Relationships Beginnings
Tough Love in Kansas City: Exiled
William Marshal stood on the balcony of his apartment and looked at the lights of downtown Kansas City spread before him. This is a view of which he would never tire. When the brokerage that once occupied the 11th floor of the Marshal Building went bankrupt in the 2008 Financial meltdown, the space sat empty for almost a year. It was one evening on a night like this that William was checking on the property that he happened to walk onto the balcony and fell in love with the view. It was odd, he'd seen nearly the same view from his office two floors down, but for some reason that night it latched onto his imagination and never let go.
The next day, he listed his suburban house--it never really was a home--with an agent. William always knew he didn't really belong overlooking the 9th hole in a gated community. The experience of that night revealed his true home was in the heart of the city. When he got into the office the next morning he notified the building manager that the 11th floor was no longer for rent, and then called a good friend and architect to design his home. The financial crisis badly hurt the construction industry, so he was able to hire the best company in the area to get started the day after the building permit was issued for the renovation. The apartment was almost finished when William's wastrel brother, Monty, learned about the apartment conversion.
William still smiles when remembering Monty's tirade. He had just gotten to the office when Jordy, his assistant, poke his head in and said, "Your brother is on the phone and he is spitting nails in between cuss words. Line 4, and don't hold the phone too close to your ear."
"You'd better get me a cup of coffee and a doughnut from the canteen." He then pressed number four on the phone.
When Jordy returned with the coffee and doughnut, he had to laugh. The phone receiver was lying on the desk, William was doing the morning crossword, and Monty was ranting oblivious to the fact his brother did not give a shit what he thought.
When the stream of words and venom from the earpiece finally stopped flowing, William picked up the phone and asked. "Are you done?" After a moment he continued, "Monty, as you are well aware, our parents will named me the sole director of the Marshal Trust. I have complete and arbitrary authority to manage the trust as I see fit. I can buy, rent and sell its assets without consulting you or anyone else. While you are named as a beneficiary of the trust, I have the authority to determine the disbursements of its proceeds. I suspect this call was motivated by the Queen of Bitches that has your manhood locked away in her jewelry box. So, tell her this: unless she wants next month's trust disbursement to drop to a dollar, she should close her greedy maw. In fact, brother, why don't do us all a favor and shove your dick into it to stifle the yapping." William then hung up and noticed the door was open and Jordy was shaking with laughter.
Williams reminiscences were disrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. When he opened the door there stood the nephew, Jesse Montague Marshall, that he hadn't seen in 13 years. Jesse was the epitome of a frat boy. From his 6'2 athletic body, to his blonde hair and hazel eyes, to his A&E wardrobe, he wreaked frat. "Hi Uncle Billy barely escaped his lips before William closed the door in his face. In a few seconds William opened the door for a confused looking college dropout. "I'm looking for my Uncle Bill. He does live here--right?"
"Your Uncle William lives here," William said in a firm and irritated voice. William looked the kid in the eyes and said, "Only my friends call me Bill and no one has called me Billy since my freshman year in high school." "Jeeze Uncle William, it's just a name, no need to get bent." A smile crossed William's lips and he said, "You're right Shit-for-Brains." Come on in "Shit-for Brains and take a load off. I bet you're hot, Shit-for-Brains, and would like a Coke." Hey, Jesse piped up, "Why are you calling me Shit-for-Brains." "It's just a name," William responded, "no need to get bent."
Suddenly a light switched on in Jesse's frat boy head, "I see. Is it ok if I call you Uncle Will." William chuckled, "I can live with that. Have a seat. I have some lasagna in the oven and I'm sure you're hungry after a day of travel." "Yeah Uncle Bi...I mean Uncle Will, I'm starved, but I really need a shower before sitting down to eat. Do you mind?"
"Your room is the door to the right just before you reach the kitchen. There are linens and toiletries in the bathroom. We can go shopping tomorrow if there are any brands you prefer."
Jesse walked into the bedroom and dropped his suitcase. He looked around, It was a nice room. Large closet, king-sized bed, ensuite with a large shower, nice view of the city. He thought to himself as he shed his clothes, `this will be alright.' The shower felt so good after what had been a totally disorienting day.
It had started with his father pulling back the drapes in his bedroom at home and yanking back his blankets. Jesse remembered telling his father to fuck off, before burying his face in the pillow. The attempt to go back to sleep ended with a loud crack and his ass erupted with pain. He didn't even have time to react before a leather belt left another angry red stripe on his vanilla butt cheeks.
"What the fuck," Jesse screamed as he bolted upright. "Have you gone insane?"
A back hand added a red print to his face to match the two on his ass. When Jesse looked up, he saw anger in his father's eyes that was beyond rage. "How dare you bring shame on this family." yelled his father.
"What the hell are you talking about"
"Tommy Wilkins' mother just called to tell us what you did last night. You raped Tommy."
Jesse was suddenly wide awake and aware this was not a normal family blow up. "I did not rape Tommy. He wanted me to fuck him."
Another backhand stung Jesse's cheek. "He's fifteen and was drunk. That is rape in this state," screamed Jesse's father. "You're twenty-one, they'll send you to prison for this."
