Chapter Fifty-One – What Plaintiffs?
"Where is he?" Jamie pushed a few people with cameras and other recording equipment out of his way as he marched through the hallway of the hotel where Angus was staying.
"Are you talking about Angus? He's not here," someone finally replied.
Jamie saw black before his eyes as he noticed the guy's ugly smirk. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Ah, I believe he went back to the office. He thinks we can handle ourselves like big kids. Why don't you give him a call?"
That grin irritated him beyond what he could handle. He grabbed the asshole by the front of his shirt and shook him. "What the fuck are you smirking about? Huh?"
The direct assault shook the grin off the asshole's face, because now he looked like he was about to piss his pants. "Nothing. For real, nothing, Jamie. I was… someone just told me a joke… before you walked in," he finished lamely.
"Was that joke about me, maybe?" Jamie continued. His muscles trembled from the effort of holding himself in check. But landing a punch on a guy who wasn't Angus didn't seem fair, even to him in the state he was in.
"No, no, I swear!"
"When is Angus coming back?"
The guy shook his head. "I have no idea. He's very unpredictable. That's what makes him a good producer. I mean, that's what they say."
"Who's they?" Jamie asked, feeling the muscle tic in his jaw growing painful.
"People. It's just something people say."
Jamie let the guy go and pushed him away. He walked out of the hotel, his mood turning from hot rage to sour disgust. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Punch a wall? No, he had someone he could take it out on, and he'd see that they listened to what he had to say.
***
Unlike Angus, his parents were relatively easy to find. They had a rented room nearby, and they didn't seem surprised to see him. His father opened the door and let him in, without saying a word, but he did step outside for a moment and check their surroundings as if he suspected they'd be under surveillance.
"What were you people thinking?" Jamie began. His mom sat on the bed, her legs crossed and her fingers linked. "Why did you agree to appear on this show?"
"Let's just say that every bit of money helps," his dad replied for both of them. "We don't exactly have a place to go."
"Should I feel sorry for you?" Jamie asked with a snort, although a bit of guilt was creeping in.
"No, you shouldn't," his mom replied, giving him a direct look. "Look, Jamie, we didn't say any of the stupid stuff they put on that website."
"It's an app," Jamie said tersely. "Not a website. You were in jail, which means that you haven't been living under a rock."
His mom licked her lips and averted her eyes. "You've grown so much," she said, her voice barely showing a trace of emotion.
"Yeah, and I have no intention of being used for your stupid crap the way you used me when I was little."
"We're not using you," his dad intervened. "And your mom did miss you, regardless of what you may think."
"Oh, really?" Jamie threw his arms in the air. "And why isn't she saying anything? Are you her lawyer now?"
His dad shook his head. "We both missed you. Nolan and Lucy came to see us. You never came once."
Jamie closed his eyes for a moment, then stared at the ceiling. "Are you kidding me now? I was ten, for fuck's sake. And it wasn't like I could get a bus ticket to get me to the prison on visiting days!"
"That's true, and we're glad you didn't do it even after you grew up," his mom said in a placating tone. "Owen, please, don't try to make the boy feel guilty. They shouldn't have seen us at our worst, any of them."
His dad shrugged his shoulders and turned his back to him and his mom.
"Jamie, we came because we wanted to see you," his mom began explaining. "We doubted that you'd want to see us at all, after all these years, and this was our chance." She made no move to get up and walk over to him, but Jamie could tell that she was fighting her own body. Or she was being her usual self, an amazing actress that could charm Ebenezer Scrooge out of his money if she put her mind to it.
"Really?" He snorted and crossed his arms. "Dad just gave the two of you away. You only came because of the money."
She nodded. "Yes, we could use the money," she said in a quiet voice. "Starting out again will be hard."
"Again? Are you going to do the same thing you did for who knows how long? You know that will land you in trouble. Again," he emphasized the last word.
"No, we're done with that."
"How much did they give you? Wait, don't tell me. Is it enough? For you two to find a place, all of that?" He felt disgusted with himself for feeling pity for them, but he couldn't help it. The idea of his parents ending up on the streets, homeless, made him feel sick to his stomach.
"It's a start."
Jamie shook his head and took out his phone. "Do you have a bank account? I'll transfer you some money."
"No, we can't accept it," his mom said firmly.
Jamie looked at his father. "What about you, dad? Can you accept it?"
"Owen, no. We're not in any position to ask Jamie for help," his mom warned.
His dad sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Jamie, son, keep your money. It's not like you're a millionaire if you got tangled up in a mess like this reality show."
"I'm not a millionaire, but I can help you," he said, feeling anger creeping in once more. "You only have to accept it."
"We won't," his mom insisted.
"But if the boy wants to help us--"
"No." His mom gave his dad such a chilly look that no other words were needed. "And all that crap your producer posted about our meeting, we will make sure to give our own version of the events."
