“I don’t know. I just seem to bring out something dark inside him – a twisted, bitter rage. I don’t think he’ll stop until he’s destroyed me.”
“That all sounds very personal. What on earth can you have done to make him hate you so?”
Alex gazed at him miserably. His secrecy about his past was no basis for a friendship, but if he told Two, he might lose that friendship altogether. In the end, he decided to trust the other indie with his story and hope for the best.
Leaning in, speaking quietly and quickly, he told him everything – about his mother’s death, his own stupid behaviour, the theft, the trial, the trickery. He left nothing out, telling it as honestly as he could, including the many instances where he’d behaved badly. There was a kind of catharsis in it – like being in the confessional.
“Your houder went to all those lengths to have his revenge on you?” Two asked when he’d finished, looking shocked and bemused.
“Yes. I hope it’s because he truly loved my mother, and not because he hates the Lyttons so much.”
“Maybe it’s a combination of the two.” Two drew his hand away and sat back, and Alex could tell that something had changed between them. His friend was distant and chilly, not his usual warm self.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you,” he muttered. “I know I don’t come out of this story well, but please believe me when I say that I’m ashamed of myself and what I did.”
“As you should be,” was all Two said, in a curt tone. “Now, it’s late, and I need my beauty sleep.”
Alex returned reluctantly to his own bed. It was as he’d feared; he could feel Two’s disapproval in the new, frosty silence between them.
The next day was Sunday, so there was no F patrolling the dorm, harrying them to get ready. Alex’s first thought was whether he could recapture some of his camaraderie with Two, but he turned to find Two’s bed empty, the sheets crisply pulled up and the bed perfectly made, as if Two hadn’t even slept in it.
Alex gazed at it despondently, but he couldn’t blame his friend. Alex was a mess of a man, and Two was nothing if not fastidious – it would hardly be surprising if that trait extended to the company he kept.
He was about to get up when he saw a folded piece of paper on his bedside table. He reached for it, frowning.
Dear One(Alex had to smile at the minor pun), I’ve been unable to think about anything except your story all night.Please meet me at Solange’s spot when you wake up. I feel much more needs to be said. Two.
Alex felt heartened. Dressing quickly, he ran outside to the particular point on the clifftop that he’d named after Solange. It was a bitterly cold day, but Two was sitting there in a big navy-blue coat, his arms wrapped tightly around his body as he gazed out at the grey sea. As Alex sat down silently beside Two, he turned with a little smile, then reached out and took Alex’s warm hand in his own cold one.
“You came. I’m glad. I didn’t mean to be so cool with you last night, there was just so much to take in. All I could think about was whether I could be of any use to you. I know it’s not much, but I’ve been an indentured servant for longer than you’ve been alive. I have no possessions, no money, and no influence in the world, but the one thing – indeed, the only thing – I can offer to you is the wisdom of my years, and the ways I’ve found to survive my lot in life. Would that be of any use to you, Alex?”
Alex liked it when Two used his real name. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but your situation and mine are so different.”
“Are they?” Two smiled at him. His expression changed and his tone became brisk. “Look, Alex – the way I see it, your only purpose in life is to stay alive long enough to bring your houder to justice for killing dear Solange. You can’t do that by being surly and difficult, the way you’ve been around F. Surely you can see you must play a smarter game?”
Alex frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You must start to use that big brain of yours, my dear boy.” Two tapped Alex’s head. “Mr Tyler will make sure you don’t have the freedom you need to bring him down if he believes you are still a threat to him.”
“But how can I convince him of that?” Alex asked blankly.
Two squeezed his hand. “That’s what I’ve been pondering all night, and this is my conclusion: your houder sent you here to turn you into the perfect servant because he’s had no luck in taming you himself. And he needs you tame – not just because he wants you broken for his own sick reasons, but also because he has to be sure that you won’t speak out about his role in Solange’s death. So, is it possible you could give him just that – the perfect servant?”
“How would that help?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, boy. Think! It buys you time. You lull the man into a false sense of security by being everything he thinks he wants. He wants you to serve his sleazy friends – you do it enthusiastically, with no attitude and no talking back. He wants you to dote on him, to be his perfect servant, to go to his bed like the most willing and infatuated of lovers – so you do it. Take everything the man throws at you, Alex. Take it with devotion in your eyes and love in your heart. Embrace your servitude. Learn every lesson they can teach you here and show him how much you love being an indentured servant. And not just any indentured servant – his. Humble yourself, Alex. Humiliate yourself, if you must. Gobble up every ounce of humble pie he throws your way and come back begging for more. Because only then will he lose interest in you. Only then is there even a ghost of a chance that you’ll fulfil your one and only mission in life – to find justice for Solange. Isn’t she worth that, Alex? Can’t you bring yourself to do that for her?”
Alex stared at him, shocked, appalled, and yet curiously hopeful at the same time. This, at least, was a plan. A way forward. Could he do it, though? Was he strong enough?
“I don’t know,” he said at last.
“Then throw yourself off this cliff now,” Two said forcefully, gesturing at the waves crashing on the rocks below. “Because your life is pointless if you won’t make this commitment to theone thing you say matters to you. You must learn to be ruthless, Alex. You must learn to play-act, to be an expert dissembler, and to pretend to be the most devoted indentured servant that has ever existed. Fool him, Alex, and you’ll stand a chance of getting what you want. If you can’t, then there’s no point in pretending. End it now – or he’ll end it for you.” Two got to his feet. “Now, I’m late for my yoga practice. Stay here and think through what I’ve said. If you want my help, it’s yours. If not… well, then I rather think this is goodbye.” Two leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Alex’s cheek, and then he walked away.
Alex remained where he was, staring out over the sea, his mind racing. Was Two right, couching his future in such bleak, binary terms? A simple either/or choice – were there no other options? He had never thought about what the likely end of his battle of wits with Tyler would be, but Two, always elegantly logical and concise, had starkly outlined what he saw as the only two possible outcomes.
Alex turned the entire conversation over in his head, trying to find a flaw in Two’s logic, desperately seeking an easier, more palatable alternative. In the end, he had to concede that Two was right. There were no other outcomes. That meant the way ahead would be the greatest challenge he’d ever faced. Was he up to it? Could he commit to it? If not, Two was right about that, too – he might as well give up now.
What would Joe do? Even knowing the man as little as he did, Alex knew he’d do whatever it took, however personally abhorrent. Two was right; he had to humble himself, learn to be a good servant, hide his true intent, and bide his time. It might take months, more likely years, but if he played his part well enough, then one day an opportunity would present itself – a door left unlocked, a holopad unattended, a chance meeting withan investigator – and then he’d spring into action. Until then, he must learn patience, among many other things.
