Chapter 12-
Plastic Smile
Katia
hadn’t heard Hale walk up beside her and Whitley, she had been so focused on
trying not to look Whitley in the eye. Taking a deep breath she plunged in,
telling Hale what Kellan had told her. Whitley was watching her much closer
this time through, as if she was hearing it all for the first time, too.
Hale kept his countenance impassive,
listening. There was a paparazzo hanging around the Bistro that night and it
wouldn’t do anyone any good to let the media in on the latest family drama.
Katia had finally concluded her
tale. Hale was still collecting his thoughts, and a hurt Whitley wasn’t about
to help Katia out with this.
“He
needs help,” Katia reiterated lamely. “He needs to see someone and get on some
medications, or talk through it all… Something.”
Whitley
had finally looked up as Katia made her final plea. “So that’s what will fix it
you think?” There was acid in her voice that cut Katia to the core. “You don’t
think that a little time with a brother you abandoned wouldn’t help? Let
someone else clean up the mess, hmmm?”
The
Paparazzo must have heard the uncharacteristic tone of voice Whitley had been using;
else she had glimpsed the hard and pleading look on her face. Katia stared at
Whitley, daring her to go just a little bit further. Almost hoping that she
would push her luck, Katia was nearing a breaking point.
Hale
plastered a serene smile on his face, hoping that the girls would take his cue
and lighten the tone in public. It might be a serious matter, but it was not a
public one as well.
Katia
glanced at Hale, and remembered her childhood training. She pushed a plastic
smile on her face that was almost a leer and turned it on the older woman
attempting to eavesdrop. She took the hint and quickly hailed a cab, leaving
the three to come to their own conclusion; she had drawn her own.
“I
think at this rate, getting him medical help would merely be a Band-Aid on a
much bigger problem. We don’t even know how many others he’s told this to.
We’re going to have to do something bigger,” Hale said.
“Something
bigger,” Whitley said. “Something bigger is not what you want right now. Right
now you want to make this something smaller. If he’s calculating his moves,
don’t we need to be calculating our moves as well?”
Hale
and Katia looked at her for a moment silently.
“If we
can devise a move that places him in check, couldn’t we make this smaller
before it blows up?” Whitley had an exasperated edge in her tone.
“I
think you might be right,” Katia admitted. “He told me that he believes his
art, and the sale of his art, has helped to bolster our family’s wealth. I
think he thinks he’s entitled because he helped. We all helped before moving
out, but the family always gave the spares a good house and cash as
inheritance. Maybe he’s forgotten that? Maybe you need to cut his art somehow.”
“He
thinks his art made the family wealthy?” Whitley was a little confused, again.
“He can’t be that dim.”
“I
think that might be just it,” Hale said. “Maybe his thoughts are too simple.
Maybe that’s how we can keep it small. Think small.”
The
trio stood silent for a moment. They all forced happy smiles again as a cab
pulled up and parked a few hundred feet away with no one getting out. Katia and
Whitley began to talk of weather, and the most recent game the local sports
team, The Pied Pipers, had lost. Hale didn’t join in the fake chat made to
throw a possible paparazzo off the scent. Instead, he stood there, thinking.
“Whitley,”
Hale said suddenly, breaking the flow the girls had gotten into. “You’re a
genius. If he thinks this is a chess game, maybe we can make it just that.”
“Maybe
we can fix it, instead of putting a
band aid on it. Maybe, we can all benefit.”
“And
what will Mom say?” Katia asked.
“What will your Mother say?” Whitley echoed.
“What
will she say, indeed?” Though he looked a little depressed, Hale knew that he
was on the right track to getting his thumb on top of Kellan.
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