Sebastian waved his passkey over the sensor, unlocking the side door. The security guard had tipped him off that Ethan was in the building.
“Evening,” said the cleaner, pushing her cart outside the washrooms. Sebastian whisked by without a word.
Ethan laid a file box on his desk and opened a drawer. He took out his much-loved tin of Walkers shortbread and placed it inside the box as if it were delicate china. Sebastian crept through shadows; most of the ceiling lights were off. He half sat on a desk behind Ethan.
The warlords had the newsroom to themselves. The late-night news crew was out, probably covering a downtown house fire. A scanner on The Desk squawked. Paramedics radioed the emergency room over the wail of an ambulance siren.
“Patient has suffered smoke inhalation. ETA—three minutes.”
Ethan grabbed the souvenir media passes hanging on his lamp: the Beijing Olympics, The White House, Pope John Paul II’s funeral. He threw the whole bunch into the box. Ethan reached between mounds of documents to retrieve a photo of his wife and children. He wiped off the dust with a tissue before adding it to the wreckage.
He picked up Bobblehead Ethan, cocked his arm but held his fire. Bobblehead Ethan faced an undignified burial in a garbage can. He bobbed like a crazy man. Ethan gave a dispirited laugh and changed his aim. Bobblehead Ethan soared into a nest of media passes.
His business cards, the ones proudly declaring Ethan Tremblay Host, Here & Now, joined a pile of reporter notepads destined for the dumpster.
“What was it you said about conquering armies?” asked Sebastian. Ethan twitched. “They tear down the symbols of the vanquished.” Ethan kept his back to Sebastian and continued his sorting. “Looks like you’re doing it for me.”
“If it isn’t Sir Bastard Hunter. Come by to gloat, have you?”
“Gloating is unsportsmanlike, but you did berate me into remembering your sage observation if I ever got in a war zone.”
“You can’t fight a war on two fronts. You I could handle. But you and Janice,” Ethan shook his head, “I surrender.”
“You lasted twenty-four hours longer than I thought you would.”
Ethan finally turned around to confront his harasser. “Damned with faint praise. Better men than you have done it before and lived to regret it.”
Sebastian stood erect. “I don’t scare easily. And I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“Enjoy your victory, Sebastian. I’m sure it won’t be long before you and Janice start squabbling over the spoils. It will get ugly.”
“At least it will be a fair fight between two people who deserve a chance at the brass ring. There won’t be any interlopers.”
“Here’s something for you, Sebastian.” Ethan held up a workbook with a spiral coil. “Respect in the Workplace,” said Ethan, reading the cover.
“That’s rich coming from you, don’t you think.”
Ethan flipped it into the trash.
“Where will you go?” asked Sebastian.
“I’m not sure. Another newsroom inside Holy Mother Corp, I imagine. Probably Toronto. They’re not as good at backstabbing there.”
“Ah, yes,” said Sebastian, “CBC Toronto—where your friends stab you in the front.”
Ethan met his rival’s eyes. “Why did you do it?”
Sebastian closed to within cuffing distance. “For one, you rubbed me the wrong way, but that wasn’t the main reason.” Sebastian wanted him to beg.
“Inquiring minds want to know,” said Ethan.
“You simply walked in the room,” said Sebastian. “You took something I wanted. I decided to take it back.”
“I guess you can’t blame a shark for being a shark.”
“I have a question for you now. How did you get tangled up with that doctor over in Gaza?”
“I got caught in a firefight between some Palestinians and an Israeli patrol. Bullets flew like sleet. One grazed me in a delicate spot and Haifa sewed me up.” Ethan put the cover on his box. “You’ve seen her eyes. One thing led to another.”
“Did you really get your balls shot off?”
Ethan picked up his box. “You’ll go to your grave not knowing.” He headed for the exit sign.
“You coward,” yelled Sebastian. “You don’t have the balls to tell me.”
Sebastian heard receding laughter.
•
Sebastian couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Strawberries love a sunny, well-drained site,” said Dan. “And lots of compost.”
Dozy Dan was killing him with boredom. He had to be stopped. Sebastian invented deliverance:
The bamboo blowgun poked through a wall of pointy leaves. The Mother-in-Law’s Tongue offered ample camouflage. Sebastian heard a whoosh. A quivering dart dipped in curare punctured Dozy Dan’s neck. The poison paralyzed him before his hand could even touch the quivering feathers. He collapsed face-first into his leek soup. The gurgling was mercifully short.
“I’m expecting a bumper crop,” said Dan.
A wall panel slid open without a sound. A black-clad figure, his face covered except for his eyes, skittered into the dining room. He removed a throwing-star from his sleeve. The sharpened points resembled a snowflake. “Dozy Dan-san,” cried the ninja, catching the dupe in mid-slurp. Sebastian saw a glint, heard a rush of air. The star embedded into Dozy Dan’s forehead. His head cracked back; his eyes turned vacant. His spoon tumbled into his leek soup, splattering his shirt. The ninja bowed to Sebastian before disappearing back inside the wall.
“I can’t wait to slather them in fresh cream,” said Dan.
Sebastian reached under the dining-room table and pressed the eject button. There was a piercing boing. Dozy Dan catapulted over Sebastian’s head, hurtling through the front window before he even had time to scream. Glass sprayed into the street. Sebastian heard a distant thud and a car alarm siren. The spring-loaded seat reset.