Suddenly the reality of what had happened and the danger it put him in began to penetrate the alcohol haze. The frightening prospect of being the cell block bitch was sobering. Jesse was a well built athlete, but he knew he was not hard enough to survive in prison. Tears began to fill his eyes and he was shivering with fear.
After a few minutes of uncontrolled panic, Jesse's father said. "Tommy told his mother that he is a fag and he begged you to fuck him. Fuck! I can't believe I have a faggot living under my roof. You make me sick."
Jesse and his father had never been close, but this tirade cut Jesse to the quick. He tried to speak. I..I...dad, I....
"Don't say anything, you disgust me."
After a long silence, Jesse's father said, "Tommy's mother said they will not press charges, if you are gone by Tuesday. They don't want to publicly expose their son with a trial, but they never want to see you in the neighborhood."
"I have to leave! Where will I go."
"Most likely to hell, but for the time being to your Uncle William,"
Jesse's recollection of the events of last Sunday, was interrupted by an irritated man yelling to hurry up because he didn't like cold lasagna. Jesse turned off the water and quickly dried and dressed before heading to the dining room. The table was set and food was on the table when he arrived. He noticed that one of the places had a glass of wine and the other a glass of water. Jesse really wanted some alcohol, but figures this was not the time to press his luck.
The dining table was long but the settings were in the middle across from each other. Jesse sat down and looked at his Uncle. William bowed his head and sat silently for a couple of minutes. Jesse began to grow uncomfortable with the silence. At home the only times grace was said was at holidays.
Finally, William lifted his head and looked at Jesse. "I am not a particularly religious man, but I find the act of being thankful for my food and the life I have centers me. It is good to remember that not everyone is fortunate, and reminds me that we who have means are required to care for those who do not. Do you agree?"
"I've never really thought about it."
"Of course you haven't," William muttered, "Why would I expect Monty raise his kids to be anything but self-centered."
Jesse started to protest at being called self-centered. But he looked at his uncle and realized that Uncle William knew far more about the 21-year-old sitting across the table than Jesse did of him. Objecting to being labeled as self-centered would just prove the truth of the accusation.
After a minute, Willam asked Jesse to hand over his plate. William put a serving of lasagna and salad on the plate. He then started to put lengths of asparagus on the plate and Jesse said, "I don't really like vegetables." William ignored to comment and added a couple of breadsticks before handing the plate back to Jesse.
Jesse and William ate in silence. When Jesse asked for more lasagna William simply answered, "When you have eaten your asparagus." Jesse started to speak, but when William suddenly locked his eyes with Jesse's, the complaint was swallowed and the asparagus eaten.
Finally William asked, "Would you like dessert."
"Yes, please, that would be very nice."
The surprisingly mannered response registers with a slight smile from Uncle William. William returned to the table with two warm brownies topped with melting vanilla ice cream. He also brought a pot and two cups. "Do you drink coffee?"
"Yes, I would love a cup. Thank you."
After serving the coffee, Uncle William and Jesse again ate in silence. Finally, William said, "It is time for me to tell you the rules and conditions of your living arrangement."
"Rules and conditions!? Is this some kind of prison sentence."
"No shit-for-brains, that is what you get if I send your sorry ass home to mommy and daddy. Are we clear."
Jesse suddenly realized that Uncle William knew what had happened and was dangling him over the flame like the spider in Jonathan Edwards' `Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God' sermon."
All of the pent up emotions, fears, and shame of the last three days crashed down on Jesse and he began to sob uncontrollably. He was on the emotional brink and William saw Jesse' emotional fragility, even if it were housed in the body of a twenty-one-year-old exemplar of the male form. William's heart was torn and he could not inflict another lash to the boy's soul. He got up. walked around the table, and placed his hands on the shaking shoulders of his nephew.
"OK Jesse, we don't have to discuss this tonight. You are exhausted and too emotional for this conversation. Why don't you go to bed and we can talk in the morning."
Jesse slowly willed himself out of his chair and took two steps toward his bedroom before suddenly turning and throwing his arms around his uncle's neck. A flood of tears soon soaked William's shoulder as the last of Jesse's emotional defenses collapsed. William gently rubbed Jesse' back to console the young man. While there was no noticeable change to his exterior, in his heart William pledged to all that was sacred he would be the father figure that the boy needed him to be.
Jesse eventually regained his emotional control and released the grip on his uncle. He suddenly felt small and awkward. William sensed the young man's discomfort, took him by the shoulder and led him to his room.
Goodnight Jesse. We will have time tomorrow to talk and reach an understanding; but now, you need to sleep. With that William opened the bedroom door and gently pushed Jesse inside and closed the door.
William leaned back against the wall and muttered to himself, "What have I gotten into? I need a drink." He walked into the library and poured himself a double scotch. He had just collapsed into a leather wingback chair when he heard the front door open and close.
Moments later Jordy walked into the library pulling his carry-on suitcase. He noticed the double scotch in William's hand and said, "Things went that well."
"Oh yeah, I might actually need a second."
"I don't think so stud. Pour me a single and meet me in the bedroom. I need a shower and then we can talk about it."
"I don't want to talk."
"That sounds even better."
Next Chapter -- Tough Love in Kansas City: Family Trust