Faster on My Own: Chapter 13
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Steven strode into his family mansion. Unlike his arrival a year and a half ago, he now did so with his head held high. Nodding to the security guard–a different one, he had to have the one from before fired for the sake of appearances– he crossed the threshold and stood in the glimmering foyer. This wealth still outraged him, but the rage no longer flooded his body and beat against his skin for any opening through which to burst and consume its target. Now it pulsed and receded, and Steven could easily smile as his mother descended down the staircase.
“Hi, mom.”
“Oh, Steven! You’re here. How wonderful.” His mother hooked an arm through Steven’s elbow before he even registered that she was near him. “I believe your father wants to talk to you.”
“I’d like to talk to you first, though.” Steven glanced at the walls. Cream paint, golden light fixtures. It’d all be very tacky if the paint wasn’t so expensive and the gold wasn’t real. “Did you see my performance on The Holmann Hour?”
“You know, I did. You were very passionate. I thought it was quite entertaining.” His mother laughed and pressed her free hand against her chest. “Especially all Soros stuff. You know, we used to run in the same circles as Soros and I think all of the heat he gets is unfounded. The man loves capitalism. Just loves it.”
“Of course. Nothing on that show is real. It’s just meant to let people lose themselves in a more exciting world for an hour. It’s fun.”
“Oh, I agree completely. Your father, on the other hand, is a little peeved. Sorry, he didn’t want me to tell you that. You know how he loves a surprise.”
Steven realized then that they were approaching the door to his father’s second study, where he would go when he was too agitated to focus in his usual one. He had only considered how much going on The Holmann Hour would boost his conservative credentials. Perhaps his father had other priorities. “Do we really have to go see him right this second? Couldn’t we grab a quick lunch first? I’m sure he’s busy reading his reports. You know how he loves them.”
“No, he was pretty clear.” His mom puffed out her chest and affected a deep voice. “When Steven comes here, bring him right to me. No delays.” She exhaled and laughed. “It’s so funny the way he gets worked up.” They paused in front of the door to the study. Dark wood, varnished so it looked black, but the grain still shone through when the light hit it just right.
“Okay.” Steven knocked on the door. It creaked open, and Steven stepped through. Mr. Williams stood at the opposite end of the room, standing and poring through a book. The door closed behind Steven.
“Sit down, Steven.” He sank into the leather couch as his father paced in front of him. His father’s long strides back and forth which intermittently blocked the lamp like a recurring eclipse took Steven back to his childhood, when his father would loom above him whenever he had done wrong, blocking out all light and space and everything except his father’s disapproval.
“I think you know why I wanted to talk to you. At least I hope you do.”
This was the time to stand his ground. If he did not appear to have conviction in his actions, the very beliefs he hoped to stand on would be suspect. “I know, I know. The Holmann Hour is not a respectable program, but I’ve got some news that might change your mind about my appearance on it.”
“Change my mind? You were on stage with a fool, talking about lizard people. How is that good for our reputation? How does that not damage my credibility?” Mr. Williams stretched his hand out toward the wall, where Steven was supposed to image the throngs of people gossiping about his appearance.
“I never said anything about lizard people. But yes, I engaged in a little bit of conspiracy theorizing. That’s what the people want. It’s the sugar that makes the medicine go down. And I’ll just tell you right now, I’ve been offered my own show, where I just get to talk about whatever I want for an hour a week”
“Absolutely not.” Mr. Williams leveled a thick finger in Steven’s direction, which shook with his father’s characteristic tremble. “You will not engage in that foolishness. Doing so makes all of us, you, me, your brother, your sister, your mother, look ridiculous. We are a dignified family.”
Steven stood up. In the past, this is where he would tell his father to fuck off. He would storm out and do whatever he wanted, only restoring contact in the ensuing months or years. But now, he’d be sacrificing his job and with it, his apartment. Things were coming together. With one foot in business and another in conservative news, he could build a political career. Lacking one or the other, he’d struggle. So, he said, “Mr. Williams, this is good. It’s a good thing. I’m not going to be doing any sort of chemtrails, flat earth bullshit on my show. That thing with Holmann got my foot in the door, that’s it. With my own spot, I’m going to be smart, I’m going to be level-headed, and I’m going to be right. If people like me, that’ll wash over onto all of us. You know how these guys are selling vitality shakes and brain pills and literal snake oil. Imagine how well this audience would respond when one of their idols has an actual product to sell. A product that everyone knows works because it’s an enormous, prestigious corporation.”
“Or everyone decides to take their business elsewhere because you make a spectacle of yourself on television.” His father retreated to a corner of the room, still pacing in the little space between the walls of books that flanked him on both sides. “I don’t know why you want to do this. You have a good job, with a high chance of advancement. Let’s be honest, you’re my son. That gives you a pretty good shot of further promotion. So I don’t know what desire this show fills.”
