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    For the Republic
    For the Republic
    For the Republic
    Ebook454 pages6 hours

    For the Republic

    By David Gearing

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Recent high school graduate Jakob Diggs could care less about his high school plans. His father, Secretary of Defense Alec Diggs, already has his plans made for him. Reservist, then a future political career.

    But when Jakob's mother moves him to a safer location, he becomes an unwitting victim of a secret plot to undermine the Republic and reveal the government's secrets for everyone to see.

    Now confronted with the truth behind the nonstop media and the lies, Jakob finds himself opposite of his father, but with a common goal: save the Republic at all costs.

    David Gearing is the author of fifteen novels across various genres. He lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest with his partner.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDavid Gearing
    Release dateSep 14, 2016
    ISBN9781536592535
    For the Republic
    Author

    David Gearing

    David Gearing is a recent transplant from the harsh Arizona deserts to the green forests of the Pacific Northwest. He plots, he games, he pretends to be his own living room rockstar when no one is looking. His other books range from various genres from thrillers to gothic horror and beyond. You can find him at his webpage DavidGearingBooks.com or at his publisher's website AkusaiPublishing.com

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      Book preview

      For the Republic - David Gearing

      CHAPTER ONE

      BLUE FLOURESCENT LIGHTS FLICKERED on with the sudden flip of a switch. The lamps hung from the ceiling, a cement ceiling on top of gray brick walls. Bare. Dusty. There was a smell of dust and markers coming from somewhere in the room. Dark holes, the size of screws, indicated where there may have been a bulletin board or a VizScreen may have been firmly held up against the wall.

      Set him here, a gruff voice said.

      Alec Diggs let the man sit down slowly on a leather chair. As Secretary of Defense for the Republic, he thought he was aware of every last room in this building.

      But this was different. Almost hidden in plain sight.

      Alec rubbed his hand through his thin, close-shaved black beard and took a step back from the captured man. His insignias and uniforms were reminiscent of the Engineers. An orange triangle with a brown hammer laying across it. The new insignias were stars, six points. Not triangles. It had been years since he had even seen any of the old uniforms. They were ordered to be destroyed upon the new adoption.

      Above all, he shouldn’t be anywhere near the city walls. And certainly not with those old rags that hung from his shoulders like a trash bag.

      The Republic took great care to keep its people in the best situation possible. Room allowances. Clothing allowances. Vacation. Celebrations. The Republic valued its citizens.

      And that’s what made this part of his job that much more painful.

      I will ask this once more, Alec said. Why are you in city limits?

      Fuck you, the man said through gritted teeth. His jaw was almost a perfect square. His hair had been buzzed recently, and sloppily done. Bits of long hair hung from the edges of his neck and at his temples. Blond hair by the way it shined in the light. The boy was youngish, a recent addition to the Engineers but that didn’t make sense. His outfit was at least twenty years old. Ripped, shredded. A hand-me-down at best.

      At worst he was a thief. A poser. And that was punishable.

      Alec looked to his supervisor—the personal secretary to the President Joel Paddic. Paddic nodded and looked away.

      Alec drew his hand back and unleashed a backhand across the man’s cold, bony face.

      The man responded with a whimper and grunt. But as he turned his head over to stare at Alec, he smiled and swallowed the spit.

      If he’s not going to talk, Paddic said, then simply shoot the bastard and be done with it.

      Alec gripped his gun but kept it safely sheathed in its holster on his hip. You heard the man, Alec said. You know where this could go.

      We can see it all, the man said. You think this will last forever? The man’s smile erupted into a high-pitched laughter that echoed in the dark, old office building and drove shivers down Alec’s spine.

      Alec looked over to the secretary. Sir?

      We don’t have time for this shit, Paddic said. You know what to do.

      Paddic exited the room and closed the door behind him with a sharp click.

      The flickering blue lights tilted slightly from the vibrations of the room. This caught Alec by surprise for only a moment. This room felt older than the Republic. Something about it—the lighting, the concrete bricks—everything felt ancient by modern standards.

      Try as he might, he couldn’t trace exactly where this was hidden. Too many elevators and slides and corridors to keep track. If he had to come back, there was no doubt he’d ever make it back again.

      Alec unbuttoned the thick black buttons on his ebony blazer and loosened his red tie. It is way too early for this shit, he said. But if this is what needs to happen, then this is what needs to happen.

      The man began to laugh again, shouting something incoherent into the closed vault of a room.

      Stop it, Alec demanded.

