Читать книгу Hearts Beat Strong - B. M. Fischer - Страница 5

I am the future, and they all know it. Influence. Money. Power. These things emanate off of me, off of my tall, muscular frame as I stand at the bar. The designer label polo over my broad chest and the high-dollar watch fastened to my rock-hard forearm compliment the angular and Aryan features of my face. Women want me, and men want to be me.

I take a slow sip of my double whiskey and soda, studying its familiar and satisfying toxicity. I allow myself to enjoy a few more moments of egotistical feelings before returning my attention to the company around me.

Four of my fraternity brothers stand to my left, laughing and in loud conversation. John, my roommate in the House, is retelling a story from a few weeks ago.

“All the dude said was ‘Hey that’s my girlfriend’ and next thing I know, Bam!” He chuckles between words.

“Henry like slams him in the throat and throws him to the ground. It happened so fucking fast, man. He hit him like five or six times on the ground too before the bouncers could pull him off.” All of our brothers laugh and look at me. One of them addresses me.

“God, you’re crazy bro.” I give him a slight smirk and respond shortly.

“The guy had an attitude, man.” I laugh slightly. I remember the night. I know the feeling so well: the tight knot of competition and power in my stomach, centered closely to my navel. There is a darkness in my heart that blacks out all compassion at times. It fills me with a blind rage, a desire to prove what I know: I am the best and I get what I want.

“Hey do you all want to go across the street to the Patio?” John asks the group. I think he knows some girls at that bar. I hear a few mumbles of agreement before I respond.

“Nah, man. This place is starting to get packed and there’s like two or three girls up at the front that we should talk to.” I tell John and the guys. Without even listening to John’s response, I know that the group will do as I say. They follow me. It’s because of things like this that I ran unopposed for our fraternity’s president.

We drink heavily at the bar, doing shots of top-shelf liquor and bombs, many of which I know I won’t get charged for because the bartender comes to our fraternity’s parties on occasion. My brothers laugh at my stories, making noises of endearment spawned out of subtle jealousy. After about an hour or so, I find myself in a conversation with a tight-bodied blond; her hair dyed platinum like a magnet to anyone with a hard dick and bad intentions.

“Oh my God!” She says in her high-pitched voice, communicating to me that she has a near child-level intellect, like anything and everything in the world is a surprise to her.

“So you and your Dad just spent the summer in Hawaii?” She asks. I answer slowly, in a manner that suggests I could be more interested in almost anything else.

“Yeah, I was interning at one of his companies there, but it was pretty sweet. I had a few weekends off just to party at our beach condo.” I tell her. She laughs and continues talking. I say just enough to keep her close; her hands moving in an accidental manner to my abs and arms at times. I feign interest because my lust for her body keeps me near. I had quickly identified the familiar signs of a sure thing.

After a few more drinks, I am touching her now too. My hand moves slowly upward to her smooth hair, pushing it softly behind her ear so I can lean in to whisper to her; to plant the seed of my intentions.

“You know, you are so beautiful” I say quietly, but in a firm and deep masculine voice. She pulls back and looks into my eyes. I see myself as she does: my eyes the loving and caring shade of blue, but slightly narrowed and hardened by my fierce energy, pulsating out a power that goes beyond words into the realms of meaning. It is done. She is mine.

She kisses me. Her lips, painted light pink with a cosmetic, smoothly press against mine. The simple act awakens a bestial desire inside of me. I need to have her, to show her that I can have it all, to display my power in its entirety.

As the bar announces last call, we decide to walk back to the fraternity house to continue partying. Our group has gotten larger. My brothers have picked up two girls, and of course, the blond is at my side, holding my hand with laced fingers. I allow her grasp, as if I truly care about her at all.

Even though it’s late, there are a number of people still up drinking at the house. I’m greeted loudly with phrases like:

“Henryyy what’s up man?” and,

“Hey bro, where’d you end up tonight?” All the while, I think about how the other brothers must be checking out the girl that’s with me. John asks me to do some blow, so we sit down at a table in one of the large living rooms of the House.

The white powder is collected in the middle of a large, glass-topped table, resembling a small mountain covered in snow. As I sniff through a cut-off straw, I feel the cold power entering my body through the lining of my sinuses. Fuck it feels so good. We’re laughing wildly, recounting stories that are untrue in a hundred different ways. My vision spins and my body is energized and euphoric; then, blackness.