“We’ll have plenty of berries for making jam,” said Dan.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Penelope. “We’ll give people strawberry jam as wedding favours.”
“Brilliant,” said Roxanne.
“We’ll tie cotton caps on the mason jars with twine bows,” said Penelope. “And attach tags saying Spread the Love.”
“It doesn’t get any better than that,” said Sebastian. “Donna, will you help spread the love?”
Donna surfaced from her quinoa salad. “I think there’s been enough love spread in this family.”
Penelope drained her wine glass. “Let’s make a deal, Donna. Help with the jam and I’ll take both of you shopping in Toronto. Girls’ weekend away. Shop ‘till we drop on Queen Street West.”
“I can be bought,” said Donna. “Just this once.”
Penelope patted Sebastian’s thigh. “You wouldn’t mind losing Roxanne for a weekend, would you Sebastian?”
“Not at all. I’m sure I’ll find something to do to stay out of trouble.”
“A man is allowed to get into a little trouble during his last days as a bachelor,” giggled Penelope. She squeezed Sebastian’s thigh.
Prudish Penelope is no prude when she gets a few in. Try showing some inhibition, please.
“I’d toast the road trip if I had some wine,” said Penelope.
Sebastian lifted the bottle out of the wine bucket. It was empty. “I’ll get another. Care to join me, Dan? I’ve got a secret stash in the basement.”
Dan followed Sebastian downstairs to a wine rack, next to the shelves holding the Christmas decorations and a bag of hockey equipment.
“Do you still play?” asked Dan.
“At least once a week during the winter. I love to score.”
“I catch the occasional Leafs’ game. CBC has a suite.” Dan shook his head with the pathetic dejection of a broken-hearted fan. “The sacrifices I make for this corporation.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Sebastian pulled out a wine. “Laroche Chablis. Will Penelope like this?”
“Lately she likes anything that comes out of a bottle with a cork.”
“Is everything okay?”
“She’s stressed about the wedding. Mother of the bride nerves, I guess. You’d swear Roxanne was the first daughter ever to get married on short notice.”
Murky voices from the dining room migrated to the basement.
“I think we’re both in for a lot of ‘Yes, dear,’ ” said Sebastian. They shared a collegial laugh.
“Being away so much doesn’t help,” said Dan.
“Do you ever get tired of the commute?”
“Yes, but I don’t tire of the pay cheque.”
“I can’t wait for my own commute.”
“Sebastian, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Toronto has changed its mind about your secondment.”
“What?”
“I probably shouldn’t be the one telling you, but since you brought it up. It’s all because of this fuss over Ethan.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“He has friends at The National. They hold you responsible.”
“Me!” said Sebastian. His indignation filled the basement. “What proof do they have?”
“None. Just Ethan’s word. Did you actually ask him if he got his balls shot off?”
“What! He’s the consummate liar.”
“Regardless, they believe him and resources have been reallocated, as they say.”
“Let me see if I have this right. Ethan embarrasses the CBC, causes a furious backlash, resigns from Here & Now in disgrace and I’m the one who gets punished.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. I can’t interfere. Everyone would scream nepotism.”
“Let them scream. His friends can hurt me, but my future father-in-law can’t protect me. They’re reneging on an offer. And they get to do it with impunity, it seems.”
“When things cool down, I’ll twist a few arms. In the meantime, isn’t there an anchor job open? Skate where the puck is going to be, Sebastian.”
Sebastian shoved the Laroche Chablis back in the rack. “Let’s try this Ontario Chardonnay. It’s got a great nose.”
•
France, Spain, or Italy? Roxanne wasn’t sure where to go first. The wine rack needed restocking, so she planned to buy in all three countries. To break the stalemate, she relied on her personal maxim: when in doubt, go to Italy.
Roxanne pushed her shopping cart through the South America aisle, completely ignoring the substantial offerings from Argentina and Chile. She and Sebastian freely admitted to being old-world snobs when it came to wine. Argentina and Chile might be nice places to visit, but you wouldn’t want to drink there.
She sailed around the Horn, bound for continental Europe. Roxanne dropped anchor beside the shelf holding Chianti. She picked up a Ruffino Classico. A guilty smile broke out, her cheeks went ruby. She covered her mouth, but her petite fingers couldn’t hide the upturned corners of her lips. Sebastian had thrilled her body by pouring Chianti over it and lapping it clean. A wild night in bed, fuelled by splashes of Tuscany’s finest vintage.
As great as Ruffino was, Roxanne had a budget. Three bottles in the cart and no more.
“Excellent wine, isn’t it.”
The blush drained from Roxanne’s face; the smile dissolved. She swore she heard a rattlesnake rattle along with the familiar voice.
“Janice,” said Roxanne, as she took down the last bottle. “What a surprise.” The word pleasant was temporarily excised from her vocabulary.
“You’re smart to stock up now before the wedding bills arrive. I hear a wedding can cost 30,000 dollars. Have you and Sebastian considered eloping? 30,000 dollars would pay for an incredible holiday in Italy. Why drink Chianti here when you can drink it in a Tuscan villa.”
