Chapter #8Caleb as Conspirator by: Seuzz   "Eighty percent," Caleb says.
"What?! Don't fuck with me!"
"Dude, it's worth ninety percent of your paycheck to keep me from going in on Monday, totally fucking things up, and getting your ass fired."
You pale. "You wouldn't!"
"Hey, I was the one who wanted the job."
You stare at Caleb, who, thanks to the mask he is wearing, is sporting both your face and a most infuriatingly smug expression. You're in the elementary school basement. There's a floor-to-ceiling mirror propped up against one of the walls—probably rescued from a school gymnasium—and he has been studying himself in it for the last five minutes.
"Yeah, I know you wanted that job," you tell Caleb through gritted teeth, "and that's why I'm giving you this chance to take it. And it's why I'm offering you ... forty percent?"
Caleb gives you a withering look. "Dude, I should get a hundred percent, since I'd be doing all the goddamned work for you. The money is the only thing in it for me."
"But you wanted the job and you'd have it!" you exclaim, trying to turn his earlier statement against him.
"I wanted the job for the money and the connections. I can't get the connections if I'm being Will Fuck Up Prescott. That leaves the money as the only attraction. 'All work and all pay' is the only way I'll take you up on your offer."
You suppress the urge to throttle him; choking a guy who looks like yourself would be too weird. You slump onto one of the many dusty tables jumbled up in the basement, and sigh.
"I brought you in on this ... really cool secret," you protest. "That's gotta be worth something!"
Caleb eyes you shrewdly. "You want some of the work money, you do some of the work. We'll keep a schedule. At the end of each pay period we'll split the pot in proportion to how much we worked."
"I still deserve some kind of bonus for bringing you in," you insist. "I bought the book, I bought the shit that went into that mask you're wearing, I shoveled that pile of shit back there—" You jerk your head at the pile of sandbags in the corner.
"Yeah, what is that for?" he asks.
"Ya got me. Freakin' book tells you what to do with it, but not what it does."
"Okay," Caleb says. "What you say is a fair point. For an equal partnership I'll chip in as much as you've already spent. How much would that be?"
"A little more than two hundred."
"I got forty to my name at the moment."
This time you do fly at for his throat. "The whole reason I showed you this shit was so you could kick in some shit to pay for the shit that I need to shit shit use to shit finish the next shit spell!"
He just grins. "And how much do you need to finish it?"
"At least two hundred!"
He shrugs. "Well, payday would be in a few weeks. It might take two pay days to raise it, what with taxes and all, but—"
"I don't want to wait that long! If I could've waited that long we wouldn't be having this conversation!"
"I can't help it that you've the patience of a squirrel." He checks himself out in the mirror again, and brushes his hair over. "I can understand it better, but I can't fix it."
You glower. "You know, it occurs to me that you are taking all this magic stuff pretty calmly."
"I'm still not convinced it's really happening. Like, I thought you told me this thing was supposed to give me your memories and not just your crappy looks."
"It does!"
"No it doesn't. Tell me something I should be remembering," Caleb challenges you.
You frown at him. "How much money did I have when I started this project?"
Caleb gives you a look. "Do even you know the answer to that?"
You have to admit that you don't, not to the dollar, at any rate. But no matter what you throw at him, he affects to not know anything about your life that he doesn't already know.
"Sounds like you fucked it up," Caleb eventually says. "Not that I'm surprised."
"Look in the mirror," you retort, "and tell me again that I fucked up."
"That's a fuck up of a different kind," Caleb says. But he does give himself a once-over that you flatter yourself is at least a little appreciative. "Anyway, it does seem like a good idea you brought me in on this. Maybe I can keep you from blowing yourself up. At the very least, I'll be able to look things over, make sure you're doing things right. Speaking of which, now that we've settled the financials, what can I help you with? What else can you do with that book you got?"
"That's why I need money from you. I can't do the next spell 'cos I don't have the money for it."
"So why don't you just skip ahead to some other spell?"
You explain how the pages of the book are locked, and how to unlock them. He demands to see the book himself, and makes a sour face when he finds that you weren't mistaken.
"So we can make things like this thing that you fucked up making," Caleb observes. "You still got the stuff to make those things, at least?"
"Yeah. I also got— Oh yeah!" You snap your finger. "I got another one of those memory stick things. By itself. I was thinking of using it on someone at Salopek. Maybe they've got a bunch of the chemicals we need for the next spell, and if we knew where they were, you could pick up some after you go in to work."
"Assuming it works," he says. "So, have you done that? Have you used it on someone?"
"I haven't connected with anyone who works at Salopek yet," you tell him with grinding patience.
He walks over and grabs your shoulders. "And where does our dad work?" he asks in a weary tone.
Something catches in your throat. "You're not serious."
"Will, why is neither of us capable of using your brain this afternoon?"
* * * * *
You hunch in front of your father. It's Saturday, and he's taking his afternoon siesta on the couch. His sleep is a bit deeper than normal because he's got a mind band inside him at the moment ...
Your attention is caught by a movement in the corner of your eye. Your younger brother frowns down at you from the entryway. "What are you doing? If you wake him up--"
"I'm not doing anything. Push off."
He walks over to crouch down next to you. "What's up?" He peers at your father.
You shove him. "I said go away!"
He pushes you back. "He's my dad too!"
"If you wake him up—!"
"Then be quiet!" he shouts.
You grab him and wrestle him away. He howls, and the two of you roll on the floor, tearing at each others' shirts. "Mom!" he yells.
"Shut up!" You work your way on top of him and clamp your hand over his mouth. He glares up at you, and then his eyes go wide. A firm hand grabs you by the shoulder and hauls you up. Your dad's icy eyes bore into yours.
"What the hell is going on!" he roars.
"He started it!" Robert yells.
"I wasn't doing anything!" you protest.
"Then both of you can do it outside!" He puts his hands on his hips.
Robert scrambles up and stomps away, but you hurl yourself into the easy chair and snatch up a school book. "I was studying," you mutter.
He just snorts and starts to turn away. As he does so, something catches his eye, and he bends down to pick a strip of metal up from the floor. You nearly choke, but he just sets it on the coffee table, and with a quiet oath leaves the room. You grab the mind band and shove it into your pocket.
* * * * *
"Awesome!" says Caleb when you meet him at his house later, holding the mind band aloft. "Lemme see it."
You pull it back from his outstretched hand. "Who says you're going to put it on?"
"I'll be the one working at Salopek."
"He's my dad."
He shrugs. "Whatever. So put it on, see if it works."
You make a rude noise with your lips, look down at it ... and freeze. It's your dad's name—HARRIS BRIAN PRESCOTT—floating over its silvery surface.
Ewww. Do you really want to get inside your dad's head? The squick factor, clearly, was the reason you hadn't even thought to use him as an entry point to Salopek.
You lick your lips. Maybe you would feel more comfortable if Caleb were the one to put it on.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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