The Destroyer

Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
No one paid attention in History class. Muffled conversations and muted giggles riddled the room behind the teacher's back. Mallorie dragged her pencil over a piece of lined paper, doodling T-shirts ideas. She yawned, glancing sideways at Jada, who was staring at the clock.

Jada caught her eyes and shook her head. "I don't give two shits about the Great Depression," she whispered, slinking low in her chair and folding her arms in disgust.

Mallorie smiled. After having not spoken for several weeks, she saw Jada's comment as an opening; a hand re-extended in friendship. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What kind of tickets did you get for the concert? Are they any good?"

"They're in the last row on the floor." Jada turned her body to face Mallorie, resting her arm across the back of her chair. "But that's a lot of bullshit. There was only twenty people ahead of us in line. We counted."

"They probably had a ton of online sales."

"Yeah, maybe." Jada shrugged. "Why weren't you at Football game yesterday?"

"I was grounded the whole week," she whispered, glancing at the trumpet case beside her friend's feet. "Are you really learning to play that thing?"

"Yeah, starting to. Did that girl Brooke leave?"

"Yeah, she's back in New Jersey."

"So then...what have you been doing?" Jada questioned.

"Nothing. But I'm making a little money." Mallorie grinned, reaching in her pocket and pulling out two $20 bills. She waved them seductively in front of her friend. "You wanna go grab a bite after school?"

"You're buying?"

"Yeah." Mallorie gave her a cocky grin. While her business wasn't making her rich, their sales were steadily rising, and she was thinking of adding more shirts to their line and tying each one to a cause. It seemed to work with their company name, Chariot, which Armando had chosen for the competition. "Hey," she added, you know those photos...the ones in his case." She gestured towards the trumpet.

"Of his wife and stuff? You want them?"

"Please." Mallorie waited patiently for Jada to remove them from the lining, and then she tucked the envelope safely between her books. "Thanks. The monument is being built. I went over the other day to see it."

"How's it looks?" Jada asked.

"It looks amazing," Mallorie said. She had marveled at the statue's life-sized framework and the way the three working women it featured seemed to be in motion. Soon at would be cast in bronze and set beside the harbor, forever capturing the pride and strength that emanated from their faces. Class finally ended with a bell ring. She stood, gathering her things together, and then touched Jada on the shoulder. "You think we can be friends again?" she asked sincerely. "I really miss hanging out with you."

"Yeah, sure." Jada shrugged, immediately starting to ramble on about her entire night of camping out for tickets.

---

October rushed in with money. It rained down on Mallorie like the golden leaves that littered Central Park, filling up her bank account with large daily deposits. Armando had invested their profits wisely, choosing smart advertising options, and he'd gotten them three interviews with teen magazines, talking about their project. He was as savvy as he was ambitious, and his drive to succeed amazed her. At least three nights a week they'd be on the phone together, discussing the state of their finances and strategizing their next move, although with school they both had little time to meet.

But the money made it worth it. Mallorie twirled in front of the bathroom mirror by the Wellington's service door, admiring her dress and shoes. She lifted her hair and shook her head, watching her new earrings sparkle. "So where should we go?" she asked her mother, excited to treat her to dinner.

"Angelo's," Valeria said. "I'm dying for some pizza. I'll just be a few more minutes."

Mallorie smiled, following her out into the kitchen. It was the evening of the hotel's costume ball, and her mother was staying late to help set up. She peered into the spacious room, trying to imagine it full of beautiful masked people, and then she crossed the kitchen and glanced out into the hotel's dining area. Her eyes widened in surprise behind the door's little glass window.

Katherine Durham was seated sideways at a table in a short, sequined dress, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her face was the creamy beige of morning with a dusting of rose blush, and her long blonde hair hung in voluminous curls. She was seated with a young man, although Mallorie couldn't see him. She edged through the door and moved across the room, trying to get a better angle.

"It was amazing." The young man hands excitedly recreated his actions while he spoke. "It was a perfect reverse pass, and he dunked it right in."

"Well, I'm proud of you." Katherine smiled, her heavily-ringed fingers wrapped gracefully around a glass. "Hopefully next time, your father and I can come."

Mallorie's head tilted with curiosity. It was their middle son, Richard, who she knew went to college, although she wasn't sure where. She took a seat at a table in the corner, hoping to remain inconspicuous, although she imagined Katherine wouldn't remember her just from a minute in the elevator. The two of them continued to have a lively conversation. Richard said something funny and his mother threw back her head, joining him in uproarious laughter. Then suddenly they both grew silent. Richard stood up post straight and extended his hand while Katherine quickly downed the contents of her glass.

Mallorie's eyes scanned in the direction of his greeting and then gasped, lowering her head. It was Matthew Durham, joining them at their table. She picked up the menu the waiter had left and ducked her head behind it.

"Dad," Richard said, shaking his hand.

"Your mother says you're thinking of changing your major," Matthew said in welcome. "I don't see how you think that's a good idea."

Richard slowly lowered himself back to his seat, the red glow of laughter drained from his cheeks. "I just don't have a very good head for numbers."

His father's eyes lifted with a darkened cast. "In other words, you're failing."

"No," the young man gasped out quickly. "No...my grades are okay, I'm just...I got into some acting classes and...."

"Got into?" Matthew scowled. "Well, get yourself back out of them. If you'd spent more time studying and less time on the field and you might..."

"I'm not dropping Lacrosse," the young man interjected.

"You'll drop it if you have to," Matthew said sternly, turning his head to give a waitress his order. Mallorie frowned, catching the brief, apologetic glance Katherine gave to her son. The young man looked crest-fallen, his eyes downcast and face sullen, and he didn't speak another word while she watched them. Katherine, too, remained tight lipped, pouring herself out another glass of wine.