“We haven’t decided on a honeymoon yet,” said Roxanne. Janice’s cart penned her in. Retreat offered the only escape route. She would make a strategic withdrawal before the viper could strike, but until then, ambiguity was her best defence. “I’m sure it will be some place romantic.”
“Yes, Sebastian is all about the romance.”
Roxanne squeezed the cart’s handlebar and forced a smile.
“Have you picked the date yet?” asked Janice.
“It’ll be sometime after the fall ratings. Sebastian doesn’t want it said that he left CBC in the lurch.”
“A white gown against the autumn colours; you will look spectacular,” said Janice, using the hype of a fashion commentator. “I know this amazing bridal boutique on Bloor Street called Mariée. Tell Jean Claude that I sent you and you’ll get a discount.”
“Actually, I’m sewing my dress.”
Janice’s cheeriness evaporated. If Roxanne had realized that bursting Janice’s bubble would be such fun she would have done it long ago.
“Of course you are,” said Janice. “I suppose you’re designing it too.”
“I’m modifying a pattern. Something I can twirl in. I think making my own dress will be far more rewarding than buying something off the rack.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” said Janice.
Roxanne kept her distance. The snake was lying in wait.
“We keep fluctuating between an intimate wedding with only close friends and family, and something splashier. Guest list etiquette requires more diplomacy than a UN resolution.”
“I’m sure you’ll dazzle them, no matter how big the crowd. Don’t spare the makeup. Fake eyelashes are glamourous. Every guy in the room will swoon.”
“I only want one guy in the room to swoon.”
“I think all the women will swoon over that engagement ring. I’ve never seen one like it.” Roxanne spread her manicured fingers, showing off a white-gold ring with a pink, oval stone. “What is it?”
“Rose quartz. It was my grandmother’s. Opa gave it to her before he set sail for Canada after the war. They didn’t see each other again for two years. She came to Halifax after he got settled. They married and had fifty-five years together. This ring is love.”
“How precious,” said Janice, “and Sebastian saved a fortune.” Roxanne winced. “Any other traditions, Mrs. Hunter?”
“Actually, I haven’t decided if I’m going to be Mrs. Hunter. I may keep my own name.”
“Ah, the great debate.” said Janice. “What’s in a name?”
“Just my identity."
“I should let you go. I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do. If I could just reach past you for a bottle of Ruffino.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Roxanne wheeled her cart out of the way.
“You know,” said Janice, holding the bottle, “I introduced Sebastian to this wine. We shared a couple of glasses. He said you’d love it.”
“When was that?” asked Roxanne as she laid the bottles flat in the cart, making sure the labels faced up.
“It was after Garrison Hill’s funeral. Sebastian gave me a lift home. I gave him a nightcap.”
Roxanne felt fangs puncture her heart. Pain, terrible pain. She leaned on the cart to keep her balance.
“Next stop,” said Janice, “Bed Bath and Beyond. I need a new fitted sheet.”
Poison flowed from the venom sacs, the way liquid squeezes through a needle. Drops pooled in the wound. Roxanne had no antidote. It was a lethal dose.
“Bye.” Janice slithered away.
Roxanne rooted around her purse for her to-do list. Buy Wine was the first item. Buy Fitted Sheet was the second.
The crushed list bounced off the Ruffino bottles. She abandoned the cart.
•
Flags flapped overhead. Sebastian pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. 6:10. The rendezvous was scheduled for six. He decided to give him five more minutes. He scanned the network of sidewalks leading to the university’s administration building. Apart from a couple of hand-holding students, they were empty. Sebastian shifted his weight on the park bench. This one was certainly not designed for comfort.
A Cadillac SUV turned into the circular driveway and stopped by Sebastian. The tinted window dropped.
“Better late than never,” said Sebastian. “I was having my doubts.”
“So was I,” said Chief Paul Bennett. “Get in.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sebastian with a lackadaisical salute.
Sebastian buckled his seatbelt. The SUV followed the loop out to Elizabeth Avenue. Bennett drove for a block, saying nothing.
“It’s your dime, Chief. Why did you call?”
“Do I have your word that nothing will be repeated?”
“I don’t waste my time with off-the-record conversations, but I always protect my sources. I’ll verify the information with someone else before using it.”
“I don’t like your approach.”
“Take it or leave it. For all I know, you could be setting me up. I won’t be anybody’s patsy.”
The chief’s eyes nervously bounced from one side of the road to the other. “I don’t want my name attached to this. Agree or get out.”
“You’ll be Deep Throat.”
“I have a package for you in the glove compartment.” Sebastian popped the tiny door. Inside was an envelope with a bulge.
“Doesn’t feel like anthrax.”
“I wish,” said Bennett. “No, it’s something you’ve been after.”
Sebastian ripped open the envelope and tipped it. A flash drive fell into his palm. He closed a fist around it.
“This is a very strange thing for the chief of police to do,” said Sebastian.
“I would agree, except I’m not the chief of police anymore.” Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “I resigned yesterday. The minister of justice will make it official tomorrow.”
Sebastian held the flash drive between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s on this, do you?”
“I thought it better not to ask. I was assured that the data was obtained legally.”
“And you trust the people who said this?”
“I have to. I’m going to be working with them.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Chief…I’ll have to get used to not calling you that…Mr. Bennett, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.”
“I don’t agree. Politics can be a noble profession…with the right people.”
“Like you.”