      The crying and laughing turned into a scream.

      Amidst the echoes, Alec heard a message: It’s all over. That message, broken up into pieces, scattered amidst the man’s insanity.

      You were a mistake, Alec said. You should have never made it into the Engineers.

      The man’s laugh crept down into bursts of chuckles interspersed with bouts of extended silences.

      The erratic behavior and unexpected shrieks and screams drew the hairs on Alec’s forearms to full attention. He never thought he had scared easily, but this was beyond chilly.

      This was insanity. Criminality in all its rawness.

      Alec’s hands clenched into tight fists.

      He took out his gun from the holster, keeping it high enough for the man to see it clearly.

      You’d be doing me a service, man.

      Alec’s grip released on the handle and he let it slide out of his hand on top of the nearby desk.

      The man’s laughter and smiles had turned to looks of concern. This insane fucker’s face was a pretty one, but concern and fear had warped it into something of a mass of skin and sweat.

      Alec smiled back, letting his head block the light just above them.

      This was power.

      This was control.

      Alec pulled back a tight fist and held it still.

      The Engineer flinched.

      But not seeing anything, he pried one eye open, then the other.

      And that’s when Alec unleashed his fist into the man’s jaw.

      The man and the chair he sat on were flung backward from the force of the hit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Alec advanced toward him.

      I want you to see me when I beat you, Alec said. You will keep your eyes open for this. He could feel the bruises in his knuckles. If he were honest with himself, he loved the feeling, the tension in his muscles. In a few hours he would need to attend his son’s graduation. Swollen knuckles would demand attention.

      Certainly Falena would ask questions.

      Do I have your attention? Alec said.

      The man only stared, his mouth wide open. Silent.

      Fine, Alec said. He gripped the gun in his hand and fired off two rounds into the man’s shoulder and chest.

      The loud shots echoed off the walls. The ringing began to turn into a screech in the insides of his head.

      He sighed. This ringing will be in the background for the next few hours.

      The door creaked open.

      Surprised, Alec fired off another shot into the man’s leg.

      A soldier poked his head into the room. Shall I call a cleanup service? he asked dryly.

      And for a new suit, Alec said. This one’s a little dirty. Alec dropped the hand pistol into the soldier’s hands and turned down into the hallway. Tell the good secretary that I’m ready to go home.

      CHAPTER TWO

      JAKOB HAD ONLY BEEN IN the bathroom for a few minutes before he came back to his bedroom and realized there was a rather large present waiting at the foot of his bed. It was a long yet shallow green box with a purple ribbon folded around the box into a bow placed neatly on top. Jakob picked up the box and shook it. It felt heavy, but not large.

      Usually when he came out of a long shower, Jakob expected to get yelled at for not cleaning up his room, that the posters of rock bands and ironic science posters were too immature for him.

      And it was probably true. But Jakob couldn’t admit that. Not that he was incapable, but his mother had controlled his every move, shaping him into the next ambassador or general of the Kinova Republic. It was the family business, this political bullshit. And that meant there was only one thing in this enormous box: a suit and tie.

      He rolled his eyes.

      Mother, he said as he carried the box from his bedroom to the living room. I thought we agreed no gifts. He placed the box on the end of the rectangular, cherry wood dinner table and stared at his mother.

      The sights and smells of the room were alien when put together like this. Like watching a spider dance around on a piece of cheesecake. His mother was not one to cook. And when the air smelled like salty brown sugar and maple bacon, it was as confusing as it was delicious.

      She hurried along with the oven, pulling out fully-cooked pancakes and crispy strips of bacon. What? she said. Did you like it? She was a small woman, but her presence was imposing on even the most prominent of senators. Sometimes Jakob could swear he witnessed fear in the eyes of the President himself as they ate dinner together. She had a way of smiling and lowering your self-esteem at the same time.

      Her weapon of choice was guilt and slashing wit. His father had joked that she ought to train their armies for battle with the enemy nations.

      But today, she looked like a future homemaker of the Republic, her dark blond hair pulled up into a tight bun at the end of her head, even sweat gathering around her perfectly shaped gray eyes she had paid a small fortune for.

      His mother had laughed off those jokes, but Jakob detected a hint of sincerity in it all.

      Jakob tapped it nicely on the corner of the table and took a step away. I didn’t open it.

      But you have to. His mother placed everything down in a huff and went to open the box herself. She took great care to open it, pulling on the ribbon gently, watching it unfurl itself. She then folded it neatly along the side of the box and then popped the top of the package open. See? she said.

