Responsibility

The windows of the upper floors looked out on the sprawled city with its towers that pierced the dark sky. With lights from many sources, the city looked like a gleaming gem that shone beside a ribbon of light that weaved its way around the buildings. Many in the past had commented on the scene, be it compliment or complaint. However, the single occupant of the room paid the view no mind. Instead, he stood near the low-lying sofa, hands clenching and unclenching as he stared at the screen that depicted the upcoming events. The slight hitch to his breathing was the only allowance that Vincent Reynolds gave to acknowledge the day. He knew there was plenty of time after to grieve.

Vince sank onto the seat, fingers tangling in his dark hair as he glared at the floor. In just a few hours, he knew he would stand in the spotlight as members of the board trotted him out to parade him in front of the cameras. He would stand uncomfortable at the podium while they spouted pretty words about his family’s achievements before drawing attention to the company and everything they had done to keep the legacy alive. Almost a year to the day, he knew, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. He hated the circus that occurred, but it had to be done, so said Martin Jones, his mentor and oldest friend.

Some days, Vince wondered why he even argued. It wasn’t as if anyone would acknowledge his own thoughts on the matter. All they seemed to care for was the idea that they knew his parents far better than he ever had. What did they know about the times he spent curled up on his mother’s lap as she read a story to him? What did they know about his father’s attempts at cooking, only to have a near disaster? Then, to hear someone hint that he might have had something to do with his parents’ death, as if he wanted it to happen, was too much.

With only his mentor as his protector, Vince felt alone among the sharks that infested his world. Many circled, waiting for the fresh scent of blood before descending like a ravenous horde. To them he was merely the decoration, the only son of Reynolds Innovations that would fold if not for his stubborn board who kept him in line. They saw him as the face, the new direction, but not one with any new vision that would last. They chose not to see his designs for freighters and transports. They stayed blind to his actions and plans.

Despite his twenty-four years, Vince sometimes felt older, especially when confronted by people who implied that he was only where he was at because of his parents’ deaths. Some viewed him as the instrument; others saw him as reaping the benefits. After all, he had wealth at his fingertips. He hadn’t toiled to earn it. To them he was the sole beneficiary.

Vince tensed when the elevator doors slid open, but it was only Martin Jones come to usher him out the doors and into the waiting private vehicle. The older man wore a charcoal gray suit with faint blue pinstripes, and he had a white tie as the only concession to the day. His warm smile reassured Vince that all was as well as it could be. Rather than wait for Vince to move, Martin crossed the floor with even strides, as if he had already slipped into his familiar role without prompting.

“Hello, my boy,” said Martin, resting a hand on Vince’s shoulder. The warm weight of the hand was more grounding than any words, Vince decided. Martin’s brows drew together as he took in Vince’s expression. “Are you ready?” Martin asked gently.

“Yes, Marty,” Vince said. He straightened up and took a deep breath, tucking away his memories as carefully as delicate heirlooms. Tonight or tomorrow would be soon enough to think of them again. “Will it be long?”

Martin smiled. “Of course not. I’ll make sure of it, Vinny.”

Vince nodded. He stood still as Martin took the tie draped over his shoulder and quickly fixed it in place. The man frowned at the cord of leather Vince wore, but said nothing as he clapped a hand to Vince’s shoulder. He had seen the cord before and accepted it as one eccentricity. Then he steered Vince toward the elevator, already detailing the necessary information that Vince should know as well as what to expect and do once in front of the cameras.

Vince nodded along to Martin’s words, already knowing his responsibility. He would get through the day, he would smile, he would grit his teeth and accept the condolences, but afterwards, he planned to spend time for him. Vince wondered if Martin would approve before he decided that did not matter.

***

Michelle blew a kiss to her reflection as she walked out the door, confident that tonight was going to be fun despite the hassle of the day. The last complaint about her services had been disappointing and had made the boss point out the rules again. She had not been the one who nearly dropped the glass onto the man’s lap, and she explained how it was not her fault. The boss refused to listen, but at least she hadn’t been punished for someone else’s mistake. That was always irritating.

After almost two months away from the university, Michelle had decided that telling her parents about her little indiscretion was out of the question. After all, it was not as though she had meant to threaten anyone; it just sounded as if she did. It was also not her fault that the person in question had been seriously injured. Life sometimes threw strange wrenches into the works, which was why she had faced expulsion instead of the expected reprimand. Very unfair, in her opinion, but she had decided not to fight against the decision. Instead, she tucked away her regret, flashed a smile, and decided that she had other opportunities that would arise from such an occasion.