"He won't let you. And because you're some people who just got out of jail, he has the ammunition he needs to make you sound like lawbreakers with nothing but profit and thirst of fame on their minds."
Now that they had refused his help, he didn't know what to do. He had come here to yell at them, but he no longer felt like doing that. It was weird, and he couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand himself.
"You're a musician, we heard," his mom said.
"Yeah, I play the drums. It's what I want to do," he murmured. "That's why I got on this show, to put myself out there. The more people learn of my name and my skills, the more, you know, will listen to my music, too."
"It's a good plan," his mom encouraged him. "Have you eaten, Jamie?" She got up energetically and grabbed her purse. "Let's go grab a bite. Our treat."
"You guys need to watch your money," Jamie insisted.
"Yeah, but we can afford a meal. Also, I'm sick and tired of prison food. I just want to taste a proper hamburger. And coffee. What do you say?"
Jamie felt tempted to say 'no' and get out of there. But his mom looked at him with what seemed like genuine affection, and he found himself disarmed. "Yeah, okay. But let it be my treat. Please."
"Come on, Owen," she ordered her husband. "Let's hear what our son has been up to for the last fifteen years. I bet he has quite the stories to tell. Unlike us." She let out a short guttural laugh that triggered an instant memory in Jamie's mind. She'd used to laugh like that; it was her signature thing.
And he did miss hearing her laugh. And a meal wouldn't be the end of the world. After all, now that he'd met them again, he wanted to help them, whether they wanted it or not.
***
Hearst bit his nails for the umpteenth time as he looked up and down the street.
"Hey, assistant," someone called from one side, "aren't you supposed to--" The girl, dressed in a goth getup, stopped dead in her tracks. She gave him a startled look. "Sorry, I thought you were one of the assistants with the show. You look a lot like that guy."
"Yeah, he's my brother," Hearst replied. "I'm not with the show, though."
She nodded and waved mechanically at him.
"Hey," he called after her, "do you happen to be one of those people who signed shady contracts with LiveFeed?"
She gave him a long, suspicious look. "What do you know about that? Are you here to spy on us and report back to your brother?" she sputtered.
"No, that's not why I'm here." Hearst felt his face lighting up as he noticed a car approaching. It was a nice model, not too expensive, but presentable. He only hoped his lawyer wouldn't climb out of it still wearing his flip-flops.
The car stopped a couple of feet away. Hearst hurried to open the door. It was a good idea to be subservient to guys who were giving you their time for free, especially when they were lawyers.
The man in question got out with a grin on his face. He wore a suit and had shades on, and accepted Hearst's courtesy like he was royalty.
"So, what do you say, kid? Do I look like a lawyer to you now?"
Hearst nodded with enthusiasm. "You definitely do, sir."
"Good. Park the car," the man threw his keys at him. "And before you ask, yes, from this point on, I'll be your asshole for hire."
"I'm not paying you, though," Hearst mumbled.
The lawyer shrugged. "You will, once I'm finished. I promise not to take you to the cleaners. Ah, one more thing. I have a camera gal who'll be here soon. Since it's a reality show, we need to have it all recorded, right?"
***
Jamie couldn't wrap his head around how at ease he felt in his parents' company after all these years. They seemed to warm up to each other, as well, which was a sight Jamie couldn't get enough of. Had he been wrong to not seek them sooner? He could have found out where they were, and since he had become an adult—
"This Angus fellow seems quite the character," his dad said. "He acts like a tyrant. Is he the same with everyone? Or does he have it bad for you or something?"
Jamie sighed. "He fooled me into signing a bad contract. I can't get out of it, not without paying a penalty I can't afford. He's really got me by the balls. Sorry, mom."
His mom waved it off like it was nothing. "Did he do that to you alone?"
"No. There are several other people who got the same bad deal."
His mom exchanged a look with her husband. "Then you might have a strong case. A class action lawsuit, even. You will have to convince the other guys and girls to become a part of it, though. Do you need our help? What am I saying? Of course, you do."
"Yeah, they're pretty bummed, too. But a lawsuit? That's like… that will cost money. And basically, they carefully chose who to bully. We're a bunch of people who got into this because we're not exactly rich, let me put it that way." Jamie fiddled with his soda can. "I'll see what dirt I can find on them, and we might organize for that sort of thing. I mean, it's what we should do, right?"
His dad nodded with conviction. "Hey, there might be someone who could help you."
Jamie was about to ask for details when his phone started ringing. He felt his mood plummeting just seeing the name on the screen. "Angus," he said curtly. "What the hell, man?"