“Yes, like me. I believe in the rule of law and in helping people who need help.”
“You’re tainted. Why do they want you?”
“Your idea that I do an interview turned out to be brilliant.” Sebastian grimaced. “Everywhere I go people shake my hand and wish me well. People can forgive. My associates did some polling and I’m not quite the leper you think I am. They want me to run for office. I can’t be chief of police anymore, but I’m too young to retire. There are still things I want to accomplish.”
“Am I speaking with a future minister of justice?”
“No promises have been made.”
“Forgive my cynicism. The rubes may buy it, but I don’t.”
Bennett stopped at a crosswalk, letting two kids scoot across the road.
“What about your drunk driving charge?” asked Sebastian.
“I’m flying to Florida next week. I’ve made a plea bargain. I’m pleading guilty and will be fined 2000 dollars. No jail time.”
“I can see the campaign slogan now—Vote Bennett for Good Judgment.”
“You haven’t lost any of your sulfuric wit.” Bennett circled back to the university.
Sebastian tossed the flash drive end over end, catching it on the fall. “This doesn’t make any sense. They could have just mailed the flash drive. Why get you to deliver it?”
“It’s a test to see if I have the stomach for it.”
“Being a flunky?”
“No, dealing with reporters like you.”
“Don’t be too sanctimonious,” warned Sebastian, hiding the flash drive in his pocket. “You’ve got yourself involved in a coup, and there will be blood.”
“I’m sure you’ll cover it to the last drop.” The SUV parked by the bench where the drive began. Sebastian opened his door and pulled out his phone.
“I should get to work. I hear the chief of police has resigned and is changing careers.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” said Bennett. “Best get a second source.”
Sebastian shut the door and the SUV rolled away.
•
Sebastian threw his car keys in the wicker basket on the hall table.
“Roxanne, I’m home.” The absence of a response surprised him. Her text said, ‘Come straight home. Special treat for dinner.’
His nose told him nothing was cooking in the kitchen. His eyes confirmed it: a food-free stove and no Roxanne. The living and dining rooms were empty too. He walked down the hallway towards the closed bedroom door.
“Roxanne?” Silence. Sebastian inspected the walls and floor. No sign of a struggle. He reached for the doorknob, bracing himself in case something unpleasant waited on the other side. His apprehension was a legacy of reporting on too many break and enters gone bad. Drug-crazed perps with no conscience, caring only about stealing enough money to feed the habit. Homeowners sometimes got hurt.
Sebastian opened the door a crack. A hinge creaked. Roxanne had nagged him about oiling it. He saw a flickering light on the wall and used a foot to nudge the door wide, fists at the ready. Roxanne’s naked body lay on the bed, stomach down, her head nuzzled into her folded arms near the footboard. A pose so relaxing she could have been sunning herself on a beach.
Lit candles glowed on both night tables. A tray sat on the bed holding a chocolate fondue heated by a tea light and a muffin pan filled with fruit. Pineapple chunks, strawberries, and banana slices were piled in the cups. Sebastian uncocked his arms.
Roxanne slid her hands under her chin and opened her eyes.
“Welcome home.”
“Why didn’t you answer when I called out?” asked Sebastian with a tinge of annoyance. Severe vexation wouldn’t be prudent, not with a nude woman on his bed.
Roxanne propped herself up on her elbows. Her pert breasts drooped. “I thought a little intrigue would lure you in here.” She mimed reeling in a fish.
“I’m happy to be caught, but what’s the occasion?”
“Blame the marriage counsellor. She asked about our sex lives. I could only think of one event that made me blush. A young woman should have more than that. Something to remember fondly when she’s old. And her man should have that same glow. This is a night to create new memories.”
Sebastian undid his tie and lobbed it on the bed. Roxanne wrapped an end around each hand and snapped it taut.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, “let’s be risqué.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Roxanne?”
“Remember your fantasy about being tied up?” she murmured.
“I distinctly remember that suggestion getting a cold reception.” He took a wary step closer.
“Maybe I’ve been too much the prude.”
“You come by it honestly.”
“It’s just trashy fun. Toss me another tie and your wish might come true.”
“You don’t have an ice pick underneath the bed, do you?” Sebastian made an exaggerated bend and playfully stretched his neck, trying to detect a honed point in the shadows.
“It’s been done already,” said Roxanne.
Sebastian whipped his least favourite tie off the rack and sent it sailing towards the damsel who offered distress. The rest of his clothes came off with frantic speed, piling up on the floor.
Roxanne slid the food tray to her side of the bed and the bare Sebastian lay on his. He reached back over his head and grabbed the ornate scrolls of the metal headboard. Roxanne lashed each wrist to a decorative tube. She used a bowline knot, a knot she learned as a kid on her father’s boat. An easily tied knot that cannot slip.
“Comfortable?” asked Roxanne.
“Comfortable and hungry,” said Sebastian.
Roxanne stabbed a strawberry with a bamboo skewer. She dipped it in the molten chocolate, coating the bottom half of the berry, making it as luscious as any in Gourmet magazine. The strawberry fluttered to Sebastian’s mouth. Roxanne teased him, refusing to lower the strawberry past his yearning lips. Sebastian lunged at the strawberry, pulling it off the skewer with his teeth.