For now, Michelle did what she could to keep her parents uninformed. If that meant avoiding the topic, then so be it. At least they hardly seemed interested in what she did for which she was grateful. The simple thought of them asking made her uncomfortable. Of course, they kept to themselves more often, which was good. She did have her own worries beyond what they might think of her lack of initiative. For example, Michelle had to decide on what fun she could have without arousing their suspicion or being caught. Not that it was hard when they were half way across the world to visit her aunts and uncles. She also had to figure out a new career opportunity. Credits might do her in if she was not careful.

However, she did enjoy her evenings, which she was not willing to compromise. Instead, Michelle bided her time, decided the right entertainment, and went out for a night. Certainly, there were nights that it was not possible, but she planned around them; otherwise, she should not bother timing her evenings. For the past few nights, she ran into a lack of amusement, which had her reevaluating her choices. The thought of losing those evenings sat ill with her, and so she sought out new avenues of fun.

There had to be something more amusing in the western district. Surely, the latest entertainment was released for the populace’s consumption. If not, Michelle figured there were always the nightclubs in Darken Prime to lose a few blissful hours. And there were always the theaters. Each show she loved played against extravagant stages with the sounds flowing together. Then, there were other events and celebrations, each taking place in different districts around the city.

In some areas, a celebration for lovers occurred, the date to which was fast approaching. Actually, it was in a month. Michelle rarely had interest in the day. She had an idea of what that celebration incurred, but never celebrated it. She merely noted the day and did her best to discover what would best work on certain people. The better tips were always a welcome relief. It meant prolonging her parents’ knowledge of her failure. She pushed the thought aside with ease, knowing such headaches best dealt with after a good night or not at all.

In the meantime, Michelle planned to have fun. After she finished her shift, she would look for entertainment. She trusted her neighbor, Ashley Hudson, had the latest news for the upcoming events that might prove to be worthwhile. Ashley might even have tickets. The thought warmed her.

Once outside, Michelle headed for the transit stop on the corner that would take her to the café, where she would spend a few hours. She lifted her head and smiled at the sky, pulling her jacket a little closer. Tonight or tomorrow night, it was all promising, she knew. Twenty-one, gorgeous, and ready for adventure, that was her motto. Laughing, Michelle stepped onto the transit prepared for another day.

***

The flashes of lights momentarily blinded Vince as he stood by Martin’s side. The older man had a hand on his shoulder, the grip firm and grounding. Then Martin stepped forward, hand dropping to his side as he smiled for the cameras with practiced ease. While Martin discussed the latest plans, Vince listened to the growing irritation that few would ever notice when the questions circled back to Vince’s last escapade, which had been over six months ago. Instead of directly answering, Martin gave the crowd another charming smile and brought the focus back to the latest unveiling of their newest comm. system for transports. On cue, Vince gave a short explanation before Martin took control of the conversation once more.

During Martin’s discussion, Vince thought back to other times when he would stand beside his mentor or his parents while waiting for the end of the questions. He remembered Lara Grant, friend and ex-girlfriend, who had sometimes attended the events with him. She would say something that kept his thoughts away from the cameras that circled him, usually something flirty and distracting that would cause a few raised eyebrows if anyone heard, but it was enough.

Vince missed Lara. She had been a spot of fun during his high school stint, until she left for the University of Poseidon. The mutual break up was a decision he sometimes regretted, but it was for the best. Long distance would be difficult for them. Of course, they remained in touch, sharing tidbits about their days whenever possible. Hearing about her new relationship and its end hadn’t been easy, but he was there for her because they would always be friends, so he promised her. Her last message reassured him that all was well and reminded him that she had not forgotten him the way he had often feared. According to Lara, she was due back on Acheron soon, but hadn’t told him the when yet.

“Come along, Vinny,” Martin said, voice lowering as he stepped away from the lights and cameras. “We have work to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Vince replied, and he lengthened his strides to match Martin’s own.

Once the doors slid shut behind them, Vince felt the tension ease. He released a sigh and slumped against the elevator’s walls, head tipped back to watch the numbers flash past, leading down toward the labs. The soothing quiet wrapped around him. After the meeting, Vince planned to spend time in the workshop. Then he was going to take a day off, but that was a foolish desire. He knew he would probably be stuck for a week before finding time. Unlike previous years, he could not hide as he once did.

“There’s no need to worry, Vince,” Martin said, interrupting his thoughts. He ran a soothing hand over Vince’s shoulders. “You did fine today.”