I wake up feeling the body of a female curled into the nook of my shoulder. It takes me a couple seconds to realize where I am: my room in the fraternity house. I vaguely remember having sex with her. She stirs as I begin to pull away, and her eyes open as well.

“Good morning,” she says in a high-pitched voice that I’m sure she’s rehearsed to make it sound cute, like she never has woken up with someone like this before.

“Uh, hey,” I say in a grumbled morning voice. My mind draws a blank when I try to remember her name. I’m unconcerned.

“What time is it?” I ask. To answer she grabs her smart phone from under one of my blankets and checks the clock.

“12:50” She answers. Shit, I slept through two of my classes. Again, I’m unconcerned. As long as I pass and get my degree, I’ll be fine. I sit up turned towards her. She caresses my bare chest with one of her hands as she begins to address me again.

“So I was thinking we could go get some lunch or something?” She asks me. Even before she gets the suggestion out, I already know my answer.

“Ah, well, I actually have to go meet some of my brothers for a study group in an hour so I can’t. I’m sorry. Maybe another time?” I completely make up the excuse. I’ve never gone to a study group and never will. She pauses for just one moment before responding, and I think that she might cry. What a crazy bitch.

“Oh sure, yeah, just let me give you my number and you can text me.” She says, and grabs my phone and enters her number. I get up and start heading towards my bathroom to shower. I explain that I’ll text her later today, but know full well that I’m about to delete her information from my phone as soon as she leaves.

As I shower, I think about the girl and of how little I care about her, or any of them. I’m a rich and powerful man. She is lucky that she got to be with me at all.

I guess everything I feel about women stems from my father. I remember one night when I was a little child. I was in my bed and was unable to sleep. I worried about my mother because she was out of town visiting family. Sleepless, I got out of bed and travelled down the long hall to my parent’s room, hoping to find my Dad. I stopped at the threshold to the master chamber, having heard a noise. I stood and listened for a long time, hearing the orgasmic screams of another woman. After a while, I just went back to bed. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized that my father had been cheating.

It’s the night of my graduation. My father has told me that I am to accompany him to dinner with some of his business associates. I agreed, of course, knowing that this is the future for my career. We enter a high-end restaurant and head to a private backroom for the party that has been arranged.

We pass through a pair of polished, classical wooden doors and I see a large circular table in front of me. Sitting around the table are men of varying ages, from thirty or so to sixty years of age or more. All of them are white, and are very nicely dressed. I approach the table with my father on my left hand side. As we come near, all of them stand up and one, a rather large bald man, begins to speak.

“Welcome, Henry, welcome. It is such a pleasure to see you finally. Will you join us?” He gestures towards two open seats, which my father and I fill. As we sit, all of the other men sit down as well. The large bald man continues to address me, and I look directly back at him; but I can’t help noticing that the other men are looking at me and then darting glances back at the speaker. It’s as if he is the one in charge, and the rest of them are waiting for his permission to speak.

“Henry, it is on this exquisite night, the night of your graduation, which we have chosen to introduce ourselves. We are your father’s business associates, but more so we are his brothers; brothers in the most sacred and powerful fraternity in the world. It is on this night that we wish to illuminate to you your place in this world.” He smiles at me for one moment, and I make intense eye contact with him for the first time. I feel his power shake into my being as he continues.

“Henry, allow me to introduce my brothers, your future partners in life and in fortune.” He says to me and points to his right.

“This is Mr. Stephen Freeman, CEO of Hightower Foods, the largest whole-sale food production corporation in the world.” He gestures to a blond haired man and then continues.

“This is Mr. Jeremy Reynolds, majority shareholder of the Reynolds Oil Trust and board member of Lyon Pharmaceuticals, the most profitable pharmaceutical company in North America.” Both men make eye contact with me as they are introduced, but remain silent. I feel the room swell. The power becomes palpable around the table. The large bald man continues introducing the attending gentlemen, working to his right.