The light tap of fingers against the door's window glass caused Mallorie to turn her head. Her mother was peering out at her with terror in her eyes. Mallorie stood and quickly turned, exiting the room. Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders the second she entered the kitchen. "Did he see you?"

"No," Mallorie reassured her.

"What on earth possessed you?" her mother seethed, her entire body trembling.

"He wasn't out there when I walked out," she said calmly, trying to get her to relax. "That's why I hid. It's okay, Mom, take it easy."

Her mother let out a heavy breath. "Mallorie, I swear..." she said. "Promise me. Promise me you won't ever try to speak to him."

Mallorie pursed her lips and looked down at her feet, trying not to feel anger herself. "That's not really a fair thing to ask me," she said weakly.

"Look...you don't know that man," her mother said, lowering her voice. "And believe me, you don't want to."

"Then why did you..." Mallorie started.

"No." Her mother shook her head. "I'm not going there. Just trust me when I say he's not a good person."

Mallorie narrowed her eyes at her mother and then reached in her purse, receiving an incoming text message. She tapped it open as they started for the exit, and then stopped in her tracks, reading the message from Armando.

'I just received a letter from the competition. We must have placed. We've been invited to the banquet.'

"Oh boy," she whispered, glancing nervously back towards the dining room as her mother charged out the door ahead of her.
 
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Siskiyoumom

Siskiyoumom

Veteran Member
I feel sad for the Mom.
What kind of horrid things must she have gone through with the rich dude?
It is so sad that she has had to work so hard and gain so little.
I hope that the story is not too terribly sad.
 
Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Alien as the coffee shop had once been, the faces and smells between its walls now seemed like a family dinner. Walking in, Mallorie knew exactly where Armando would be sitting - in the corner, with his laptop open - a tall, black coffee beside it. He'd have his suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair, a briefcase by his feet and an expensive silver pen in his hand - the one he clicked obsessively while he was thinking. No matter what he was doing when she arrived, his head would turn to greet her, his eyes radiating a warm welcome.

Mallorie approached him with a blushing smile, wearing the Columbia hoodie he had given her last time they met. Behind her, Jada followed with a backpack full of schoolbooks slung loosely over her shoulder, trudging through the store like their weight was a chore.

"Hey." Mallorie swiped her hand to the side. "This is my friend, Jada."

"Oh, right." Armando stood in recognition of the name. "The design girl." He is eyes immediately dropped to the case in her hand. "You play the trumpet?"

"I'm learning to..." Jada said with frustration, "but it's really hard."

"What are you having trouble with?" He retook his seat and pulled out the chair beside him.

"Well, I understand the fingering, but..." She laid her case on the table and sat. "It's the blowing part..."

"The buzzing...and your embouchure, all of that comes with practice. You have to exercise those lips," he said in a playfully suggestive tone.

Jada raised an eyebrow and grinned, removing her jacket with an exaggerated arch of her back. Mallorie shot her an Are you serious? look.

"That's a really old case," Armando said, ignoring them both. "Mind if I..."

"Go ahead." She pushed it in his direction. "It's from the 40's."

Armando flipped it open and let out a breath of awe. "Wow, it sure is." He lifted it up with reverence, sliding his fingers across the tarnished lacquer. "That is a vintage Cleveland Trumpet. How did you come by this?"

Jada started recounting the story while Mallorie sat with her arms crossed. Her head shook, her eyes scanning across the other patrons. It was precisely why she hadn't wanted to bring Jada to start with, but she had promised to include her in their meetings. Business...meetings, she wanted to say out loud, drumming her fingers lightly against the table. The second Jada stopped talking, Mallorie forced a change of subject.

"I'm really nervous about this banquet."

"How do you feel about speaking with your dad?"

"I'm terrified. What if he hates me or completely ignores me? I won't know what to do."

"Well, I'm sure he won't be comfortable," Armando said, "So he'll probably stay very cordial. He doesn't strike me as the hugging type." His eyes turned back to Jada, his chin pointing to the trumpet. "Let me hear you play it."

"I can't play it in here," Jada said, looking embarrassed.

"We'll take it outside a second." He stood and closed the case, giving a fast glance to Mallorie. "You don't mind right?"

Mallorie's cheeks sucked in. "No, of course not," she said tensely, watching them walk off together. She clasped her hands together and rested her chin on them, a habit of Armando's she was starting to pick up. Even inside the building, she could hear Jada play a terrible, halting scale, followed by her laughter. Armando made multiple gestures to her mouth, interested in giving instructions. Mallorie took a deep breath and lowered her eyes, trying to study the charts he had laid out for her. But the noise outside was distracting. Passers-by had stopped to listen and two old men began conversing with them. Unable to leave their laptops unattended, Mallorie could do nothing but observe them through the window, stewing at having been left alone. Retrieving a mirror from her purse, she shook out her hair and reapplied fresh lip gloss, her confidence level taking an unexpected hit. Ten minutes of prolonged waiting only raised her irritation. When they finally returned, her eyes darted down to the papers, trying to make it look like she hadn't been watching.

"If you ever have questions or need extra lessons, just call me," Armando was saying.

"Okay." Jada blushed while he dug through his pocket and handed her his card. Mallorie glared at her, wishing the promise of including her in their business hadn't been the new price of their friendship.

He sat, his eyes returning to Mallorie devoid of their normal focus. "So, what's our new cause?"

"Well, I was thinking of maybe doing..."

"Hey," Jada interrupted. "You should do a line of shirts that show the benefits of learning instruments, and have part of the proceeds go to help out local school bands."