“Delicious,” said Sebastian. His compliment was rewarded with pieces of pineapple and banana dripping with chocolate seduction.
“You’re not eating,” said Sebastian. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“I wanted to make sure that you were looked after first.” Roxanne churned a finger in the dark, rich swirl. She licked it clean. “Perfect.” She picked up the pot.
Sebastian followed the fondue with wide-eyed trepidation as it glided round his body. Roxanne suspended the flight over his chest. She tipped the pot just enough for a dollop to fall.
Sebastian sucked in as the chocolate landed on a nipple. Roxanne’s tongue flirted around his breast.
“Pour it,” he begged.
“Are you ready for the flood?”
“Yes,” he said in a hush.
The fondue pot circled his upper chest before swerving south and stalling over his erect penis.
“That might be a tad sensitive for a fondue,” he said.
“You’re absolutely right.” Roxanne swung across his thighs, her legs straddling his. She sat, pegging him to the bed. Sebastian gasped.
“They say cold water causes shrinkage,” said Roxanne, “I wonder what happens with hot chocolate.”
Roxanne tilted the fondue like a melting pot in a steel mill. Sebastian’s inflated eyes followed a cascade of melted chocolate. The waterfall coated his penis.
“Jesus Christ,” he shrieked, while thrashing about. Roxanne rode out the bucking. The bull couldn’t throw the rider. Sebastian’s penis shrivelled.
“Are you trying to burn the family jewels?”
Roxanne shrugged. “I think we’ve just redefined the term hothead.”
“You are trying to burn the family jewels. What’s going on?”
“Well, pouring Chianti over your genitals is passé.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about you and Janice.”
“Know what about me and Janice?”
“Flirting is one thing. Fucking is another.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. Untie me, Roxanne. Let’s talk this out.”
She poked his flaccid penis with a skewer. Sebastian tensed. “You let the little head do the thinking for the big head,” she said. “If I remember correctly, Lily Chin said the same thing about Ethan Tremblay. You two have more in common than I like.”
“Roxanne, this is crazy.”
Roxanne hopped off Sebastian. She pulled a suitcase out of the closet and laid it by the bed.
“When did I ever cheat on you?” asked Sebastian.
“Between burying your colleague and cuddling with me.”
“That’s not true. Did Janice tell you that?”
“Actually, she did in her coy, reptilian way.”
Roxanne groped underneath the bed. Sebastian strained against the ties. “Relax. I’m not after an icepick.” She retrieved a phone and dialled a number.
“Hi Daddy.” Sebastian felt as weak as his penis. “Would you do me a favour, please? Sebastian is tied up and needs a helping hand. I’ve got an appointment.”
“No-o-o-o,” implored Sebastian quietly.
“He has to move some stuff out of the house. It shouldn’t take long.”
Sebastian only heard bits of the reply, but caught the phrase “one hour.”
“Thanks so much, Daddy. I really appreciate it and Sebastian will too. The door will be unlocked. Just come on in.” She touched End Call.
“Roxanne, you can’t let your father see me like this.”
“You’re right.” Roxanne used a skewer to flick his limp penis from the right thigh to the left. “That looks more natural, for a lefty.” She gripped the skewer like a dart and let it fly. It landed in the fondue. “Such a waste of good chocolate.”
“Roxanne, we can work this out. Don’t throw our relationship away.”
“I’m not the one who did that. I simply brought it to a head, so to speak. I’m having a shower and then I’m going out. Don’t be here when I get back. Or next time, it will be an icepick.”
Roxanne turned her back and walked to the door. “He’ll be boring, Roxanne,” said Sebastian. His words bricked the doorway.
“Whoever you end up with, he’ll be boring. Dull. Insipid. He won’t make you laugh. He won’t know how to make a bouillabaisse. He won’t know anything about Warren Zevon. He won’t stand in the Sistine Chapel and describe how Michelangelo painted the hand of God. He won’t make you glad that you’re with him.”
“You think you’re the only man who knows French cuisine. You’re the only art critic. You’re the only witty guy. I don’t think so. The next man I’m with will be all of that and so much more. And he won’t break my heart.” She walked out of the bedroom with poise.
“Come back, Roxanne,” he pleaded. Sebastian threw his head back on the pillow and tested both knots with a tug. He wasn’t going anywhere. Roxanne appeared in the doorway. His heart raced.
“By the way, I’ve never liked Warren Zevon. We were both living a lie.” Roxanne vanished.
“You bitch,” he whispered.
•
Janice rapped on the apartment door for the second time.
“Hello.”
No response. She knocked again, more loudly than before.
“Open up, Sebastian. I know you’re in there. Your car is outside.”
The door opened but came up solid against the security chain. “Go away,” said a mousy voice. “Leave me alone.”
“Let me in. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“You’re hearing me,” said Sebastian, “so you know I’m alive. Misery does not love company at the moment.”
“I brought something to cheer you up.” Janice passed a magazine through the crack.
The door closed. Janice heard the chain sliding out of the track. The open door revealed a sour Sebastian holding a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
“Very funny.”
“It’s a reminder there are plenty of fish in the sea. And some of them dress like that.”
“I don’t feel like fishing at the moment.”
“You’re worse off than I thought. This requires an intervention. Can I come in?”