      Jakob peered over. Yeah, he said, nodding. It’s nice.

      Nonsense, she said. His mother lifted a purple button-down shirt from the box and held it against Jakob’s chest. It’s too large. And not the pretty color of your eyes. I told him dark purple. Not light blue.

      It’s not a light blue, mother. It’s a light purple.

      Who can tell in this light? His mother wrapped the shirt back in the box, but pulled a long, narrow tie from the bottom of the box. At least this is the right color.

      Yes it is, mom. Thank you. Jakob leaned over and kissed his mother. Jakob picked up the fine silk tie and held it up to his neck. He had chosen the green button-down today. It was one of his favorite colors, didn’t pull too tightly at his shoulders despite its age, and it was a special occasion today: his graduation from the academy.

      Now sit down, dear. Put that tie away and sit down.

      Jakob rolled the tie up together and tucked the wad of silk into his pant pocket. There was already a clean white plate at the end of the table. That spot was reserved for his father, but his mother motioned for him to take that spot.

      Jakob did as he was asked. The view from this side of the table was foreign. Even exotic. As a child, he didn’t dare sit over on this edge. He knew better. An unwritten rule of the household.

      His original seat was at the other end of the table and off to the side.

      There was an understood hierarchy of seating. Those of most important were sitting at the head of the table. Everything scaled down to the bottom of the table according to rank.

      His mother sat at the foot of the table.

      Are you sure? Jakob asked.

      Yes, yes, of course, she said. You’re practically an adult. You can sit there for your special day.

      His mother pulled up the long sleeves of her white blouse to just past her wrists. She shoved her hands into yellow oven mitts and pulled the cookie sheet of pancakes and bacon over to the table.

      Help yourself, she said, nudging the largest pieces toward him.

      Jakob could take a hint. He forked them onto his plate and waited for his mother to sit down and eat with him.

      There was just one problem. She seemed to be on autopilot since he stood up. He had wondered if maybe she was part cockroach in the sense that her legs were never connected to her head. They just moved her body from place to place, despite her looking so tired all the time.

      Mother, Jakob said. Sit down.

      His mother pulled the dark blue apron from around her neck and let it drape from her waist. It was an unnatural thing, seeing his mother in the kitchen, especially this flustered.

      She could cook. He remembered the times from before they had the chef.

      Jakob smiled, remembering the gooey cheese sandwiches she would grill for him, cutting them into triangles and then leaving them against a bowl of creamy tomato soup.

      You look happy today, honey, his mother said.

      Jakob snapped out of the memory and watched his mother finally rest her frantic bones in a wooden chair next to him.

      Yes, well, Jakob said. He searched for the words to describe the butterflies and the expectations that he’ll be left alone, but those were lost hopes. I’m just excited. To graduate. He shrugged. You know.

      Oh, I remember. Your father wasn’t quite at the top of his class. Not like you. But he was handsome. And a good leader.

      His mother rested her hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward as if to get up, but Jakob held his hand out to hers. They locked eyes for a moment and she smiled, embarrassed. Her gray eyes looked downward and she pushed a stray lock of dark blonde hair back into place.

      I’m sorry, she said. Go eat, honey.

      You should have some.

      Oh, no, she said. I’ve been picking at it since I started this morning. She sat back and crossed her arms.

      Jakob got the feeling that he was on display in a museum. Maybe even a zoo. He reached over for a fork and sliced a small piece of pancake.

      His mother raised her eyebrows as he took a bite, looking for a reaction. After he smiled, swallowed, and cut off another piece, she continued. I’ve been looking forward to this day for you for a long, long time, she said. Your grandfather would be so proud.

      Not this again. He knew where this was going.

      Mother, please, don’t.

      She seemed to snap out of a temporary trance. Don’t what, dear?

      Don’t this. He waved his fork around like a magic wand. Don’t make this all about him and you.

      I know you barely knew the man, Jakob, but he’d still be proud. That’s all I’m saying.

      Jakob eyed her as he took another bite of the pancake. It had little bits of syrup inside the spongy cake that exploded like little bubbles as he bit into them. Like bursts of maple-flavored caramel.

      It was a sure sign that his mother hadn’t made these herself.

      It was a signature staple of their chef, Gerrald. Still, he appreciated the effort.

      These are good, he said.

      His mother nodded and looked away into the kitchen.

      Jakob followed her eyes, trying to see what she saw.

      But that was the problem. He never could see anything the way she did.