Armando's brow rose. "I like that idea a lot. Do you?" His head inclined towards Mallorie.

"Sure," she answered coldly, her eyes burning holes in his head.

Armando leaned back in his chair, studying her sour expression with a grin of pure amusement, and that look didn't leave his face the rest of their meeting. Every time Mallorie's eyes lingered on his, they were met with the same smitten gaze. He walked with her out to the street when they left and took a hold of her arm before she got on the bus, leaning in close to whisper in her ear, "When am I going to get you alone?"

Air suddenly became a commodity Mallorie couldn't get enough of. "Soon, I hope," she gushed, not even sure of what she was saying, and not caring.

He nodded his head in the direction of the movie theater down the street. "The new Hunger Games is coming out next week. Is your mom gonna let you go?"

"I hope. I'll ask her," Mallorie said, sounding desperate to go and desperately sure her mother wouldn't allow it.

---

The sounds of people being eaten by zombies blared from the living room TV, making it hard to concentrate. Mallorie sat at the dining room table, her hair hanging down like a curtain while she tried to work on her homework, her eyes occasionally darting to her mother, who was laying on the couch with her feet up.

"Rough day?" she asked, trying to sound sympathetic.

Valeria lifted the cold rag from her eyes and peered over at her daughter. "Where is this heading?" she asked cautiously, recalling the last time Mallorie had opened a conversation with those words.

Mallorie laughed nervously. "Mom." She stood and walked over to sit on the chair by her side. "Do you think it would be okay if I went to the movies with Armando next week. Just right around..."

"The college boy?" her mother cut her off. "No."

"But mom..."

"A boy that age wants sex," her mother said sternly, "which is something you're not going to give him."

"The boys my own age want sex," Mallorie argued, her arms flailing out to her sides.

"You're not helping your cause." Valeria put the rag back over her eyes. A second later, she removed it again and sat up, studying her daughter. "Although...you do have a point."

Mallorie leaned forward with hopeful expectation, her hands clasped in begging fashion.

Valeria gave an unexpected sigh. "Alright. The early movie. And home immediately after. And I want to meet him."

"Thank you." Mallorie rushed to hug her before she'd even finished speaking.

"Homework," her mother said, directing her back to the table.

---

Night was never silent. It was sirens and traffic and babies crying and the sound of bus brakes squealing, occasionally mixed with the metallic echo of neighbors opening and shutting their doors. Mallorie laid in bed with her laptop open, watching a few beginner videos on how to play guitar. Her eyes lit at the sound of a private Facebook message, hoping it was Armando responding to her good news, but instead it was a message from Brooke with a frowny face that said, 'I hate my life.'

'Why?' she typed back.

'Everything is going wrong,' Brooke responded. 'I wish I was up at Choate with you.'
 
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stjwelding

stjwelding

Veteran Member
Kritter thanks for the chapter, you weave an intriguing web of events in the characters lives. Great story.
Wayne
 
Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Sympathy was easy to come by for Brooke, despite her ridiculous wealth. Normally on the softer side of timid, her voice now trembled with distress - long after their text messages turned into a phone call. Mallorie had the impression she'd been overly-sheltered, to the point where she couldn't handle simple problems. In this case, her world was falling apart because of her general daily boredom.

"Ever since we climbed over the boiler," Brooke was saying, "nothing seems as exciting."

Mallorie rolled over on her stomach and put her feet up in the air, still surfing the web while they spoke. "But you can do those things whenever you like."

"How? I've got school...and then I go ride."

"What about your friends?"

"They don't ever want to try anything new."

"Your Mom?"

Brooke gave an audible sigh. "She's staying in the city. There's no one here but our housekeeper. Besides, my mom's the one who thinks I should practice every day. Eventing is kind of...well, it requires a lot of time."

"Then why do it?" Mallorie asked.

"Because I like it...but it's still a pain in the ass. What do you do for fun in New Hampshire?"

"Work on my business...hang out with my friends," Mallorie said, realizing their ideas of fun were probably vastly different. She sat up and yawned, glancing at the clock, knowing it was well past midnight. Unable to stay in bed any longer, she stood and started pacing. "Do you still see little Clara?"

"No, not while I'm here, but Louisa's been taking her out."

"Really?" Mallorie smiled at the thought. "That's awesome. So um..." She carefully changed the subject, dying of curiosity but unsure if it was okay to ask. "What's your father like?"

"My dad? He's alright, he's just kind of...cold, you know? He's not very interactive. Definitely not like the dads on TV. He doesn't bother me too much though. What about yours?"

"My...dad?" Mallorie sat back down on her bed, debating how to answer. "He's um...he was amazing," she said, deciding she would talk about Willie. For all intents and purposes, the man had been her father, and she realized she was fortunate to have had him. He was wise in his parental advice to her, encouraging and supportive in her scholastic pursuits, and fair when she needed correction, often intervening for her with her much more hot-headed mother. "He used to read to me...take me to fun places. He taught me how to use the bus," she paused, knowing she'd misspoken, but not really caring. "He left us when I was twelve, but my mom still kind of loves him."

"That's so sad," Brooke said. "I don't think my parents have ever been in love. They don't even talk to each other." Her voice picked up bitchy tone. "I don't even know why my mother stays with him. My father is kind of a dick."

"So I keep hearing," Mallorie mumbled, her eyes nervously lifting to the banquet invitation that sat on top of her dresser, before lowering again to the clock. "Look, Brooke...there's other ways to fill your time that can be really rewarding. Why not take up a new language or learn an instrument. I'm going to try and learn guitar."

Brooke's voice instantly perked. "I want to learn guitar."

"Well, I'm doing the course that's online, so if you want, we can do it together."

