Living On Top

A lifetime of these things and he should’ve been quite used to them now. Dalton had as many charities he was a patron of as he had wives and girlfriends over the year, almost every weekend spent vulgarly splashing his wealth at one event or another, typically with said wife or girlfriend clinging onto his arm. It didn’t matter that the same money had been blackened by the way he had obtained it, what else he chose to spend it on. It was charity and patting those poor, sick, weak people on the head and making their lives just a little better for a moment meant everything. Especially if it happened on camera. Will had been eyeing the cameras here distastefully all night. Surely Dalton could do without him parading around in front of them. He’d played cat and mouse with them all night, choosing to drift through the crowd instead, a minnow avoiding the sharks.

He had seen them circling as he had himself. Men obliging their wives, just the opposite too. Those opposed to be stuck here slowly working their way to the outskirts of the floor, high society’s version of a high school prom, only with far more backstabbing and a lot less subtlety about it.

Knowing that he couldn’t disappear from the fringes of the crowd to one of the doors people were still drifting in through in dribs and drabs with Dalton managing to reach out to him from hundreds of miles away, Will had retrieved two glasses of champagne from a passing server and had found himself a kindred spirit on that ragged edge of the crowd. He’d spotted him earlier, when they had all been trotted around, exchanging names as though any of them would bother to remember them once they slipped away from this. One corner of his mouth lifted at the polite thanks for the champagne he handed over. ”You’re welcome,” he drawled lightly. A heavy mouthful of his own slipped down easily enough, the first of at least half a dozen he was going to need to get through the drone of speeches.

Will made a low sound in his throat as the man … Christian, the name floated up from the depths of his memory … confirmed that he wasn’t the only one prepared to escape by any means necessary. Perhaps he wasn’t tethered by a parent in the same way but there’d been a woman with him earlier, a wedding ring circling his finger now. ”Not at all,” he assured him. ”Hopefully no more evident than it was on my own. I like to think I put on a good show at these things but usually they’re little better than ghastly.” It had been a relief when he had been able to escape Dalton’s reach for a time, or at least believe he had. Now he knew that cord stretched further than he had thought.

Blue eyes swept the crowd, returning to the man beside him as his story emerged, echoing his own to the point where he chuckled. Will slipped his other hand into his pocket, looking back towards him. ”The same with my father, although it would’ve been far more surprising if he had made it. It’s a long way from New York to Mystic Falls.” One dark brow rising, he glanced around the room, looking for the brunette Christian had been with earlier. ”Your wife was with you earlier?” She had slipped away now, the same way Zoey would’ve done before she’d taken his hand and dragged him out, even more uncomfortable with the situation than he was with himself. Snorting faintly through his nose, Will shook his head. ”In a way I suppose, but they were always relatively painful. I take it your parents were on the benefit circuit?” He lifted his glass, squinting at Christian over the top of it. The country was wide but Dalton had made those trips outside of New York for particular causes that were somehow close to his heart, as though he actually had one. Familiar faces had shown up wherever they were, drifting in and out in the same way Dalton always had.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 696

In New York the newspapers would’ve been filled with reports of the benefit the next morning. Dalton beaming at the cameras, New York’s police commissioner again donating a huge amount of money to help some cause or another. If his son had been dragged along he would’ve been towed in front of the cameras too, or at least be expected to attempt to get his name in the yawn inducing rehash of rubbery chicken and elbow rubbing with men just like his father. Will had almost been glad when he’d married and Zoey’s discomfort at these things had become obvious. It gave him an out some of the time, a reason to hole up at home with his wife instead of going on parade. If he hadn’t been able to bluff his way out of it he still had company, someone to take out onto the dance floor, to draw in close and let everything else just melt away to background noise until they could make their escape. Here he was alone but undoubtedly no less under the spotlight.

It was all too easy to imagine Dalton in his office in the morning, nose pressed to the screen as he checked the websites of the local newspapers to try and spot his son. The 21st century way to track every move he made now he was out from under his father’s thumb.