Sebastian stepped back. Janice spied empty Chinese food tubs stacked on the kitchen counter and beer bottles by the garbage can. Sections of the New York Times lay strewn across the coffee table and one hung over a sofa arm.
“I love what you’ve done to the place.”
“Did you say intervention or imposition?”
Janice brushed the stubble on his face, making a bristle sound.
“Did you break your razor?”
“I have no close-ups today. Shaving can wait.”
“It looks quite good on you, actually. I could get used to a beard.”
Sebastian pulled two beer out of the fridge and held them up. Janice shook her head so he put one back. The kitchen clock said 12:10.
“If I make it to noon before the first beer,” said Sebastian, “I consider it an alcohol free day.”
Janice laughed. Sebastian popped the cap off his Steam Whistle and took a swig.
“Why are you here, Janice?”
“To talk some sense into you. It’s time for you to end your period of confinement.”
“I’m not pregnant, I’m depressed.”
“Stop whining. You’re better off without her. She’d only hold you back. Endless family dinners, kids puking up on you, a house with a swing set, summers at the cottage, a career steeped in the mundane. Goodbye Beijing. Goodbye Jerusalem.”
Sebastian pointed the longneck of his beer at Janice. “You’re the reason she threw me out.”
“Me! That’s rich. Did you really think you could fuck anyone you wanted and Roxanne would say, ‘That’s okay, honey, a man has his needs.’ ”
“She wasn’t supposed to find out.”
“I guess some of your investigative skill rubbed off on her.”
“I love her,” pined Sebastian.
“It’s amazing you can say that without the slightest embarrassment.”
Sebastian slammed the bottle down on the kitchen counter. “I do love her.”
“Stop pretending. This has more to do with rejection than love. A piece of you is wounded alright—your ego. Stop crying in your beer. She did you a favour. She didn’t just throw you out; she threw you into a life raft. You would have drowned, taken down by the maelstrom of matrimony.”
“Nothing comes without struggle and sacrifice. It was the perfect arrangement. And while you might not see its virtues, I certainly do. I’d like to get it back.”
Sebastian’s phone vibrated. He snatched it off the counter. Puzzlement tramped across his face.
“It’s a text from Roxanne’s mother. She wants to meet me.”
“Don’t go. It will not end well.”
“I have to know what she wants.”
“Save what’s left of your dignity and tell her no.”
“Penelope could be the emissary. Maybe Roxanne realizes that she went too far. Penelope might have an olive branch.”
“Careful she doesn’t slap your face with it,” said Janice.
•
Sebastian leafed through a copy of Around Town. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He hadn’t been anywhere in days, much less around town. He was living the life of a hermit. No live bands, no artists’ openings, no film festivals, no dating, and no sex. A more appropriate masthead would have been Celibate & Cloistered.
“Would you like to…oh, it’s you,” said the waitress, lowering her order pad.
“A latte, please.”
“Let me guess, no Snoopy.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’m sure we can manage a fern.”
Sebastian used the newspaper as a screen, hiding from the café hubbub. His eye stopped at the sex column: Carnal Counsellor.
Dear Carnal,
My boyfriend cheated on me with several women. He’s begging me to take him back. He’s a louse of a person, but great in bed.
What do you think?
Having Second Thoughts
#####################
Dear Having Second Thoughts,
The guy is pond scum. Forget him. There are men who are both great in bed and faithful. Hold out for one of those.
“Hello, Sebastian.”
Sebastian jerked the paper shut. Prudish Penelope hovered over him. Sebastian jumped to his feet, but was uncertain how to greet her. In times past, he would have kissed her cheek. Given the circumstances, it might appear too familiar. He considered a handshake. Too standoffish for a woman he used to kiss. He opted for a simple gesture.
“Please, sit down,” he said, pointing at the empty seat. Penelope laid an office envelope on the placemat as she pulled out the chair.
Sebastian heard a cup and saucer rattling. A shaky hand carried his coffee; the waitress had an exaggerated tremble. He imagined the cup wobbling off the saucer into his lap, so he laid the newspaper on his pants for protection. The caffeine calamity veered off at the last moment and touched down safely on the table.
“I’m so nervous,” said the waitress. “It’s not every day we get a TV celebrity in here.” She took out her pad and pen with rock solid hands. “Would you like anything, Ma’am?”
“No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.” Penelope, ever discreet, waited until the waitress left. “No hot chocolate today?”
Sebastian brought his knees together. He hadn’t expected cheekiness, but he remained stoic. “Penelope, I’d like to sort some things out.”
“Me too.”
“Roxanne has made a terrible mistake. She thinks I’ve cheated on her. I never have.”
Penelope appeared unconvinced. Sebastian continued to tap dance.
“This is all a simple misunderstanding.”
The group at the next table burst into rowdy laugher as if they were in on the fraud.
“I can explain everything if she’d only see me, but she won’t even answer my messages.”
“This is exactly why I’ve come,” said Penelope. “There certainly has been a misunderstanding.”
Sebastian relaxed. The cream puff on the menu wasn’t the only one in the café.
“The message is just not getting through,” said Penelope.
The barista purged the steam wand on the espresso machine. A scalding hiss whistled through the café clatter.
Penelope leaned in. “I want to be perfectly clear.”
The barista frothed milk in a steel pitcher. The whirlpool created a sucking sound.
“Leave… my… daughter… alone.”