"Oh, cool...don't start it yet. Wait for me. I'll go buy a guitar tomorrow," she said with excitement. "This will be great. I'm so glad I called you."

"Me too." Mallorie laughed. "Now go to sleep!"

---

Eating was impossible on Friday. The very thought of food made Mallorie nauseous, her stomach alternately cramping with nerves and fluttering with elation. She was going on a date with Armando. He was meeting her mother. And the banquet was just a few weeks away.

"Maybe I just won't say anything at all," Mallorie said, sitting across from Jada at lunch, her slice of pizza untouched. "Maybe I'll just pretend I don't know him."

"Don't back down," Jada said, annoyed. "You have the right to confront your father. You should be mad at him. Look him right in the eye and make him accountable."

"But what if he hates me?"

An evil smile spread across Jada's face. "All the more reason to make him squirm." She put her pinky to her lip and started a villainous laugh. "Mwhahahaaaa."

Mallorie grinned, a glint of steel sparking in her eyes. The thought of being the bearer of malevolence had its sinful appeal - one that filled her with a fresh sense of confidence and power. "You're right. I'm just gonna stare his ass down." She picked up her slice of pizza with renewed hunger.

"I would pay good money to see this," Jada said, shaking her head, disappointed that she couldn't come. "Make sure Armando films it."

"Oh god, Armando," Mallorie groaned, putting the pizza back down. "I hope my mother likes him."

"Like she wouldn't." Jada rolled her eyes.

---

Valeria scrutinized her daughter's date, not affording him an ounce of warmth until she was sure he was worth the welcome. She offered him a drink and made him sit, followed by rapid fire questions that included pointless things like where he grew up and what his parents did. "What comes after college?" she asked him, standing against the wall with her arms crossed.

"I'll run my own business, a music store probably."

"And if that fails?"

Armando laughed, unable to hide his amusement. "It won't. Nothing will ever come between me and success."

She pursed her lips, looking him up and down once more, before finally giving a light shrug. "All right. The movie ends at 9:10...I want her back here by 9:30."

"9:45" Mallorie bargained under her breath.

"9:40," her mother said, giving them both a deadpan stare, standing at the door and watching them until they got on the elevator.

"That was easy." Armando grinned

"I'm so sorry," she said, embarrassed.

---

Friday nights at the theater weren't made for watching movies. The audience was young and talkative, and overly interactive with the screen. Armando choose seats against the back wall and immediately started chatting about their sales and profit margins, before touching on the banquet.

"I think you should go up to accept by yourself...considering your father. And you'll be expected to give a short speech, which...can only help our business," Armando said, putting an arm casually around her shoulder.

"I can do that." She nodded confidently, aware the he had leaned in closer, his fingers lifting her chin.

"I really wanna kiss you," he murmured, sliding his hand around the back of her neck, not waiting for her response.

Mallorie closed her eyes, feeling the warm press of his lips against hers. Every sound in the theater disappeared save for the rush of her hammering pulse. Her body tingled with excitement. It was the most amazing kiss she'd ever had - electric and passionate, and it deepened in response to her enjoyment. When he broke the kiss, she whimpered for more, not caring to hide her desire.

"No matter what happens at that banquet, I'll be right beside you," he promised, squeezing her hand. "I'm not afraid of Matthew Durham."

Mallorie let out a heavy sigh. "I wish I could say the same," she whispered.
 
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Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Every step Mallorie took towards the banquet hall was followed by nervous internal debate. She didn't have to meet her father this way. She didn't have to meet him at all. Her life had been just perfect before learning he existed, and nothing had to change. Except here they were, and her feet were still moving, trudging over the Marriott's burgundy carpet, heading straight to the doors that led to the gallows. She paused at the entrance, the soft skirt of her dress falling lifelessly around her knees.

"I can't do this." She turned back into Armando's arms, hiding her face against his chest.

"Yes, you can." He peeled her hands from around his waist and led her firmly through the door. "What you do on the stage is up to you, but we're not leaving without getting our award."

"Okay." She relented, allowing him to guide her on a straight line to their table. The room was bustling with activity and bursts of laughter as people schmoozed with the competition's sponsors. Surveying their outfits, Mallorie felt at least more confident with her simple black, jacket-dress paired with short heels and a silver chain purse. The dress was form-fitting with just a hint of black lace around the bodice, because she'd been more interested in enticing Armando then in impressing her father.

"Do you see him?" Armando pulled out her chair and took a seat beside her, his eyes scanning the floor.

"No," she said, relaxing on her forearms, examining the polished white plates and gleaming silverware that sat above their dark red table cloth. There was a bottle of sparkling cider in the middle of the table along with flowers and a pair of lit candles. Mallorie focused on the flames for a minute, wanting to forget why she was there, and then she let her eyes refocus on the crowds beyond them. She knew Matthew Durham's face well enough to notice it from a distance and pondered again if her own face had anything in common with his - but she'd already noticed the similarities from his pictures.

"Did you bring your speech?" Armando thought to ask, in between chatting with the other nominees at their table.

Mallorie nodded. She had it memorized, from at least fifty times of practicing it in front of a mirror. Applauds rose over the room's conversations, and she lifted her head towards the door, knowing it meant he'd arrived. The skin on her face and on the back of her neck suddenly felt on fire, watching Matthew Durham walk in. He shook hands with a long line of people on the way to his table, and Katherine glided in behind him in a long, silver gown, exuding grace and cordiality.

Mallorie stiffened at the sight of him, every muscle tensed, and she sucked in a breath and held it, swallowing back her nerves. She hadn't expected Matthew's wife to be there, and her presence just multiplied her fears. Lights flickered and dimmed, prompting the attendees to find their seats, and one of the sponsors walked up on the stage to tap on the microphone on the podium.