“This is Mr. Roger Dupont, chief liaison for the United States Central Intelligence Agency and former CEO of Dark Tide, the corporation that received the largest military contract from the United States government last year.” The speaker continues introducing the gentlemen at the table; thirteen men in total, all of them holding impressive and noteworthy positions. It seems that these men represent all the major industries: agricultural production, banking, media, pharmaceuticals, energy, steel, arms manufacturers, and more. The list of industries that these men are involved in is endless. Many are involved in government in some form. None are politicians, but hold positions of power in government by appointment. After introducing the last man, the large bald man bends his arms at the elbows and gestures to himself.

“And I, Henry, am Eric Herod. I currently am working with both Dark Tide and the Rising Sun space program, however my position with the Brotherhood occupies much of my time.” He says and smiles toward me briefly. He then nods and makes a facial expression that communicates to me that I am now expected to speak.

“It is a great pleasure for me to meet all of you. I find myself feeling fortunate and quite lucky to be making your acquaintances.” I say and smile slightly, nodding my head towards the other gentlemen. Mr. Herod then replies.

“Now, now, Henry, as you shall learn, should you choose to work with us, it is not luck that has led us to you. Contrastingly, it is your blood. As your father’s son, you are destined for greatness. You are meant to lead, to guide this planet and its inhabitants into a new world order.” He speaks to me powerfully, and I wonder at what these words could mean.

We eat dinner and converse throughout the meal. Many of the men suggest positions that I could take within their respective businesses when the time is right. They are all implying that I must do something first before I can begin working with them. I am overwhelmed by everything, but am extremely excited nonetheless. I desire to be powerful like these men, maybe even more so. As dinner concludes, Mr. Herod clears his throat and silence falls across the table. He then begins to address me.

“Henry, now that you have come to know us better, I think it is time. We would like to extend an invitation to you, just like the one that was extended to your father many years ago, to join our brotherhood. We wish to guide you, to teach you the secrets to our success, and to build you into the leader you can become. Will you accept our offer?” He asks me. I consider him for a moment and then speak, projecting my voice to all of the men present at the table.

“Yes sir. It would be my pleasure to join the Brotherhood. I hope to pledge myself as soon as possible, and am extremely grateful that you have selected me.” Mr. Herod smiles slightly and then responds.

“The pleasure is all ours Henry.” He then raises his glass of brandy and all of the other men follow suit.

“To the Masons, and to the new world order, which with their help, we shall create.” He toasts me and my father. As the men toast us, I feel the darkness in my heart grow, and the power inside my chest swell. I feel a certainty that with the Brotherhood, the world shall be mine.

I smile towards the other men, and then lift my glass of brandy to my mouth and sip. As the liquor pours downward into my stomach, I see something. It’s almost like a cloud of darkness surrounding each and every one of the men at the table. It’s faint, but I can see it. More so, it’s like that same darkness is projecting out of their eyes. As quickly as this vision came though, it leaves, and I lose the thought through the act of savoring this most recent victory.

I am no stranger to victory. In high school, I played three sports: football, basketball, and track. For all three of the teams, I was captain and MVP my senior season. Moreover, in my senior season of basketball, I led the team in scoring to a state title.

My Dad had me play sports from an early age. It was because of his initial pushing that I honed my raw athletic talent. I remember a touch-football league that my father enrolled me in when I was an adolescent.

The league met once a week for games between different teams. I was not only the best player on my team, but in the entire league. The games were officiated by a group of parents, three or four fathers who came to watch their children play.

Strangely, one day the parent supervisors approached me. They asked me, as the best player, if I would mind refereeing the games in their absence. They told me that they didn’t feel it was necessary that they attended the matches anymore. I could still play in addition to officiating. I remember one of the parents said to me:

“Mason, we’re putting our trust in you.”

I excitedly agreed to their proposition, and remember the swelling of pride within myself when they handed me a black whistle. Because I was the best player, I had been given this task of leading and guiding the entire league. I approached the assignment in self-satisfaction.

At first, I tried to officiate the games as fairly and with as little bias as possible. I looked upon it as my duty to ensure that the games were conducted as they should be. I saw myself as a leader, the biggest and strongest member of the league, whom the other kids looked up to.

As the weeks went on though, and it became apparent that the parent supervisors were not returning, my attitude started to change. I started to notice that the other players accepted my calls without question. I began to realize that I could change the course of entire games without question. I could make myself win, or another team win, or any other outcome happen that I desired. It was like I became God.