“What?”
The barista banged the pitcher on the counter three times. Milk bubbles popped. So did Sebastian’s cockiness.
“Stop sending Roxanne messages. Cut all attempts at contact. Disappear from her life.”
“I don’t understand,” said Sebastian. Prudish Penelope showed none of her usual persona—the doting matriarch who said things like, ‘Sebastian, you’re so funny,’ ‘Sebastian, you look handsome,’ ‘Sebastian, come sit by me.’ He didn’t recognize her.
“I had hoped you would go away quietly. But you ignored the warnings.”
“What warnings?” huffed Sebastian.
Penelope untied the string on the envelope and folded the flap back. She pulled out a piece of glass the size of a fingernail and laid it in front of Sebastian. He used his thumb and forefinger to hold it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The clue was lost on him.
A second dive into the envelope produced a lipstick tube. Penelope removed the cap and turned the base. A scarlet bullet poked up. She placed the upright tube next to the glass fragment. Sebastian’s eyes still flickered bafflement.
The envelope of tricks rustled as Penelope yanked out a photo and slid it across the table with her fingertips. He tilted the glossy print to get a better look. Sebastian and the eight by ten stared at each other. The photo said DOES ROXANNE KNOW ABOUT YOUR SECRET LOVE?
The barista yelled, “Our latte art special today is The Scream.”
“You,” said a flabbergasted Sebastian. “Why?”
“Because you cheated on my daughter.”
“You’re wrong, Penelope.” Sebastian drew in a breath for more distortions, half-truths and outright fabrications.
“Stop the lies,” barked Penelope. “I’ve been on to you since your fling with the redhead in Paradise Point. A friend in the bar tipped me off. I had a text before you and the harlot were out the door.”
Sebastian stiffened. “That’s your proof—a text from a gossip in a bar.”
“I was inclined to give the benefit of the doubt, but then Roxanne just happened to mention seeing you hug a redhead in the CBC lobby. I decided you needed scrutiny.”
Penelope pulled more photos out of the envelope and shook them at Sebastian. “At least the redhead had good taste in clothes, even if she couldn’t keep them on. But Janice Stone, she dresses like the skank that she is.”
Sebastian snatched the photos. He and Janice were in full lust outside her apartment—torrid embraces and deep kisses.
“You took these?”
“A private investigator. You must have been so grief stricken after Garrison’s funeral that you lost your senses. What else could possibly explain tonguing Jezebel on her doorstep? What is it you reporters call this—the money shot?”
Sebastian touched the piece of glass. “You broke my headlight.”
“Shocking isn’t it, what some people will do for money,” said Penelope.
“You put your daughter’s name on a billboard.”
“Yes, that was a bit rash. But one doesn’t think straight when one’s blood is boiling. You ignored the lipstick. I couldn’t arrange a voice in a burning bush. A digital billboard seemed the next best thing. By the way, you get full marks for ingenuity, distracting Roxanne the way you did. Well done.”
Penelope stacked the photos. “Roxanne hasn’t seen the photos, but she will, if necessary. I’ll give her the mettle to resist you. I’ll hurt her to save her.” Penelope turned away. “And I’ll hurt her to save myself.”
Sebastian looked confused. “Excuse me?”
“I was smitten with you, Sebastian. I tried to deny it. I tried to fight it. I couldn’t. You didn’t just break Roxanne’s heart, you broke mine too.”
Sebastian fell back. “The cougar and the cub loved me.”
“I could stand aside for Roxanne, but not for the tarts. Those sluts destroyed our relationship.”
“We never had a relationship,” argued Sebastian.
“You’re right, we didn’t have sex,” said Penelope. Sebastian shuddered. “But you touched my soul. I adore your wit, your intelligence, the way your hair curls, and God forgive me, those engorged chest muscles. You only had to be faithful to Roxanne in order for us to have spiritual love. But your libido got in the way. You couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? You ruined everything.”
“Make things right with Roxanne and I promise to be a new man. It can be the way it was.”
“How gullible do you think I am?”
“Make things right with Roxanne or I’ll tell her what you told me, every salacious detail of your forbidden love.”
“That’s the Sebastian I’ve come to know and loathe. She’d never believe you and I’d deny it. Besides, you’re forgetting about the photos. If you don’t leave without a trace, these tawdry pictures will be delivered to every CBC email account in the country. I already have the addresses. There are some perks to being married to a CBC vice-president.”
Penelope pushed her chair back and stepped away. Sebastian stayed sitting, his pretend chivalry exhausted.
“You can keep the photos,” said Penelope. “I have plenty of copies.”
•
Dumped. Humiliated. Blackmailed.
The abuse ends today.
Sebastian had been ordered to The Executioner’s office. The summons came on official CBC stationery, signed by Alicia Gorski, Regional Director. Sebastian peered through a newsroom window. No gallows erected yet, but he’d swing at high noon. That is, if he let them. He threw the letter into the garbage can.
“What’s going to happen?” asked Janice.
“They’ll give me a fair trial and then they’ll hang me. They want a scapegoat. They blame me for Ethan being run out of town.”
“Don’t you think they might be right about that,” suggested Janice.
“Comme ci, comme ça.”
Sebastian held up his iPhone. “I’ve been working on a commemorative scrapbook.” He touched a scissors icon and then a photo of Ethan Tremblay on the Here & Now set. The photo peeled back and music started.