"Good evening," he said, his words of initial greeting becoming one long buzz in Mallorie's ear. She'd never told her mother that Matthew would be at the awards banquet, because she didn't want to upset her, but she now wished she had heeded her warnings. It felt like so much was at stake: her heart, her confidence, and her emotional well-being could all be shattered in an instant. Clapping from the audience renewed her attention, her nerves momentarily warmed by the speakers words. She'd almost forgotten she'd actually earned her place at the banquet, and she managed to join her fellow nominees in feeling the pride of their achievements. Waiters streamed quietly into the room between the tables, taking orders and passing out hors d'oeuvres. Then the speaker finished handing out accolades and introduced Matthew Durham.

Armando glanced at Mallorie as he walked up on the stage, observing her ashen complexion and shaking hands. He put a reassuring arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a huddle. "When he calls your name, you'll walk up to that stage with your chin up, and take all the strength and confidence of your working girls with you," he said. "And if he looks angry or mad, we'll deal with that later, but you'll walk back to me the same way you walked up...ready to make steel for a destroyer."

Mallorie smiled, taking a deep breath as Matthew started on some honorable mentions, and then she gulped down a glass of cider, painfully aware that she was next when he called upon the fifth place winner. He applauded them as they walked off the stage and then returned to the podium.

"Our fourth place award goes to..." Suddenly his voice dropped off and his lips tightened, his eyes lifting to scan across the audience with an expression as dark as storm clouds. Mallorie could see Katherine turn in her chair, trying to determine what had unnerved him. Matthew's lip twitched. He loosened his tie and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me," he apologized, losing the warmth in his voice. "Our fourth place award goes to..." Through the darkened depth of faces, his eyes found her like a sniper, and they lingered with fierce intensity. "Mallorie Ortiz...and Armando Martinez, for Chariot Apparel."

Mallorie stood, grabbing on to Armando's hand as her legs buckled beneath her. She took a deep breath and rallied her resolve, lifting her chin as he had instructed - and managed to approach the stage with dignity. Matthew's eyes locked on to hers as she walked up the steps. His face was ice, his expression a carefully-honed, stiff facade meant to hide his simmering anger, but as Mallorie made her way to the podium, he made sure that she saw it.

She laid her speech down on the podium top and smoothed it out with her hands, lowering the microphone a little. "Thank you," she said calmly, turning to face Matthew Durham, holding her cold stare a second longer than she had to. His expression didn't change, but she smiled to herself, having honored Jada's words.

"If it wasn't for the determination of a friend to help out another human being, I would probably never have known about the women who took over men's jobs during World War II, or how their striking out into the working world had such a huge impact upon the women of the future," she started, continuing to speak while her eyes glanced sideways. Matthew Durham had stepped out of the lights and was looking through their project folder. She relaxed, seeking Armando's face out in the crowd and speaking just to him. "Chariot was born to serve a dual purpose...creating shirts that made girls my age aware of these women, while helping to create a monument in their honor, but it's become so much more than that." She started listing their further projects, glancing one more time at Matthew, noticing his blue eyes now studied her with interest.

"Hopefully, we can make an impact upon the women of the future too," she finished quickly. She stepped away from the podium and turned towards Matthew Durham, who had approached her with an extended hand. She looked him full in the face and shook it firmly.

"Very good." He gave a brief nod of approval.

"Thank you." She bit back a smile, trying to hide the pleasure his praise brought her. His eyes refused to yield an ounce of warmth as they directed her back to her chair, but it didn't even matter. In just two short words, he'd made her feel he was mildly impressed with her endeavor, and she returned to her chair with tears of relief. Upon reaching her seat, she peered back at her father. His icy eyes were still hard upon her, and then they shifted to Armando, who meet his dark gaze with equal intensity.
 
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Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Prime rib was served with roasted potatoes, followed by coffee and pie. While Mallorie ate, she monitored her father, noticing he didn't glance back. Hoping it meant his anger had abated, she tried to enjoy herself. With Katherine there, she couldn't approach him, and even though it ruined her plans, it eased her apprehension. Stuffed from the dinner, she poked at her dessert while chatting with the first place winner - a sixteen-year-old kid whose start-up had earned him close to a million dollars.

"I have so many other great ideas," the excited teen mentioned, pouring himself some more coffee while the waiter took away his plate. "If you'd ever like to back one..." He slid a card to both her and Armando. "I'm always looking for investors."

"So are we." Armando grinned, passing the young man their card in exchange, and then he leaned back in his chair and let out a yawn, glancing at his watch.

"I'm ready if you are." Mallorie turned in her seat to gather her purse, and then paused, observing a fair-haired man in a black suit who strolled up behind her.

"Miss Ortiz," he said quietly, lowering his head slightly. "If you don't mind, Mr. Durham would like a word with you." He lifted his hand towards the door, inviting her to accompany him.

The color drained from Mallorie's face. "Right now?" she said, glancing at Armando, who rose protectively behind her.

"Please," the man reiterated, holding his position.

"You don't have to go," Armando said calmly, his eyes locked on the stranger.

"No...that's okay. I'll go." She stood, taking a moment to close her eyes, trying to bolster her courage.

"Wait, I'll go with you." Armando reached for his jacket and then slowed as the escort shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Just her," the man said firmly.

Mallorie turned and hugged Armando. "I'll be alright," she whispered against his cheek before following the suited man into the hallway.

"This way, please," he said with a friendly smile, although it reminded her of the smile a dental assistant gave as they led you to the chair. The sympathetic smile that could only promise you'd at least leave in one piece. She followed him down a long corridor, experiencing a pang of adrenaline she could only assume was her 'fight or flight' instinct wanting her to run the opposite way. They stopped in front of a meeting room and her escort opened the door, stepping aside for her to enter.