Will’s laugh was full of relief. He pressed his lips together, humming lightly as he nodded. Perhaps he’d made a better show of it on camera than he’d thought, at least enough to get Dalton off of his back for a time. ”I’m glad to hear it. A poor show and undoubtedly I’d be signed up for the next dozen just to teach me my lesson.” Not that he’d ever accept one from Dalton. He was still shackled to his father’s image here but there was just enough slack to those bindings that he’d been able to stretch them. A little more perhaps, a few more years of living in what some would imagine was little more than a pimple on the backside of nowhere and he would finally be entirely out from under Dalton’s thumb.

Sipping his wine with one hand, Will had slipped the other into his pocket. A small town in the middle of nowhere it might’ve been but barring nights like tonight and the bodies that were stacked up like cordwood in the morgue, Mystic Falls still had its appeal. Strangely it had become home, his partner something more than an irritant, although that had taken time. He winged a dark brow at Christian as he enquired about what was now home. Huffing out an amused breath, Will dragged the knuckles of the hand holding that delicate flute across his lips. ”I think my father would prefer I did.” Zoey would undoubtedly have preferred the opposite, this move taking him away from the precinct they had both worked in, preventing both of them the pain of having to see each other on a daily basis. ”I moved here. There was an opening at the sheriff’s station and … it felt like the time for a fresh start. How about you? A local?” It would’ve made sense. Folks in Mystic Falls were just as adamant as the Upper East side when it came to shining the spotlight on worthy causes.

Blue eyes settled on the man next to him, a muscle in Will’s jaw flexing as he saw Christian’s face light up. That had been him not so long ago, the cameras catching the way he’d looked at Zoey in a way, plastering that all over the front page too. It wasn’t a look that their police commissioner had ever been caught bearing, although he doubted his father had ever had feelings like that for any woman. Will’s lips pursed faintly as Christian’s words echoed his own past too. They could’ve practically put a mirror up between them, his past just a couple of years ago reflected back at him. ”My wife was always the same,” Will assured him. ”She tolerated them for me.” Past tense. Their entire marriage was in the past tense. Will forced the rusty sounding chuckle from himself. He could see the point in the concept, just never the full dog and pony show. ”That makes two of us.” There were other ways, he thought, swallowing hard as he let his gaze slide from Christian and the painful reminder of what had been.

So much had been painful, a dragging despite reluctance, a stubbornness that hadn’t worked to get him out of any of it. Dalton had his image of what his perfect little family looked like and he would force that upon them. Appearances were everything when you were constantly putting on a front. ”My father only ever had the one. I’m sure he appreciated it when it came to the corralling,” Will admitted, glancing back. He tugged his hand from his pocket, smoothed it over the front of his jacket. The corner of his mouth twitched at the fond note of nostalgia that seemed to fill Christian’s voice. At that age it had always been a thousand times easier when there was someone there to share the misery. A time or two he’d found people to do that, kindred spirits that his father had undoubtedly spent half the night frowning upon.

Will tilted his head slightly, blue eyes narrowing as he studied the man again. The mention of the two boys … the Children’s Fool’s Fete. Oh, it was a small world. His smile brightened, a faint groan to his laugh. ”Every year,” he admitted. ”That was one of my father’s favourites … except for the year I found myself a couple of small friends there. I doubt I’d have been able to place you if you didn’t have such a keen memory. You were with your younger brother … David? Daniel?” Something beginning with a D, he was sure of that. He lifted his free hand again, pressing it to his brow as he laughed. ”I think I conspired with your brother to try and stuff a whole stack of napkins in the saxophone when the player had gone for a break.” It had made the evening pass faster, his father’s disapproving glances not registering until they were in the town car heading home. Dalton’s eyes had been thunderous, the storm barely waiting until they were in the apartment to break.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1083

Local. In New York’s Upper East side it hadn’t mattered. If you had money you could slip in just about everywhere, of course, snide comments would slip from lips to lips the moment your back was turned but it rarely cost you anything. Dalton’s reign as police commissioner was proof that just about anything could be paid for. Mystic Falls was no less gossipy, or rich, but here being local was all that mattered. Being from one of the Founding Families got you everywhere. A badge could open some doors but not every one, not even his lock picks could do that here.

