Rich Man

"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."

My words clung desperately to the night air, a sudden cold chasing the fibers of my spine until I felt goosebumps fall to my fingertips. I folded my arms across my chest, turning my back to the boy in order to position myself in front of the open window, rain pounding down upon the city below. "I understand your struggle with believing me," I started once more, "But should you disobey the very things I say or your own current state of mind, we're done."

When he didn't reply, I allowed my eyes a moment to shut. The pitter-patter of falling rain allotted the room an aura of peace in the midst of all chaos. The cold air both chilled and refreshed, stress in my face I hadn't the slightest clue existed suddenly unwinding. "Believe it or not, my standards for you were so much lower... You truly are exceedingly intelligent. And I don't mean that in exaggeration."

"What are you getting at?" he asked softly, shifting his weight. The couch creaked. He must have laid down. The gentility of his voice, genuine with curiosity, lead me to continue.

"There's a few things I need to explain; a few more things brewing," I stated calmly, finding myself slowly taking a seat on the thickly carpeted floor. "I didn't just out of the blue decide to spill my guts out to you about all this."

"Well no shit."

"I've been tossing around some plans despite your existence since I realized she's more than likely got me by the balls I don't have. In short, figure yourself out of the equation."

"Weren't you just drawling on about how she's going to target me?" he asked with an apparent laugh in the back of his throat.

"This isn't a joke, Bergeron."

"No, I'm aware. You just seem to be full of more and more shit by the minute."

"Well," I breathed, shaking my head, "If you'd let me explain my thoughts, maybe your feeble little brain will be able to make something of this alleged shit."

"Smartass."

"You, too, fit into the category. I wouldn't be calling anyone names now." Clearing my throat, I gathered myself. "Anyway, the deal is as follows. She's got two possible paths. I'm the ultimate goal. And yeah, while you do matter, she'd hypothetically have you out of the picture pretty fast should she find a way to fuck up your trust in me. That being said, don't listen to a damn word that snake puts out, no matter how bad or true it may come across."

There was a mild shuffling in the background. Footsteps sounded softly in the carpet. And though I knew he approached behind me, I remained in my position on the floor, speaking with a light voice. "I don't know if I'm right at all. She could try to mess with you or not, but... At the end of the day, I never wanted you or anyone in this kind of mess. And I know and understand that it's my fault she's now hellbent on making you all at least remotely fucked up, but I just... I couldn't do it alone."

"Don't get so soft on me now," he coaxed, voice looming up above me, just over my shoulder it seemed.

I dared not budge. After a long pause, hands shaking, I let my mouth hang open until the words fell out. "...I'm scared."

"Don't be," he dropped with a dull thud, his body following his words. Sitting beside me, he rested against the wall just beneath the window so he could get a god look at my tired face. "You're the one telling me these crazy theories and plans of yours. And the more I think about the possibilities you're throwing out that this bitch could do to us, the more I'm seeing how good you are and how doomed she is."

"Bergs, there's so much she can do and so little that we can do. And we're going to have to make all the right moves, say all the right things when the time comes. And we don't even know when that time is." My head drooped slightly as I slowly shook my head.

A hand caught my cheek, lifting my gaze to his. "Well when the time comes, she's all alone. No matter how much she tries to convince you that you're all alone, it's just lies. Like how she's going to absolutely ruin everyone just to make you look bad? Bullshit. You've got the plans in your head. No matter how much you doubt yourself now--I hate to say this--you have yet to be wrong. It's kind of scary, really..."

When his hand didn't drop from my cheek, I found the blood in my veins beginning to color the area he was touching. "I'm sorry."

The brunette shook his head at me in such a way that left me more satisfied than confused. "If I've learned anything, it's that according to you, she doesn't like waiting. She makes decisions too fast, which seems to be where she makes her biggest mistakes. I'd say she's going to try to do this in one big swoop. Maybe two. I'll say each swoop is a day or an event of some kind. I mean, we've got some games coming up, but nothing spectacular. What do you think?"