Mallorie peered cautiously inside the room. Her breath caught at the sight of Matthew Durham, who sat alone at the far end of a long, rectangular table, an inscrutable expression on his face. For a second, she felt light-headed, and had to grab on to the doorframe - her brain struggling not to short circuit under the pressure.

Matthew's eyes moved from her to a space at the end of the table. She took a few shaky steps inside, stopping where he had indicated. His eyes then flicked to the fair-haired man, who bowed his head and left, closing the door behind him. Mallorie took a breath and swallowed, her entire body trembling.

Matthew sat with his hands on the table, one folded over the other. "I'll assume you know," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Yes," she said, unable to raise her own voice above a whisper.

"Can I also assume you're not here just for the competition?" he said, without a trace of pity or caring on his face.

"Well..." She shifted uneasily on her feet. "No...not...just, but..."

Matthew lifted his fingers slightly, staying her words, appearing annoyed with her incoherency and impatient to get to the point. "Why don't you just tell me what your intentions are."

"My intentions?" she stammered.

He shook his head like she was stupid. "What...do you want from me, Miss Ortiz?"

"Just an opportunity," she gushed in an idealistic voice, taking a single step forward. "A chance for me to make something of myself."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at her. "You want...an opportunity?"

"Yes," she said, regaining some strength in her voice. "I'm almost half way through my senior year, and I know that you have internships..." She paused, confused by her father's strange and sudden change of expression. His eyes widened and his jaw grew slack.

"You want an internship?" he said, sounding greatly surprised.

"Yes."

"At D.V.C?" his surprise continued.

"Yes." She nodded.

Matthew's face morphed back into a mask of hardened steel as he leaned one elbow back on the arm of his chair and studied her for a moment, and then he tilted his head, his mouth and eyebrows lifting in consideration. "How are your grades?"

"Straight A's with honors."

"AP Calc?"

"Yes."

He stared down at his hands in thought before regarding her again. "I remember Mr. Martinez from last year's competition. Your...business," he said, with a skeptical voice, "How much of it was him?"

"We went in fifty-fifty..."

Matthew shook his head like she had missed the gist of his question.

Mallorie's temper rose, maddened by his implications. "I put in just as much work as he did," she said with conviction. "In fact, probably more. At least 75%. It was my idea."

He gave another impassive nod. "What are you looking at for college?" he asked, for the first time sounding honestly interested.

"Columbia, probably. Business Major. And I want my MBA."

"Not Columbia. No." He shook his head. "You'll go to NYU. I know people at Stern."

"But I wanted..."

"Do you want my help?" he interrupted.

"Yes." She lowered her eyes.

"Then don't question what I'm telling you."

"Okay," she said softly, waiting as he pulled a pad from his pocket and scribbled some information on it.

"There's a real estate course online here" he said, sliding the paper to her. "Charge it to that account number. You can take the test for your license when you turn 18. Make sure you pass it. You're gonna need it." He steepled his fingers in front of his face while she tucked the paper in her purse. "What exactly did your mother tell you?"

"Only that you were my father."

"Nothing else?"

"No," she answered plainly. "She refuses to talk about it."

His eyes scoured her face for the truth of her answer. "Have you told anyone?"

She gave him a guilty nod. "Armando."

"Are you a couple?"

"Kind of. We've been out on a few dates."

He clasped his hands together again and rubbed one over the other, sighing at her indiscretion. "If I'm going to help you, Miss Ortiz, I going to need your word. You don't tell anyone. You don't hint at it. You don't mention it by accident. Not once. No one knows we're related, and it needs to stay that way. Break any one of those promises to me, and I will make you live to regret it. I'm going out on a limb for you here. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Mallorie said, feeling like a mouse under his predator-like gaze. "That's not a problem."

"Take the course, pass the test, get your license," he said, pulling a card from his suit pocket. "Call me when you have it and we'll go from there."

"Thank you," she said

Matthew's face lit with a ghost of a smile. "You did a very nice job on Chariot," he said.

"Thank you," she said again, breaking into a smile, walking over to take his card from his hand.

"I'm sure your friend is waiting," he said, glancing at the door.

Mallorie nodded, unable to hide her tears of relief.

Matthew pulled an iPhone from his pocket, coldly dismissing her emotions.

She exited into an empty hall, walking back the way she came, unescorted. Her mind was a jumble of excitement and a single, crazy thought. Matthew Durham was actually impressed. She saw it in his eyes. And he thought she had potential. It could only open doors for her, both in business and in her future relationship with him...if he would allow it. She caught sight of Armando, who stood waiting on her anxiously just outside the banquet room. Seeing the tears on her face, he raced over to her with concern, and just as he did that, she paused in her tracks. If Matthew ever found out that she'd befriended Brooke...
 
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N

nancy98

Veteran Member
Yeah, she should have told him she was frineds with his daughter. At least told him it was an accident meeting that led to their knowing eachother.

Very good story. Thank you.
 
Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Snow clung to the bottom of Mallorie's window screen like a beard, insulating her toasty room from the winter storm outside. Daylight crawled across her floor and crept over her eyes. She opened them slowly, lifting her head, the imprint of her laptop's keyboard criss-crossing the side of her cheek. Her eyes darted to her clock and she groaned, reluctantly sitting up to stretch out her back with a head-splitting yawn. Leaning to the side, she checked her computer, trying to discern at what point in her online course she'd nodded out. Hearing footsteps, she turned its screen, hiding it protectively from her mother.

"Don't bother getting dressed," Valeria said, peering into her room. "School's closed today."

