Highbinders

Seth entered the Concordia Building and stepped into the elevator for the ride to eighth floor. Why, he asked himself, was it that he to break the news to his father?  He felt tired of always being the one to ‘break the news’ he still felt pain from the day he heard that Monique was killed and now he had to break more bad news to the old man. He got off the elevator and walked directly to the front desk where the new receptionist sat. She was alone, and while it was inappropriate given his brother’s circumstance, he needed something to take away his edge, to take his mind off matters if only for a moment.  He decided to make his move.

“Hey, Sarah.”

The receptionist wasn't much more then a teenager, and hadn't yet leaned how to deal with men. She became agitated at his sudden presence.

“It is Sarah isn’t it?” he continued.

“Oh, good morning Mr. Delaney. I didn’t see....”

“Call me Seth, all my special friends do.”

“Last names are more professional, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, but we don’t have to pretend we’re made of marble.”

“Did you want me to let your father know that you’re here?”

Seth straightened at the mention of his father; “Yeah, could you please buzz him.”  He was still required to have his father’s approval before entering his office. His father the bad man, never saw anyone unannounced. Then relaxing, he continued,   “Say, next time you have nothing to do, maybe you could let me know and we could go to the French Quarter.”

The girl pulled away from her desk while looking up at Seth, not certain how to read his advance. Everyone said that he was cold, though he was nice enough to her. She wasn’t sure. She liked the way he carried himself, maybe that was because of his money; if she worked on him would he turn out the way she wanted? A pearl in need of a good polish?

“I just buzzed your father - he’ll be expecting you.”

“Thank you,” he winked, but walked away disappointed.

“Tomorrow is good.”

Seth stopped in his tracks and waited a moment to let the girl know he had heard her, then continued towards his father’s office. It had been too long, he thought to himself, but now it’s time for business; the girl could wait.

Before entering his father’s office, Seth glanced at the bold words embossed on a brass plaque mounted on the door:

S. Joseph Delaney, Sr.

President

Highbinders Industries, Ltd.

“YOUR CONFLICT IS OUR BUSINESS”

He considered the meaning of the statement, then grasped the door handle and pushed open the heavy oak door. An enormous desk dominated the room.  On the wall behind the desk were three paintings by the nineteenth century artist Krieghoff, and on the opposing wall hung a heavy shillelagh. The rest of the office was low-key, just like the man who occupied it. It was who their father was. He didn’t want material goods for himself, but he made sure that those he cared about, the only people he cared about, his family never went without. Delaney had two good suits for important business meetings and church, but the rest were off the rack, usually on sale. His office was composed of second-hand furniture, sturdy but not wonderful. Years back when Seth and Sean had taken him shopping for clothes they had tried to get him to buy something new. When they were finished, both brothers had new suits purchased for them by their father, who had walked out of the store with only a tie. A tie sold at half-price.

It was the same for his stepbrothers and stepmother; anything they wanted, Delaney would make sure they would get it. If Seth suggested it was time for his father to replace his desk, the old man would have put up a fuss, but if he said he wanted a new car for himself, there would have been no discussion. They would be off to the dealer that afternoon. Self-denial, so that others would have every material thing they desired, had become second nature for Delaney. Seth had given up trying to change him. His father was sitting half-slouched in his chair; one of the six televisions in the room was tuned to the local news. S. Joseph Delaney Sr., President, the ‘Beast of Bay Street,’ swung around in his leather swivel chair to face him, staring at his son with the same blue-black eyes that had been Seth’s birthright.