“There’s a Warren Zevon tune for every occasion.” Sebastian sang along.
Dry your eyes, my little friend,
Let me take you by the hand.
Photos of Ethan floated through the screen, along with headlines culled from newspapers and websites.
Laughing Ethan. Here & Now Anchor Offends Everybody
Apathetic Ethan. Anti-Tremblay Alliance Demands Apology
Irate Ethan. Anchor pleads innocence: ‘I’ve been set up.’
Contrite Ethan. CBC Host says ‘I’m sorry.’
Gloomy Ethan. Signing Off: Tremblay Resigns
“Photo manipulation can be such fun,” said Sebastian.
Look around, my little friend.
Jubilation in the land.
“I’m not going down, Janice. They forget. I’m an excitable boy.”
When Johnny strikes up the band.
Sebastian turned up the volume on the guitar solo and listened until the final notes died away. The time was 12:05.
“The Executioner hates tardiness,” said Sebastian. “She should be sufficiently galled by now.”
“Be evil,” said Janice, with none of the usual frivolity. “I like that in a man.”
Sebastian rehearsed his lines one last time. They would be his armour. The door to The Executioner’s office was open. Alicia Gorski was flanked by Evan Forbes and Ruth Jazmin, the human resources manager. All three had their hands folded on Alicia’s oak desk.
And to think I accused Roddy of being a trained monkey. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
A lonely chair waited for Sebastian. “Nice to see that it doesn’t have wrist and ankle straps.”
“Thank you for coming, Sebastian,” said Alicia, “though maybe it’s best to leave the absurdity outside. We could have gone on without you, but it’s better that you’re here. You’re allowed union representation if you wish.”
Sebastian waved off the suggestion.
“I’ll recap the reasons for this disciplinary hearing. You made confidential matters public without authorization and you engaged in conduct contributing to workplace violence.” Evan and Ruth nodded gravely.
“Proof,” snorted Sebastian.
Alicia swung the monitor arm so Sebastian could see. “The IT department loves a challenge and you certainly gave it to them.”
Sebastian watched the notorious YouTube video of Ethan’s mock headlines.
“A girl can change her mind. A transgender activist sticks with the bird in the bush.”
Ruth puckered her lips. Evan cleared his throat. Alicia’s body constricted before she hit pause.
“IT ran the video through software capable of analyzing individual pixels,” said Alicia. Sebastian leaned forward. “It could see dots on top of dots, and take away the dots we didn’t want.”
The screenshot dissolved to reveal a faint image. Hair, forehead, eyes, hands holding an iPhone. Sebastian’s camera had caught his own reflection.
“That’s incredible technology,” said Sebastian. “Does CSI know about this?” Ruth threw up her hands.
“Sebastian, this is serious,” snarled Alicia. “Do you have anything to say?”
“Anchors shouldn’t say stupid things into a microphone.”
“You would know that better than most,” said Alicia.
“We’re suspending you for a week without pay, starting today,” said Ruth. “And you’ll write a letter of apology to Ethan Tremblay. If you refuse, you’ll be terminated.”
Sebastian pulled an iPhone out of his pocket. His fingers strutted across the screen. “You might want to rethink that.” He kept typing.
Alicia slapped her desk. “We’re not negotiating here.”
“I’ll take the suspension, but as for the apology, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, Ethan Tremblay can go fuck himself.”
Ruth leapt to her feet. “We’re done here.”
Sebastian finally lifted his eyes. “If you fire me, who will tell the loyal Here & Now viewers about the premier’s cocaine addiction?”
Ruth sat down. Both she and Alicia turned to Evan. “What the hell are you talking about?” asked Evan.
“She’s a coke head.”
Evan the jurist transformed into Evan the executive producer. “You’ve said that before, but didn’t have a scintilla of proof. I don’t suppose you have a Rob Ford-like video, do you?”
“Actually I do. I have tape of her buying cocaine from a known drug dealer.”
Evan beamed. “You have the money shot.”
“We’re not here to discuss the newscast,” interrupted Alicia. “We’re here to discuss Sebastian’s discipline.”
Sebastian laid his phone on Alicia’s desk. Send filled the screen. His index finger hovered over the word like it was a detonation button. “Wouldn’t it be a shame,” he said, “if the competition got this video. Can you imagine what Peter Mansbridge will say if he sees it on CTV and Global, and CBC has nothing? He’ll be incensed. He’ll be shouting, ‘How did this happen? Who’s responsible? Someone needs to be fired.’ ”
“This is blackmail,” said Alicia.
“No, this is negotiation,” said Sebastian. His finger quivered. “Start the suspension next week. Make it two weeks if you like. In the meantime, we have a good old-fashioned scandal to lead Here & Now. Every newsroom in the country will want this story. You can topple a premier today. Or you can topple me. Your choice.”
The axis of no evil looked astounded. Alicia’s head swivelled between her colleagues.
“Two weeks suspension, no grievance,” insisted Alicia.
“I could use the holiday,” said Sebastian.
“I don’t like it, but I can live with it,” said Ruth.
“Get your story lawyered,” ordered Evan.
Sebastian took his finger away from the trigger and bolted for the newsroom.
Sebastian Hunter is not fading to black.