"Is it?" she asked, folding her laptop and running to the window, gazing out across a landscape of slushy streets and impassible sidewalks, piled high with gritty mounds of plowed snow.

"What a mess." Her mother walked up beside her. "You know, it was a day just like this when I met Willie," she reminisced. "I was late for work and I was so mad. He was sitting right behind me on the nine o'clock bus and he kept breaking into uproarious laughter, and it was just...irritating the hell out of me. So finally, I turned around and growled at him, 'What's so funny?' and he said, 'Did you see Seinfeld last night?" Valeria started giggling, nearly doubling over. "And I said, 'Oh, god...yes! That was hysterical,' and we ended up laughing all the way down Douglass Blvd." She smiled, her own mood apparently cheered by the memory. "He went out of his way to take the earlier bus just to chat with me after that."

"That's cute," Mallorie said, casting a nervous glance as her phone started ringing on her dresser. She took a step towards it but her mother reached it faster, titling her head to the side, her eyebrows rising skyward. "B.D.?" she said suspiciously, looking like she was about to blow her lid.

"It's not Brooke," Mallorie said quickly. "It's one of my friend's from school. That's just what they call her."

Valeria crossed her arms. "Then answer it," she said, picking up the phone and holding it out to Mallorie.

Mallorie bit her lip, taking it from her hand. "Hello?" she said cautiously.

Her mother leaned in, listening to the response.

"Hola!" Brooke said excitedly. "Como esta?"

"Hola," Mallorie said back, glancing at her mother, who shrugged with an apologetic face, assuming she'd been wrong.

"I'm leaving early for work," she mentioned, lingering at her door. "Don't waste the whole day on your computer, please."

"I won't," Mallorie called after her, folding her hand over her phone and turning back towards the window. "Hey," she whispered.

"I'm learning Spanish," Brooke enthused. "So I can chat with Clara. And I did the next guitar lesson. I'm up to page fourteen. I'm getting really good at this. I'll be Taylor Swift before you know it. Do you have off today, too?"

"Yeah."

"Have you caught up to me yet?" she asked, strumming her guitar, the sound echoing through the empty halls of her home.

"No," Mallorie frowned. "I haven't had any spare time, between school and my business and this...online class I'm taking."

"What is it?" Brooke questioned.

"Just this...online thing," she answered, trying to remain curt, hoping to cut the phone call short, knowing Brooke would talk forever if she let her. She felt terrible trying to distance herself from their friendship, understanding how lonely Brooke was, but she didn't want there to ever be a chance that she might mention her name to her parents. "Hey, I have something I have to do. I'll call you later."

"Okay," Brooke said, disappointed. "Oh, before you go, do you mind if I bring Clara with me to the launch party?"

"No, not at all," Mallorie said. "I'd love to see her."

"Good," Brooke's voice picked up a smile. "I'll see you there. I'll probably stay the weekend with my Mom at the hotel, if you wanna do something after."

"I'll try," Mallorie said, ending the call and sighing at her computer. The real estate course was taking an enormous amount of work, and it required seventy-two hours of attendance. She slapped a hand to her forehead as her phone rang again.

"Hello?" she said, not recognizing the number.

"Miss Ortiz, hi, this is Mr. Gant from the shipyard."

"Oh." She perked up. "How's it going?"

"Good. I just heard from the monument company. They'll be here next Thursday...if you wanted to be here when they put it up."

"Absolutely," she said, marking the date. "I need to take pictures for our web page."

---

Bundled in three layers of clothing to ward against the biting cold, Mallorie stepped off the ferry with chattering teeth. The fishy, fetid smell of bay water was strong in the air. She rewrapped her scarf so it covered her nose and then tightened the strings on her hood.

"At least it's not snowing," Armando said, waving for a taxi, before sticking his hands back in his pockets to keep them from freezing. They both stood stone still, side by side, like a pair of human icicles, the only two people crazy enough to be standing outside the terminal. "Does your mother know you took the day off?" he asked.

"Hell no." Mallorie laughed, mimicking her mother's voice as she climbed in the cab. "School before business...always."

"Well, it's nice to have a little un-metered time with you," he said, sliding in beside her and giving her a kiss that quickly turned into a six block long make-out session complete with roaming hands, although they were both too cold to remove their gloves.

---

Seven feet tall and cast in bronze, the statue was rolled out of a U-haul truck and hoisted onto it's pre-laid anchor, making it nine feet in total. Mallorie took pictures during every step, wanting to immortalize its construction for its donors. Mr. Gant walked out in a long coat and hat, and he sucked in his lips at the sight of it. "I felt the need to thank you both," he said, trying to reign in his strong emotions. "It's so rare to see young people even consider a project like this, let alone accomplish it. You both did an outstanding job, and it's greatly appreciated. Your parents should be very proud of you."

"Thanks," they both responded in unison.

"And that reminds me." Mallorie reached in her back pocket and pulled out an invitation. "We wanted to personally invite you to our launch party. It's three weeks from now...at the Royal," she said, pointing at a distant sliver of high rise.

"Well, thank you." The man bowed his head. "I haven't been to a party in twenty years. Maybe I'll actually come."

"Oh, you have to," Mallorie said firmly. "If I hadn't seen the pictures in your office, none of this would have happened."

"Then I'll definitely come," he promised. "If only to shake your parents' hands."

Mallorie set up her camera to take one more photo of the statue with the three of them beneath it, and then they bid a hasty retreat back into the taxi's warm interior. Armando removed a single glove and run a cold hand against her face, kissing her with passion, ignoring his ringing cellphone. Before they left the cab, he pulled it out just to glance at the incoming number. "Well..that's interesting," he said, holding it up for her to read.

