snapped to me as my fingers touched down gingerly on my forehead. My eyes snapped closed. Thinking I would fall, he put a large hand on my shoulder to try and steady me. I braced myself against his arm.

"Wow, Ray, you alright?"

The name almost sounded foreign to me for the briefest of moments.

"I think I'm alright... I just got dizzy there for a second. Weird."

"Do you need to go outside or something?"

I began to shake my head, but balanced myself. Patrice had conveniently come by, watching me carefully. We locked eyes. Something just seemed to trigger. He stopped, but as if he was about to walk clear passed the two of us. The rest of the process was a beautifully seamless string of wit I felt both rather proud of and somewhat guilty for. While I faked dizziness, Patrice gave Milan a glance.

His eyes locked for a fraction of a second with the glass of alcohol in Milan's hand. The larger man's focus remained trained on me long enough to not catch the glance. Had I not been the perfect second-long distraction, I would have smirked. Patrice watched me with concerned eyes, "You should get out of here. You've been like this since before dinner started. I think you might be coming down with something." After a short pause, he turned slightly toward Milan. "You wanna take her or me?"

"Nah, man, I've been drinking. You should take her. She came here with you, anyway."

Patrice glanced at me before nodding to follow. "Alright, I'll take her home."

I nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'm not feeling that great. Let's head out." Before I could quite leave his earshot, I turned on my heel and smiled in Milan's direction. He smiled too, raising his glass to me as I followed behind the boy whose nerves could be sensed in the night air.

The moment we were a safe distance from the building itself, Patrice's edge continued to grow sharper. "This is the part where you learn to relax, no matter the dire complexities or the blunt-force of the information in your possession," I let out calmly, well aware of his state of mind. Albeit, I hadn't the slightest clue as to what he knew that I didn't, but there wasn't the slightest doubt in my mind that I would soon find out.

He practically sped through the now rainy streets to get us back to his apartment. While I had been there a handful of times, there was something about the nature of this visit that had me even more on edge than I should have been. Knowing full well that I was playing the roles of puppeteer, mentor, and victim, I couldn't afford to waste energy on petty nervousness. This was especially considering the fact that Patrice was on my side.

Once behind closed doors, he wordlessly kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket on the couch. I followed without hesitation, making myself comfortable leaning against the wall across from him. The hazy moonlight and utter, dooming silence provided a perfect thinking space. His open window gave me a prime view of the buzzing city, blurring lights falling victim to a particularly heavy downpour. I was willing to wait all night if it meant him finally speaking his mind. And that meant me squeezing all of his thoughts out of him whether he liked it or not.

"We need a plan."

"Is that what had you all worked up?" I commented shortly, not breaking my gaze outside.

"One of two issues, actually."

"Tell me the second issue and I'll provide as many answers as I can."

"Ter--Er... Winrey sent Matt a text that had him all kinds of confused. I read it too," he paused. I could feel his eyes on me. "I don't know what she's doing, but... I wrote it in a draft on my phone. I don't think he saw." Seconds later, he was fiddling with his Blackberry, no doubt finding the message.

"Wait, you said she texted him?" I inquired.

He nodded, locking eyes with mine. "Yeah, she said, 'Pay attention to Roark. She's not who she says she is.' Why?"

My brow furrowed for a brief moment. There was something wrong with such a simple move. A text message? That just seemed so unsophisticated for someone I remembered to be just so scarily intelligent. "I don't know where she'd go with such a simple move."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. This is the girl I've talked up, played up for God-knows how long. She knows I know how intelligent she is. She's someone of almost higher mental capability than me or even the guys who taught us everything we know... Why she simply starts this with a text..." Scratching my head, I took in a deep breath. "Maybe... Maybe it's not about the text's contents," I proposed with a hint of confidence. The gears of my mind were turning now with my body. Eyes locked blankly in the nothingness of the floor, I touched my fingers curiously to my lips. "Were they close at--"

"He has to be her way in," the boy snapped in a moment of realization, "He's got to be who she's trying to come in by. I mean he still had her number in his phone. He was the only one who had a remotely stable relationship with her from the get-go. But I don't get why she doesn't just tell everyone who you are and what you're doing."

"Nah, she wouldn't be so bold. Plus I think she also understands that just spouting to the world what I've been doing isn't as effective as actually weaseling in and planting the seed, so to speak. It'd hurt more if she regains trust and then blames me for all of the issues she chooses to create."

"So what--like she gets back in with Matt?"

"It's gotta come a few ways. I'm thinking she'll make ends with Matt and we'll just say by default, Matt'll convince Avery she's alright again. Then it'll be Blake who comes out about seeing her, maybe as friends or something based on whether or not it's worth it to him to hurt Lex. I wouldn't put it past Winrey to have him fucking brainwashed to the point where he breaks Lex's heart. He has no idea she's so in love with him anyway."

"What about Looch, though? He's not gonna crack, no way."

"He won't have to. She'll have destroyed Lex through Blake. Guaranteed Milan is going to be a fair share pissed off with anyone associated positively with Winrey. He's recoverable, I think. The only problem is that the second Blake pulls the trigger, assuming that her plan is to have him hurt Lex, she may or may not take her anger out on me, since she hired me and right there I failed my duty."

"So it'd already be over for you if that happens. Well, from the business standpoint, anyway."

"There's no business to end."

"But she's paying you."

I shook my head, "I gave the money back."

The boy became quieted, watching me for a moment of contemplation. Low and behold, after a moment of studying me, his face seemed to light up with pleasant surprise. "So you weren't lying to me," he coaxed out of his own mouth, "You were actually telling the truth..."

"It's like I said, kid, I never lied to you. Sure, I bent the truth slightly, but I'll be damned if I didn't tell you nothing but truth."