      She was a constant worry-wort, as his grandfather would say. Control freak would be putting it nicely, and she was the topic of conversation whenever she would have dinner parties. The guests spoke about her behind her back, calling her crazy and obsessive compulsive.

      None of those were true. They were corrected and vaccinated against nearly a century ago. His mother was perfect. Warm. Motherly. A little strict.

      But what little boy didn’t need that from time to time? Every six months he’d need a spanking and he was good to go.

      Mother, what’s wrong?

      She finally stood up and pushed in her chair. Nothing, she said. She wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and hurried into the kitchen.

      It was a massive kitchen, with shelf space for damn near every appliance they could ask for. Chef Gerrald had it installed shortly after he arrived at the house. It was a request and a condition of his employment. He appreciated the old technology of espresso makers and toaster ovens. Things from the last century that cooked instead of processed. Heated instead of inducing molecular kinesis.

      And Jakob wanted to appreciate the differences. He really tried. But as far as he could tell, it all cooked the same. Tasted the same.

      But Gerrald had often said that the differences were in the texture and the smells.

      Jakob usually let those conversations die off like the nameless, forgotten people who had invented those devices.

      When are we supposed to go? Jakob shoved the last piece of bite-sized pancake into his mouth and swallowed.

      In about ten-and-a-half minutes, his mother said. I hope you’re not wearing that.

      And why wouldn’t I? Jakob stood up, holding the plate in his hand.

      Put that down, his mother said. Susan will get it later.

      Jakob nodded, doing as his mother said.

      That shirt, his mother said, is ancient. Hideous.

      It was my father’s. He looked down, looking for the same flaws that his mother probably saw in this.

      Yes, well, back when your father was young and handsome as well. She unrolled the apron from her waist and rested it on the counter. And thinner.

      Mother, Jakob said with a little bit of laughter.

      Yes, well, get your jokes out now, she muttered. Your father will be here soon. Then we absolutely have to go. We can’t have the salutatorian late for his graduation.

      Jakob stood up and searched for his shoes near the front door.

      And if you tell your father I said any of that, I’ll kill you myself, his mother hollered out to him.

      Jakob smiled and nodded.

      Heavy boot steps echoed down the front entry way, loud enough to hear through the massive front doors of the house.

      Speak of the devil, Jakob shouted out.

      The door cracked open and his father peered through the gap. His smile poked through his thin black beard that became his signature. There’s my boy, he said.

      Mother’s losing her mind again, Jakob said. We should go soon or she’ll pop.

      "What else is new?’ his father said. He stepped through the doorway completely, dressed in his black suit with steel blue button-down shirt. Part of the Republic governmental uniform. Black suit jacket. Black pants. Steel blue shirt. Red tie.

      The design was simple and straight.

      He had seen the old uniforms from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries from his historypad in school. All of those buttons and bars and colors all over the place. It was almost as gaudy as the fashion runways in DC.

      At least from what Jakob had seen in photographs. Back before the travel bans and warnings for those of official blue blood.

      How goes the meetings? Jakob said.

      His father unbuttoned his suit jacket and let his gut punch out for a moment. It seemed as if his father had taken his first good deep breath in a few hours from the look on his face.

      It goes well, son. Goes well.

      Where are the enemies now?

      To the east, it seems. His father loosened his tie just a bit. We’re sending engineers in that direction soon.

      That’s great.

      Yeah, we’ll get those bastards. I’ll make sure of it.

      Jakob sat down on the bench in the rather large antechamber of the house. It was a great meeting room for guests and large parties. Wide rooms, full white walls decorated with colorful paintings depicting shapes and sizes. No faces. No figures. At times, Jakob had tried to figure out what the shapes and colors were supposed to be.

      The one in the middle, with the blue and the yellow squares. Those were penguins. If he squinted enough.

      The one at the far end, closest to him, that was a lion. The purple triangles were a perfect fit.

      Falena? Jakob’s father shouted down the halls.

      The staccato march of high heels picked up speed into a steady tap-tap-tap until his mother was visible in the long hallway. Alec, you’re here. Finally. Let me get my purse.

      Hurry up, Alec muttered, turning around. He sniffed the air, licking his lips. Is Gerrald here?

      Jakob smiled. No. At least I don’t think so. Mom cooked.

      Alec smiled and held his fingers up in air-quotes. Cooked, huh?

      Jakob nodded, grinning.

      Then Gerrald must have been here earlier this morning.

      They both broke out into smiles and near laughter.