Will could feel the tickle of a broken thread against the backs of his knuckles, the evidence of what he’d done the last time he’d sworn this tuxedo almost brand hot against his skin. A reminder of just why he wasn’t still in New York. A set of picks sewn with infinite care into the seam of his pants where the heavy who patted down everybody at the door to the private poker game couldn’t feel them. His lips curled all the same as his hand fell away from them. ”I imagine you might be getting there after a century or two. Marrying into one of the Founding Families might speed it up a little.” Although he had no intention of doing that, the glint of the overhead lights on his wedding ring making that obvious. ”You’re about one percent to getting there in their eyes then.” He was nodding though, his eyes cutting to Christian as his lips pressed together. Will could’ve looked away, found some shame in it but he was nodding instead. ”Detective Carnegie.” A confirmation of his own hard work, Dalton’s position not doing a damn thing to get him that badge.

There’d been talk of it though, hadn’t there? The Commissioner’s son skating in on nepotism, instead of his own back. Bravery, skill and perhaps a good dose of luck what had really done it. Zoey had perhaps been one of the only ones who had truly believed it in the end … and he had shattered all that trust.

That had been a lifetime ago, his marriage over almost as long as it had lasted. Not quite as long ago as those days before he’d been able to slip Dalton’s choke chain. Then it would still be pulled from time to time, his grip not strong enough to tear it from his father’s hands. Never truly vicious, that hadn’t been Dalton’s style but that ice cold disappointment burned just as fiercely. It had been worth it that night though. Will groaned out his laugh, grin brightening with it all until his face ached with it for the first time in what felt like living memory. ”Your brother was quiet … persuasive. Not that I needed much of that in those days. I think I might have even promised that all the weight would come down on me if we were found out.” He’d never been sure if the boys’ parents had come down quite as hard on their children but Dalton had been living. Cheeks red in the dim light of the car later, lips going white as he pressed them together hard enough to crush them paper thin.

Still worth it.

He had a name for the snitch now too. Will sighed, clucked his tongue. He didn’t imagine the girl had done it with the intention of the riot act being read. Amusement tugged at his lips. ”Be sure to thank her for me now. I’m sure my father was quite grateful for her doing her civic duty. She didn’t get you into too much trouble did she?” Dalton had acted like he’d brought utter shame to the family, at a charity event no less. Like a children’s charity event shouldn’t have been the perfect time for children to be able to be children.

Blue eyes swept this event, seeing none here. Strictly adults, those with deep enough pockets for the hospital to mine. Or parents with them cavernous to buy an entirely new wing. Will made a low sound in his throat, he couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like to have a sibling, let alone one opposite enough from him in every way that they’d have likely ended up just like Dalton. A dark brow winged, his lips pursing despite the thought. ”I guess what they say about twins isn’t always true.” Shifting on his feet, Will was already nodding. A commonality between them he once might’ve tried to avoid, for fear of Dalton getting another grip on him but Christian, it seemed, was outside of his father’s sphere now. ”Serendipity, I suppose.” One door opening when another had just closed, smacking him on the ass in the process. Reaching out absently, he set his mostly drained glass on the tray of a passing server. ”I’d like that,” he admitted, knowing that more than likely he’d end up exploiting connection, that added corner of a privileged world he’d open up. And he’d certainly regret it.

Will looked up as he fished the card out of his inside pocket, spotting the brunette he’d seen Christian with earlier approaching them. The wife. That pang struck him again. He recognised the signs of a wife ready to go home, recalled those nights with Zoey when he’d slip an arm around her when she’d been swaying with exhaustion, his fingers delicate as he’d undressed her, pulling back the covers for the two of them to slip under afterwards. Quiet words about the evening exchanged as he’d gathered her close, his eyes already drifting shut if hers hadn’t been, the lines then carved by affection and amusement bracketing his mouth. They sprung up now as he offered her a smile, her husband the card between his fingers. Deeper now from the grief of a marriage destroyed. ”How about you call me at the station? We’ll set something up for next week … you can bring your wife, I’d like to meet her.” Will nodded to her now, already taking a step aside when he saw one of the photographers making a beeline for him. One of Dalton’s hired hands, undoubtedly, here to gather the proof that the wayward son had done his duty.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1050