Chapter Four
Derric
Dealing with the Devil
“G’day Mr. Faris,” the Network 10 c-suite receptionist says with a sunny smile. I should remember her name—since I fucked her in the station bathroom once or twice, but at the moment it completely escapes me.
“G’day, you’re looking lovely this morning, darlin,” I say, flashing my own signature smile. Damn, still drawing a blank.
“Always the flatterer,” she says, tossing me a wink. “What have you done this time that you need to personally pay a call on Mr. Steven?”
She refers to my father like he’s some sort of plantation overlord, and I’m the upstart runaway field hand being called in for disciplinary action. Most of the time she’d be right, but she’s out of line to say so.
“Keep it up, sweetheart. They can always use new acts down at the comedy club.” I lean one arm on her polished desktop. “Actually, the old man’s asked to see me, not the other way ‘round. Be a dear and let him know I’m here, will you?”
“Certainly,” she replies, appearing to shrink away from my physical presence and back into her professional but subservient place.
I continue on my way to Dad’s office, down a hall that feels more like a mausoleum chamber with its depressingly dark wallpaper. Despite being in command of a multi-billion high tech media enterprise, the pruny bastard still liked to keep things old school.
I don’t wait to be announced. He’s expecting me. I twist the brass handle of the oak door that separates him from the rest of the real world and barge right in.
“About fucking time,” a voice growls out from the far corner of the room.
“Nice to see you too, Dad,” I say. I’ve long since learned not to rise to his bait. I plant myself into one of his oversized and ostentatious armchairs while I wait for him to declare what’s on his mind and the reason I’ve been summoned.
A derisive grunt suffices for a greeting. “I’d say make yourself comfortable, but I see you’ve already taken the liberty,” Steven Faris says, rising from his padded seat behind a massive gumwood desk that looks like it would have to have been assembled inside the room. His iron-gray hair is as thick and bristly as ever, harshly trimmed to resemble some kind of flat-topped battle helmet. Despite my indifference to both his personality and authority, he does cut an impressive figure at the age of sixty-three, his tall frame still trim and broad-shouldered. It’s been said more than I’ve cared to hear that I’m the spitting image of the man in his younger days.
And the knowledge I am likely staring into a mirror of the future burns like indigestion in my soul.
“I might as well be comfortable when I face the firing squad,” I say.
This actually gets a laugh out of him. Or rather, an amused snort that passes for laughter.
“Just when I was beginning to like you, you’re still a sarcastic little bastard.” He plucks his eyeglasses from the bridge of his nose and folds them into his breast pocket as he saunters over to join me, lowering himself into the couch opposite my chair. “I suppose you’ve got every reason to expect a thorough lashing. But you bring it on yourself, you know. Can’t keep your pants zipped or your wallet closed.”
“My pants are none of your fucking business, zipped or unzipped. And I don’t keep a wallet with me on the beach, Steve. It’s where I’ve been most of the summer in case you haven’t noticed. Acting in the public service.”
“Oh, but I have noticed,” Steven says, crossing one long, trousered leg over the other. “In fact, it’s why I called you here. I’m afraid you’ll have to hang up your lifeguard whistle for a while.”
“What? Why? I thought you agreed it was good for my public image.” The bastard would just be that much of an asshole to change his mind. Pull the strings a little tighter, make me dance to his tune at any old time, like every other sycophant he surrounds himself with.
“Yes, and it paid off. No tabloid headlines, no arrests for public drunkenness, no property damage claims for nearly two months—a record if I’m not mistaken. Frankly, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I scoff. “Always inspiring to know you have such confidence in me.”
“Alright, shut it. Before you go off on one of your ‘daddy never loved me’ tirades, shut the fuck up and listen. We’ve just gotten the go-ahead for Network 10’s U.S. affiliate station.” He leans forward to deliver the famous Faris death glare. “You understand what that means?”
I divert my gaze. The look has long lost its firepower for me. “Yeah, it means you’ll have your head even further up your arse and sitting even higher on your horse than usual. What’s it to me?”
“You’re the goddamn executive producer, that’s what,” he snarls out. “Time you earned your fucking paycheck.” The old man stabs a gnarly index finger straight down on the antique coffee table between us. “This is a huge move, into the biggest market in the world. It’s important, Derric. To the network, to the family. And I won’t have you be an embarrassment to the family any longer. You’ll be leaving for New York at the end of the month to handle the launch.”
For a change, I have no acid retort to fling back at my father. Network 10 has been trying to crack the American market for years. It really is a milestone; one I never thought the old man would accomplish. And I’m shocked as hell he’s actually giving me a shot at it. There must be some catch, if I know the bastard at all.
“Family? Since mum passed, we’ve hardly been a family. Why send me? Why not one of your other pet executives—ones you can trust not to screw it up like you obviously think I will.”
Steven sinks back into his seat. The lines of personal history on his face seem etched deeper than the last time I saw him. His years of being a corporate, not to mention paternal, tyrant might finally be catching up with him. Maybe there’s even a sliver of regret as I mention my mother.
“As disappointing as it may be for both of us, you are still my son. It’s imperative that Network 10 is represented by family,” he states matter-of-factly. “The Faris name must have a face in order to succeed in a youth-worshipping, celebrity-crazed environment. And my sorry mug isn’t going to cut it. You’re the face, Derric. You’re goddamn Helen of Troy. We could launch a thousand networks with it. So don’t you fuck it up. For your own sake. And her memory.”
It’s the first time he’s spoken of mum with any kind of reverence, and I’m taken aback. He’s serious. He genuinely wants me to succeed in this venture. It occurs to me it has the added benefit of putting thousands of miles and two oceans between us.
“Okay,” I say evenly, without emotion. I can be the prodigal son; for her honor, not his.
“Your word, Derric. No screwing around; no pissing dosh down the dunny with booze and broads and cars. And if I have to post bail for you, I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself. Make no mistake. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.”
“You have it,” I say, rising to my feet. If I stay in this room a minute longer, he’ll be the one getting taken out. On a stretcher. I’d give almost anything for him not to have been the fucker who brought me into this world, but like the saying goes, you can’t choose your parents. My upbringing hasn’t given me much incentive to settle down and start a family of my own. But if I ever do, I’ll show the insufferable prick what being a father should look like.
Steve glowers as I leave his presence with my promise to be a good boy hanging in the air, knowing it probably won’t matter what I do while in the States. He’ll find something to crucify me for, eventually. He always does.
So, if I happen to look up a certain curly-haired brunette who’d given me the fuck of my life while I’m there, who cares? I’m no altar boy. At thirty, I am already thoroughly jaded by the all the sins and pleasures the world has to offer. I’d be up for a rematch with her. Maybe she won’t even want to see me; she sure as hell didn’t try to contact me since she left. A fact that bothers me more than it should. I find myself thinking about her a lot. And maybe that’s why. Plenty of women hate me. Some of them claim they love me. One thing they never do is ignore me.
Fuck it. In a few weeks, I’ll have a whole new continent of pussy to check out. I can put the dirt, dust, and flies of Oz, in addition to my overbearing dickhead of a father far behind me.
And with a little luck, I’ll find a reason to never come back.