Around this time, after one of the games, I was approached by an older teenage boy named Pindar. Pindar had darker skin and a narrow and serpentine-looking face. He always wore a black jacket made out of some sort of scaled animal hide. On his wrist, he had a tattoo of what looked like a man who was part lizard.

Pindar had seen the control I had over the league and the other players. He told me that I was a great player, and that I should use my influence to make myself more powerful. He told me that he had a plan that I could help him to unfold.

Pindar told me about another football league that included teams from all over the region. This other league was intense and fierce, and included some minor gambling. Pindar said we could make a lot of money if we put together the right team.

His plan, he claimed, was foolproof. He would help me along every step of the way to make our new team. We had to make my league extremely competitive, so that we could weed out the weakest players. Most players would have to be cut, but the players who would be left would be the toughest, and would earn us the most money in the new league. Pindar gave me a cell phone so that I could be in constant contact with him.

By following the orders that Pindar gave me on my ever-present cellphone, I began to form the team that we needed. I made the other players hate each other deeply. I would make up rules and calls on the spot to manipulate individuals. None of them ever understood that I was the one controlling the outcome of every play with my black whistle. Full of gut-wrenching competition, the players decided suddenly and unanimously to start playing tackle football instead of touch.

Weeks passed, and I continued to follow Pindar’s orders implicitly. We slowly got the league to where we wanted it to be. Then, one day, it was time to make the final cuts to create our new team.

I’m not sure if they had been there all along, or just from the beginning of the morning, but on the day we were to finalize our team, the parent supervisors returned. There was a tall observation tower by one of the fields where we practiced. The observation platform at the top of the tower stood high amongst the clouds in the bright, shining sunlight. The parents came down the steps of the tall tower in the sky.

The parent supervisors, those who from the heavens came, were not angry at the state of the league, but rather were understanding. They explained to us that the football league was meant to be fun and good-natured, not extremely competitive and violent. They told us that they were proud of us, even though the league had become a mess. And despite the league deteriorating under my leadership, they told me that I had done a good job also. The players would be much more mature, stronger individuals because of what had happened.

The parents had seen Pindar helping me, and told him to leave. The teenager had no choice but to obey the parent supervisors. The parents told me that Pindar was a troublemaker, and was always looking for opportunities to cause problems.

The supervisors helped us to design and purchase flags that could be worn around our waists for the game. With the new flags, I no longer had to officiate the games with the whistle. The flags replaced my calls, and made the game run more smoothly. Slowly, the league returned to its natural and harmonious state, and the players, including myself, grew because of the experience.

As surely as the world turns, change comes upon us. I welcome it at every step, positioning myself to be successful at every juncture in life. I count myself amongst the determined and powerful men who will lead this planet into the future.

I’m packing up my belongings in my bedroom in the fraternity house. I look at my roommate John across the room who’s doing the same. He’s picking up shirts and throwing them into a large, black duffle bag. He makes a comment to me.

“Man, I hate moving. I can’t wait until my Mom gets here tomorrow so she can do this shit for me.” He laughs. I make a slight smirk in return to him as he exits the room to go find a missing shoe.

I barely remember my mother. She died when I was young. I think before she met my father she was a waitress or a bartender. That all changed when she married my father, though. There’s no way he would let his wife work in such a lowly and common position.

She died in a car crash one night after my fifth birthday. I can remember crying at her funeral and my father pulling me aside. He said,

“Be strong, son. The strong will survive. We can survive this and we can survive anything.” He had stared at me with his dark and fierce eyes. I don’t remember him even shedding a tear. I made the decision then to always stay strong. With time, my eyes became fierce and narrowed like his are, but the color blue in my irises, found behind the narrowed walls of my strength, is from my mother. Sometimes I can remember her when I see my eyes in the mirror.

John walks back into the room and we both continue packing. He seems sad to be leaving, but I am nothing but excited. He senses this about me and asks,

“So where is it you’re going again? Arizona or something?” I turn around and reply to him.

“Yeah, man. I have to report for training for the position my father got me.” I am lying. I don’t know where the Brotherhood is sending me. I have to report for the pledging process and training in Atlanta, Georgia, but after that I will be moved to a secret location. I asked my father where I would be sent, and he said that even if he knew, he could not tell me.

“God dude, you’re so lucky!” John says to me. He’s wrong, though. It has nothing to do with luck. This is my destiny.