"She'll probably wind up using Blake to create something. I'm already figuring it'll be something her showing up at Blake's place when we're all hanging out. Either that, or making an appearance while we're out. It's got to be something so simple. Given option A," I straightened my body up, his hand having long returned to his lap, "I'd say everyone will expect an answer from Blake. So I guess in that situation we would have to be prepared to counter Blake's explanation of her. By then she'll have him conditioned likely to tell the truth at very most just about herself, her job, all that. I think no matter what, she's going to try to get Matt to figure it out on his own or something of that ilk... God, there's just so many possibilities," I groaned.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm way too tired to sit on my floor all night discussing this," he replied after clearing his throat. Rising to his feet, he offered me a and and lifted me with ease from my spot on the floor, now matted down where my butt once was. "Want me to take you back to Lex's or do you want to stay here?"

"Eh," I shrugged, "Let them use their imaginations. You can go to sleep, but I'm going to stay up a little while longer. Do you have a pen and some paper I can borrow? I want to see if writing this out will help any."

---

Light rustling; the stir of paper, shuffling and cuffed against the desktop rang through my senses. I went to turn in place, but instead was confronted by two hands and an immediate gust of cool air to my back. The time of night was irrelevant at that point. From the briefest second of cracking an eye open, sunlight appeared to be breaking the early boundaries of morning. The thought of day time was almost appalling in my desperation for slumber.

As quickly as I found myself engulfed in the warmth of blankets, my eyes seemed to peek open of their own accord. Black curtains fended off sunlight fairly well, the well-air conditioned bedroom cave-like in ambiance. I couldn't help but smile as I realized exactly where I was. He must have moved me off the couch this morning... Makes me hate myself even more for getting in his head.

I was about the let that thought trail off until I noticed a stack of paper laying beside me, all fastened together via paper clip. Over the first page was a post-it reading, "You're fucking crazy. A genius, but crazy." He'll be able to pull this off. It's like inception, I suppose; the plan within a plan. Patrice wont have figured it out until that crucial time comes. And even then, it wont matter, because we'll have won... I hope.

My thoughts lingered, body warm with sleep. I spent a great sum of time then, lying on my side, contemplating and double-checking my own thoughts. These plans at hand, they were tricky as I had been for the last half year. Though I struggled to see flaw, to see any p[possibility of failure, I was forced to sit up in my own nervousness and draw it out.

I first hunted down a pen, then sat back in my own spot of warmth beneath his soft sheets. My small pile of planning papers were stacked neatly in my lap. Rereading through every word for the fourth or fifth time, I declared myself seemingly correct. However, out of need for more reassurance, I found a blank sheet of paper in the stack and drew out several layers as if in the form of a wedding cake, perhaps.

The largest tier was home to every person involved. I placed a check mark beside each name as I confirmed that their scenarios would be covered and that they had been thought thoroughly through. The next tier up contained every conflict I had covered that could remotely involve "Tera". I stopped at this tier, recalling that I had made a note to myself the previous night to call a favor in. That's probably why he was calling me a genius, I thought to myself, smiling.

Drawing a third tier up, I filled its contents with the plan Patrice was aware of. The final, smallest tier, contained my ultimate plans. Once I made sure the final two tiers coincided completely, I promptly folded the other papers and got out of bed. I took the graph I had just drawn on and, after fiddling through the junk door at his bedside, found a box of matches and made my way to his balcony.

The morning air was crisp against my wrinkled clothes, sun bright in the place of parting rain clouds. The smell of fresh, after-rain gravel caught my attention from below as I struck a match and gently touched it to the corner of the folded paper in my hand. White material fizzled, browning before falling to ash between my fingers. It dissipated into the air until all that was left were the grey flecks on his balcony floor. A few sweeps off the edge with my hand and all trace was completely gone. Thanks to my memory, though, the graphic image was burnt into my retinas for permanent capture.

My confidence exceeded my own expectations, but it was no bother. I fixed the boys bed with a sly smile, humming a soft tune to myself I had heard once on the radio. After finding my shoes and gathering my things, I was out the door and flagging down a cab. I knew he may have been expecting me to sleep in until he got home, but there was no room for that now. I pulled my cell from my pocket and scrolled through the rather shortened list of contacts before I stopped at a familiar name. "Jeremy," I stated his name as soon as the boy answered his phone, all the while giving the driver directions.

"Wait, is this Sarah --er-- Amanda?"

"Surprise, surprise."

"Whatcha need? Been wondering when I'd hear from you again. How's the business?"

"Business is getting down to the wire. It's why I called."

"Shoot."

"Remember how I saved your ass last year?"

"How can I forget. You saved my reputation."

"Honey, I saved a lot of things. Anyway, I'm cashing in my favor. Don't worry, it's a doozey."