Vince nodded. He feared that if he opened his mouth the only thing that would escape would be a scream. Martin did not deserve it. He was simply trying to help. Vince returned to staring at the numbers and wished the week already done.

***

Vince settled on the chair beside the couple and proceeded to ignore the rest of the world as best he could by flagging down one of the waiters. He could sense Martin’s disapproval despite the man not even being around, but Vince did not care. After the week he had had, Vince figured he needed the chance to forget at least. And if he could not, he still had tomorrow night to try. At least the sense of urgency had faded the longer he was away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, as the glass was set before him.

The lack of guards was freeing, in a way, but stupid in all others. Vince did not care. At the moment, all he really needed was just night away from everything he knew. He needed one night where he could forget the deadlines, the microscopic focus of the board, the pressure of looming deadlines, and memories of Martin’s worried expressions. Just one night where he could remember his parents without the involvement of others.

Vince wondered if Lara was back in the city yet. She would be his best bet in keeping the loneliness at bay. Of course, Lara would probably point out some of his more blatant idiocy, such as leaving his guards. But she was fun and always up for some of his harebrained schemes. Sometimes she provided the voice of wisdom, and sometimes she was neck deep in trouble with him. The wildness of her smile hovered in his mind as she raced ahead of him, urging him to follow.

Tonight he just needed help to get out of his head. He knew that Lara would accept the reason without condemnation, which was unlike Martin. However, she would probably have convinced him to do his brooding back in his home. His parents would never want him to be here without guards.

“Damn,” Vince said. Then he took a gulp of his drink.

***

Tousled hair tumbled in front of the man’s face as he bowed his head. His slumped shoulders and hasty order was only part of the reason she even noticed him. Michelle smirked to herself, believing that she had found the perfect match to her plans. Once her parents learned about her lack of attendance at the university, they would cut off her funds. Truly ill luck all around, she knew, but that was no matter to her. If she could convince someone to join her, Michelle might save herself from boredom at least.

Of course, with Ms. Rebecca Cross and her rather ill timed inquisitiveness, Michelle had found it quite tedious to block the questions about what happened. After all, they were hardly friends. They hadn’t any courses together, but apparently that did not stop Ms. Cross, who felt she needed to know why and what happened. Michelle begged off whenever she could. She was not the one who had caused the disaster that occurred on university grounds. It was simply ill luck that had people recalling her words and misconstrued them as threats to Alec Hold. It was terrible that people connected her to Alec Hold’s injuries as well, but such was the way of the world.

The man shifted, glancing at his wrist, as if he had an old timepiece there. Few wore them, but that he did only intrigued Michelle. She had not met a person who preferred them. Of course, there was always a first time, she decided, eyeing the man as he ran fingers through dark hair that fell back into its ruffled state. Her own fingers would stand out stark against his hair, she knew, her own pale digits whiter against near black. They would look perfect against her sheets. The image decided her.

Michelle was about to introduce herself, but a flurry of activity at the entrance stilled her. She watched with a faint frown, intrigued despite herself at the disturbance. A man older than the usual clientele strode into the room with two people trailing after him. He made a cursory scan of the room as he headed for the man Michelle had first noted. Pity that, she decided, looking away and trying to find someone else.

***

By the time Martin arrived, Vince had successfully downed enough alcohol that he was having trouble standing. He blinked when Martin’s hands settled on his forearms. Then Martin’s shoes appeared in his field of vision. The high shine of the shoes reflected blurs of people’s bodies. Vince lifted his head that felt stuffed full of wool, slowly blinking at Martin’s worried face.

“Marty?” he asked.

Martin sighed. “What am I to do with you, Vinny?” he said, sounding almost fond, before he helped Vince to his feet. Vince grumbled under his breath, but held onto Martin’s shoulders in order to walk to the door where Marx and Rhodes waited. “Let’s get you home, son,” Martin murmured. “We’ll forget about this incident.”

“Marty, don’t leave me,” Vince mumbled, clutching Martin closer. He peered up at the man’s face, jutting out his lower lip just a little. “Please.”

Martin patted his back as if reassuring a frightened child; it was probably what Martin saw, Vince realized after a moment. “Of course not, Vinny,” Martin said. “I won’t do that.”

Then they passed the guards, and Marx and Rhodes moved, assessing the crowd with quick glances as they headed for the private vehicle of deepest night. It took Martin a tad longer to pour Vince into the back seat while Marx moved to drive and Rhodes took a seat across from them. Martin whispered reassuring nonsense that lulled Vince to sleep, clutching the other man’s shirt.