      But that had to change as his mother arrived into the antechamber with a thin white jacket over her shoulders. It hung from her blue blouse like a short, waist-length cape.

      What’s so funny? Falena said.

      Nothing. Alec motioned toward the door. Time and tide wait for no one.

      You’re the Republic Secretary of Defense, Falena said, walking outside. You’d think there would be something you could do about it.

      I can’t even get the SkyPort into the air, Alec said. What makes you think I can control the tides?

      I wasn’t talking about the tides, Falena said with a smirk. An ambitious man like you? Why stop there?

      And this is why I love you. Alec leaned over and gave Falena a light kiss on the lips.

      Jakob tapped at his nonexistent watch on his left wrist. Are you done yet? I’m going to be late.

      The three walked in silence to the long black limousine parked at the edge of their gates.

      Alec opened the door, letting Falena and Jakob in first before taking a seat near the driver up front.

      The doors shut tight, locking with an electronic whirring sound.

      Jakob buckled in and took in a deep breath. In a few more hours, he would be an adult, free from lower education and out into the world.

      And he shall come, his father said from the front seat of the limo.

      Jakob blinked, then narrowed his eyes. Huh?

      The rest of that saying you mentioned when I came in through the door. And he shall come.

      Jakob stopped breathing for a moment, watching his father’s face in the mirror.

      "So the whole thing goes: speak of the devil and he shall come. It’s a two-hundred-year-old saying. At least. Probably older," his father said.

      Jakob attempted to smile, pulling his lips back, playing pretend.

      His father nodded, smiled, and went back to reading his reports at the front of the limo.

      CHAPTER THREE

      HALF THE SECRET TO SUCCEEDING through the academy was being rich enough to attend. After that, the teachers were so afraid of pissing off anyone, they threw A’s at the students like little kids throw stale bread at pigeons.

      The result was a less than satisfying graduation for Jakob, who found himself smiling, nodding, shaking hands, and narrowly avoiding the kissing lips of older women.

      Jakob yearned to take off the damned black robe. It made him look like a justice of the Supreme Court, just one-third as old as they were.

      Jakob felt his ass cheeks clench in the thought of his mother fighting furiously to make him the next Chief Supreme Justice of the Court.

      That joke, sadly, would have to be filed away for closed doors. If spoken, even in jest, within his mother’s earshot, he’d be signed up for law school when they got back home.

      Thank goodness for the Civil Service Requirements. No one was free from those rules. It was a special requirement of the Congressional Body once the war was declared.

      Still, the auditorium, large enough to fit a few dozen rock bands and their mosh-pitting followers, seemed cramped, if not completely claustrophobia-inducing. The entirety of the place was owned by the Republic for such conventions, both political and celebratory. And as many times at was used, there were no spots of dust anywhere. No signs of scuffed floors. It was giant and round like a sports stage. Red signs with bold white lettering announced Congratulations Graduating Class of 2117. Balloons of a bold, dark blue were hung in groups of three to five around the room, held tight by steel blue strings that shimmered in the spotlights that shot out from just above the bleachers.

      The punch bowl just near the entrance to the arena kept him company. It was oddly solitary here. The other drinks—the ones of the more adult variety—were kept over near the other side of the room. The administration’s way of establishing a minor’s side and an adult’s side without having the temptation of graduation and teenage alcoholism.

      The only other moving, passable life forms were the bots that filled up the refreshments as fast as they could be drained.

      So how’s life? Jakob asked the bot nearest to him.

      The bot sat still, eyeing him with two yellow circles in its eye sockets. It lacked a nose, but had a cylinder for a head with a simple smile carved into the metal. It was an old model—one designed for bartending—but was retired years ago.

      That was part of Jakob’s training. He could take that thing apart and make it better if he had the time or the energy.

      Or if he cared enough.

      The problem is, his father had little care for the robots and his mother refuse to let him take home something she had not inspected personally.

      So, this is where he kept Robby.

      That good, huh? Jakob said. He sucked in some of the punch through his front teeth and let the fruit flavors mingle on his tongue.

      This was a green color but didn’t taste like any green fruit Jakob had ever tried before. Something not sweet, but with a vanilla aftertaste like a banana. Maybe some strawberry.

      What is this, Robby? Fun with food coloring?

      The bot turned its head and stared again.

      Never mind, Jakob said. I’ll just wait until the flavors change on the next rotation. He set the drink down and braved the large floor and pompous people gathering in front of him.