He got up from his seat to walk outside. He didn't want his parents to hear him cursing like a sailor,
"Come on, Jamie, you know that all that counts is ratings," Angus said in a cheerful voice. "And you can't back down anyway. But that's not why I called you. Refresh my memory, please. You're the adventurous type when it comes to doing the horizontal cha-cha, right? So you won't mind if we use some spicy details of your love life, correct?"
"Spicy? What the hell are you talking about? Hey, my parents are going to see this stuff," he said, unnerved by the thought alone. He had never thought he'd feel embarrassed about his stint as an adult entertainer, yet now that his parents were bound to watch everything the show would put on display about him, he felt like he didn't want them to learn about it at all. Which was stupid, since they were both ex-cons, but he couldn't help feeling that way.
"So tell them not to watch it. Big deal," Angus barked a laugh at the other end. "Ah, Jamie, these details are so juicy. I mean, a furry?"
Jamie could tell his blood was curdling to a stop in his veins. "A furry? What the fuck, Angus? That was some guy--"
"Yeah, a guy that came forward with some pretty interesting details," Angus said slowly, accentuating each word as if he was tasting caviar or some other bullshit. "I mean, I'm not surprised at all, but the gymnastics of it. They will definitely make you sound so damn interesting to our audience."
"Let me get this straight," Jamie said abruptly. "Did you get that guy to confess some stupid shit for the sake of your show? How much did you pay him?"
"Ah, Jamie, come on, don't be mad. Everything he said actually put you in a very good light. You're definitely the sort of guy many would like to have in their beds. There's also an innocence about him that makes everything seem all the more delicious. You were his first, right?"
"And it is all very personal. Don't do it, Angus. I'm warning you."
"But why? He agreed. The way I see it, he's putting himself in a bad light, not you. Although, it might be easy to deduce that you seduced and abandoned a poor bunny."
"Seduced and abandoned? Are we living in the same century?" Jamie could feel his earlier meal getting squeezed by the walls of his stomach in the most unpleasant way. Why would Cottontail do that? Because of his brother? Or because of money?
"He didn't take any money from us," Angus replied to his earlier question. "He seemed so eager to help us. Are you mad at him? You shouldn't be. He's helping you, Jamie. When we're done with you, you'll have quite the reputation among our viewers."
"And what reputation is that? A guy who fucks rabbits and leaves them by the roadside for animal control to pick them up? Have you gone completely nuts?"
Why was Hearst doing this? Wasn't he aware that he was exposing himself, as well? Had he no pride?
"Jamie, you don't know the first thing about what makes great entertainment."
Oh, no, Angus did not just go there.
"Oh, and you do? So you're using this furry's confessions why, exactly? Ah, let me guess. Your last stunt with my parents who, poor them, got abandoned by their ten-year-old son, didn't work. Your ratings are shit. Your show is in the gutter. It looks like people don't get off on other people's airing of dirty laundry as much as you thought they would. Please, feel free to stop me when you think you've heard enough truths."
"Enough, Jamie," Angus said in a cutting voice. "We'll talk about this later. It looks like I have to come back so you'll have the privilege of facing me, eye to eye."
"I so look forward to it. But why are you coming back?"
"That's none of your business."
***
Hearst was dutifully serving as the lawyer's assistant, jotting down everything, as more and more people gathered round to complain about their being mistreated by LiveFeed. The lawyer's camera gal was a woman in her late twenties with her blond hair pushed up in a pineapple bun, who looked like she could blend in with the contestants at any moment. She took her job seriously as she chewed gum vigorously while recording everything on her phone. If he looked enough, he could see the resemblance between them.
"So, you all got tricked into signing this," the lawyer said affably. "Yes, we definitely have a case."
"Hey, hey, who are you?"
They all turned toward the source of the voice. Hearst really hoped he wouldn't be noticed right away, as Angus Boyd, the producer of the show, was marching towards their group.
"I'm the guy who's going to put a stop to the little enslavement camp you're running here," the lawyer said, without changing his tone for a moment.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The lawyer grinned at Angus. "I should save my energy for your day in court, but I'm dying to tell you this." With a flourish, he took one of the girls' phones and showed the screen to Angus. "This isn't an agreement, Mr. Boyd. It's a rigged game, meant to keep these young men and women silent and exploited. If that's legal, then I must've missed the memo that indentured servitude is back in style."
Hearst had to cover his mouth not to laugh out loud.
"Who the hell are you?" Angus asked again.
The lawyer looked over Angus's shoulder and grinned. All heads turned to look where he was looking. Hearst made himself small once he noticed Jamie walking over.
"How're you doing, little brother?" The lawyer ruffled Jamie's hair, completely oblivious to the absolute shock painted on Jamie's face. "By the way, Mr. Boyd, my name is Wicklow. Nolan Wicklow, counsel for the plaintiffs."
"What plaintiffs?" Angus squeaked.
All the pairs of eyes fixed on him were the only answer anyone needed at the moment.
TBC