“I like doing it.” Steven squeezed the leather arm of the couch. Liking it wouldn’t be enough. “I think the discourse in this country is terrible, and I can help fix it.” Still not good enough. “I need to do this. It’s not just about convincing other people, it’s about me. I spent my whole life converting people to a ridiculous ideology that ruined the lives of everyone it touched. I have to make up for that.”
Mr. Williams stared at Steven, who stood up. His father was thinking. Steven could tell from a slight squint that his father always did when deep in thought. If he was about to be disowned again, Steven didn’t know if the show would be worth it. Certainly, he’d still have a chance to build influence, but he wouldn’t have his father’s deep business connections. It might be time to abandon the whole project. He could still go back, even after his video and television appearance. Sure, he’d have to explain it all, and his friends wouldn’t trust him very much, but it wouldn’t be impossible.
The door opened and Steven spun around to see who it was. His brother, with a grin on his face, strutted into the room. “I had to come when I saw you on TV.”
“You flew across the country because you saw me on TV? What about a phone? Video chat?” Steven wished he hadn’t sounded so dismayed by his brother’s appearance, but their first meeting had gone poorly when Steven had hours to prepare himself. This surprise felt like waking up in a shark tank.
His brother buzzed past the table full of papers and clasped Steven’s shoulder in a vicegrip. Steven didn’t know if he should be trying to break free, if he was supposed to flex the muscle in his arm as some kind of alternative handshake power game, or what. Ben shook Steven’s limp, unprepared hand. “How could I settle for a phone call when my own brother was on Holmann Hour? That was incredible.”Mr. Williams squinted even harder. “You enjoy that show, Ben?”
“Everyone does. At least, everyone I interact with. Dad, you really need to give it another chance.” Steven waited for Mr. Williams to balk at being called “Dad,” but nothing happened. Had Ben won the privilege of calling him “Dad?” What the hell kind of parenting lets a kid start saying Dad at thirty years old? Perhaps after he landed the Procter & Gamble job, Ben had finally achieved enough success for Mr. Williams to be comfortable with Ben as his son.
“I absolutely will not. In fact, I was just in the middle of telling Steven that he absolutely could not have his own show.”
“His own show?” Ben’s eyes lit up and he turned a wide smile toward Steven, who had never seen such an expression on his brother’s face and winced when first exposed to it. “They’re giving you a show?”
“Just five minutes. A segment, really. I think it’s a good idea. Mr. Williams disagrees.”
Ben stepped into the middle ground between Steven and his father. “You have to let him do it, Dad. I know it seems crazy. But even a crank like Holmann has a million fans.”
Mr. Williams scoffed and grabbed a nearby tablet. “One million?”
“Look it up.”
“I already am.” Ben and Steven waited as their father’s taps on the screen were the only sounds in the room. Steven could hardly believe that he and Ben had formed a unified front on any matter, let alone one so important to Steven’s continued plan. He looked at his brother’s back as he stood in opposition to their father and felt a twinge of appreciation, before remembering that his brother stood for the ruination of the world and would be among the first to die in the revolution.
“Huh.”
“What’d I tell you? A million fans.” Ben laughed and glanced back at Steven.
“Looks like nine hundred thousand daily viewers. That’s not one million.” Mr. Williams tossed the tablet back onto the table and crossed his arms.
“Come on. They’re not the same every day. That works out to probably a full million fans. Steven’s got a chance to get that kind of audience. Do you know what Holmann sells to his audience? He’s got an oil that you rub on your skin that protects you from chemtrails and mutation from cosmic rays. And they lap it up. This isn’t just a chance for Steven to get famous, it’s an enormous business opportunity. They’re going to pay him to advertise your company.”
Steven approached his brother’s shoulder and squeezed it gently, nodding. “Plus, I’m going to be a very reasonable presence. No reptilians. I’m probably going to call some people communists because that’s coming back in a big way. Just let me give it a chance. If I’m too embarrassing, or if it’s not working, I’ll back out.”
Their father sat behind his desk and put on a pair of reading glasses, which he then tilted down his nose to glance at his sons. It struck Steven as a bit theatrical. “Fine. We’ll give it a chance. But Steven, when you’re on that show, you represent our entire family, our entire company. So don’t make an ass out of yourself. Now, I have some work to do.”
Steven and Ben retreated wordlessly out of the door. Once it shut behind them, Steven said, “Thanks for helping me out in there.”
Ben brushed past Steven, frowning at a painting on the wall. “Now you’ll have to put on a conservative act in front of an audience of true believers. Think you can keep it up?”
“I can do it. It’s just me, and what I think.”
“If you say so.” Ben strode down the hallway and out of sight, while Steven leaned against the wall. The plan was still alive.