"Durham Venture Capital," she whispered.
 
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stjwelding

stjwelding

Veteran Member
Thanks Kritter for the chapter I wonder what the phone call is about an offer of a job or a warning to disappear from Mallorie life. Just thinking on the key board.
Wayne
 
Kritter

Kritter

The one and only...
Floating in the air in front of her building's front steps, Mallorie stopped before the monument, wondering what it was doing by her home. Confused, she stared at the towering women. One of the figures bent to its knee, a slender bronze arm stretching towards her. Mallorie turned to run, but her feet wouldn't move. The air was cement. The ground was glue. And someone was shoving her shoulder.

"Mal," Jada's voice said with a hushed shout. "Mal, wake up."

She lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes, trying to focus, spasmodically wiping the drool from the side of her cheek. Her thoughts were still foggy; the teacher's voice a distant murmur. The overhead lights hurt her eyes. She closed them and laid her head back down on her desk.

"Wake...up," Jada growled again, kicking her shin. "You're gonna get in trouble."

"I'm exhausted," Mallorie moaned.

"Then get more sleep," Jada counseled, peering nervously at their teacher, who now glanced in their direction. "She's looking. Come on, wake up."

Mallorie lifted her head again, but her eyelids felt so heavy. She sat up straight and shook her hands, trying to fight off her fatigue. Papers sat laid out in front of her with course notes on them, but none of it made any sense. Mortgages, liens, titles and commissions were all just meaningless words. "I'm so screwed," she whispered to Jada. "I'm never gonna pass this test."

"Why do you need a real estate license anyhow?" Jada said. "What's that have to do with the internship?"

"I have no idea," Mallorie admitted, flipping her notepad over to copy her French notes from the blackboard - not that she had any interest in the language, but the only other choice was Spanish. "My father said to take it, so I'm taking it."

"Hey, did you see Brooke's birthday party pictures?" Jada changed the subject, stuffing her books into her backpack in anticipation of the bell.

"How could I not?" Mallorie snorted. "She posted them on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram before she emailed them to me. And oh god...that beautiful car..." She rolled her eyes with jealousy at the memory of Brooke's new Camaro. "I don't suppose my father will buy one for me," she lamented, rising with the bell.

"What would you even do with it?" Jada laughed.

"I dunno...sell it and buy a condo," Mallorie decided, starting for the door.

"Miss Ortiz," her teacher called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. "That's the third time this week you've fallen asleep in my class."

Mallorie winced, spinning on her heels. "I know, I'm sorry. I've been really busy. I promise it won't happen again."

"Make sure it doesn't," the woman said. "I'd hate to see you fail."

Jada raised her eyes at Mallorie. "Did I really just hear that word and your name in the same sentence?"

"It was two sentences," Mallorie grumbled. "Bad enough I have to take that test next month, but stupid Armando kept me on the phone until two a.m. last night."

"Phone sex?" Jada offered.

"No, we were fighting," she frowned, stopping at her locker and swapping out her books. "Because my father offered him a position working with their start-ups in Los Angeles."

"Why's he trying to get rid of him?" Jada asked.

"Thank you," Mallorie said, appreciating her coinciding viewpoint. "That was the first thing I thought too, but Armando got insulted that I implied it. He said my father recognized that he was good at developing businesses, and he insists it has nothing to do with me."

"Bullshit," Jada laughed, then took a moment to reconsider. "Although..."

"I know, I know." Mallorie stopped her. "It's possible it's true...but..." She took a moment to rub her eyes as pain licked against her temples. "...the fact that he's even considering it..."

"Well, you haven't been together that long," Jada pointed out.

"Still," Mallorie said, feeling the unwelcome stab of heartache. She glanced down at her watch and then towards the door of her math class. "I guess I'll meet you at Marshall's after school. We'll get you a dress for the launch party."

"One more week," Jada squealed, her excitement over the event growing. "What kind of dress should I get? I want something hot."

"Whatever you like." Mallorie grinned, reaching into her pocket and flashing the edge of a $100 bill.

---

Paper airplanes hung from the ceiling, surrounded by tiny lights, which glittered like stars above the polished obsidian floor that graced the Royal's ballroom. Old movie posters papered the walls and the staff all was attired in WW2 uniforms and dresses. The bartenders wore their hair parted on the side and offered things like Whiskey Sours and Manhattans, and the servers walked the floor in high-heels, offering hors d'oeuvres from cigarette trays. Mallorie beamed as her mother and Jada entered the room behind her, each wearing an expression of wonder.

"This is incredible," Valeria said, boggling at the eighteen-piece orchestra and their little bubble machine. "This must have cost you a fortune."

"We threw a little of our own money into it," Mallorie said, wisely not mentioning the two thousand dollars the orchestra alone had cost them. "But we only have the room for a few hours," she lied, needing her mother to leave before Brooke arrived, if she had any hope of keeping their paths from crossing. Jada edged into a chair, glancing up at the chandeliers, looking a little uncomfortable in the still empty room.

"The guests will be arriving soon," Mallorie reassured her, knowing how her friend hated being bored.

"Where's Armando?" her mother asked, believing he should have already been there.

Mallorie looked around the room and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I have no idea." Since their discussion over her father's job offer turned ugly, he'd spoken with her very little, and she didn't know what to make of it. That he could seemingly turn off his affection bothered her, and made her wonder how much he'd cared to start with. It was a painful thought she could barely handle on top of everything else she was dealing with.

From their riser behind the dance floor, the band started playing Begin The Beguine, and the upbeat tempo instantly took Mallorie's mind from her problems. "I guess I should go greet the guests," she said, excusing herself and heading for the lobby.


Begin the Beguine
 
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