      With over fifteen hundred different graduates, it was easy to get lost in the celebrations. He was only one of many, and not even the greatest. The real champions of the Academy were the Republic ROTC. These were the future defenders of the Republic. The soldiers, the snipers, the tanks that were sent to protect the freedoms. Their freedoms, bought and paid for by the serviceman in so many wars in the past three hundred fifty-seven years.

      All of those battles were ingrained in their heads from a young age.

      As he passed through the crowd, he recited them to himself.

      Revolutionary War. Civil War. World War II. War on Terror. The Second Cold War.

      He bypassed and sidestepped congressmen and socialites, all of whom would have stopped and wished him good luck in his future endeavors if they had known who he was.

      But he was a salutatorian.

      Second best.

      First loser.

      Not good enough.

      Pushing through the crowd, he finally spotted some familiar faces—Tanner Atcomb and Helena Phin.

      Jeeze, Jakob said. Can we go yet?

      Tanner pulled up his collar through his black graduation gown and nodded his head. Yes, please, more cameras.

      Helena stabbed Tanner in the chest with a pointed fingernail. You need to calm down, sir. We still have a few more hours of this crap before I get you all to ourselves.

      Jakob nodded and turned around, looking for more familiar faces.

      Of course it was a mistake, sneaking up on two love birds like this. They were barely teenagers, just out of their years at the academy but brains not developed. If anyone were to ask them five years ago, they were in love at the tender age of seven. Then they weren’t. Then they were again at age nine. Then they weren’t.

      This is one of their on years.

      It didn’t help that they were a mismatched pair. He liked games and guns and she enjoyed puzzles.

      It didn’t help, especially in this school, that she was Hispanic and Southern Pacific Islander. The two put together created a hearty, broad young woman who could seduce you then kick your ass. It was one of her top qualities, if Jakob had to pick just one.

      And she was beautiful. That was for certain. And with Tanner’s blond hair and damn near flawless skin, they would make some beautiful babies. Especially if they took Helena’s almond-shaped eyes and Tanner’s amazing hair.

      Be jealous, man, Tanner said. He yanked Helena to his side, embraced her shoulders and hugging her nice and close. Then he laid his thin lips onto her full ones in an awkward, yet somewhat passionate embrace.

      There are lots of girls here, Tanner said. Pick one and invite her along to our get together.

      Jakob shook his head. Naw, no one I’m interested in.

      Boys? Helena said with a smile. I heard rumors about Cendal, but maybe you can tell better than I can.

      For a moment, Jakob caught himself sitting up, peering around as if Helena had pointed him out. No, he said, slouching again. I’m not sure that’s such a good thing.

      What’s your damage? Tanner said.

      This is all bullshit, Jakob said.

      Yes, you knew this was bullshit. You knew it would be bullshit. Tanner leaned over in Jakob’s face, but refused to let go of his girl.

      Helena waved. Hi.

      Jakob mustered a smile and waved. Hi.

      See? That’s not bothering you. What’s bothering you?

      Can’t tell you, Jakob said. Matter of national security.

      I would shush about that, Tanner said. You know they have ears.

      We’re in the largest meeting of officials and Republic elite outside of the Capitol Building, Tanner. Yeah, I think there are plenty of ears everywhere.

      Then don’t joke around like that.

      What if I were to tell you that my father took a mistress?

      Tanner’s eyes lit up. That’s juicy, but not surprising. He’s a powerful man.

      Jakob nodded. Yeah. Well, that’s not what happened.

      Tanner erupted into immediate laughter. Why would you joke about that?

      That’s a little dark. Even for you, Helena said.

      Okay, fine then. It’s not my father. It’s my mother.

      Helena and Tanner turned to look at each other in unison, as if moved by the same hands, the same thoughts. Glancing at each other, their mouths opened and they turned to look at Jakob. Is that true? Helena said.

      Jakob nodded. Yes. Totally true.

      Tanner shook his head slowly. That’s not a smart move. Your father’s a powerful man.

      Yeah, shit’s gonna hit the fan when someone finds out.

      Oh god, the splatter, Tanner said. He slapped his face, then shielded his eyes from the pretend pieces of poop flying all over the room.

      You’re disgusting, Jakob said.

      And you’re a sad, sad individual, said Tanner. But seriously, man. I’m sorry. About the mom thing.

      Jakob bit his lower lip and smiled. Yeah. I know. But what can ya do about it?

      Tanner’s eyes narrowed. Can’t tell if you’re being serious or joking.

      Jakob shrugged, took a step back, and

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