The Loophole



“You let her dictate the terms?” Vaughan Grey held a bourbon in one hand and Grey’s prenuptial agreement in his other.  He was seated in a dark leather armchair wearing only a silk robe open to his navel.  A cigar smoldered in an ashtray at his elbow.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”  Grey didn’t quite manage to keep the petulant note out of his reply and felt a slight blush when the man looked at him under raised eyebrows.  This man made him feel like a moronic child.
“She have something good on you?”  He held his gaze steady and Grey felt his balls recede just a bit.  He despised himself for being intimidated by this man.
He nodded.  He didn’t want to whine.
Vaughan looked back to the papers and sipped his drink while his eyes scanned the document.  Grey half-wished he hadn’t come.  He took a fortifying sip of the bourbon he’d been offered and tried his best to keep his face from twisting in response.  It was brutal bourbon.  His father over there drank the stuff like it was water.
Vaughan put his tumbler down next to the ashtray and sat forward in his seat, unconcerned that his robe fell open even further.  Grey looked determinedly away.  He didn’t want to see what the man had behind the robe.  He heard the rapid shuffling of papers.
“Well she’s got you pretty good my boy—“  Vaughan said with a half-laugh.  Grey’s shoulders tensed at the familiarity.  “Practically air tight.” He reached for the cigar.  “Who drew up the papers?”
Grey swallowed.  “My lawyer.”  He felt like an idiot.
“You let your own lawyer put your nuts in this vise?”  Vaughan paused, the cigar not yet to his lips.  He looked perplexed and almost disgusted.  “What’s she have on you?”
“Look, is there any way out of it?”  Grey didn’t want to talk about how badly he’d fucked himself over.  He’d been in a panic and he was ashamed of how hastily he’d acted, how completely he’d danced to that little bitch’s tune.  He certainly didn’t want Vaughan Grey to know what an absolute cunt he’d been.
“There’s always a way out.”  Said Vaughan philosophically, and leaned back, puffing the cigar and retrieving his bourbon.  The pre-nup lay over his exposed thigh.
Grey waited.  He was better at holding his tongue than people would expect.  He waited for Vaughan to continue.
“Like I said, she’s got you pretty good.” He spoke in a business like tone that belied the hedonistic relaxation of his body.  “Seven years of marriage, you’re paying for her college education, you’re paying for the kid until he’s eighteen—no matter what—“ he added with a chuckle “then you’re also paying for him to go to college and you’re establishing a trust fund on top of it all.”  He took a long, thoughtful puff.  “And if you violate the terms she gets fifty percent of everything you’ve got, plus all the child support bullshit.”
Grey understood that much.  It also had some provisions about extra marital activities that he was none too pleased about.
“This girl a lawyer?”  Grey hated the grin the man was giving him.
“No.” he answered tersely.
“Then this was all your lawyer’s doing?”
Grey shrugged.  Maybe he’d fire that thorough mother-fucker.  But the man had only done what he’d asked of him.  He could kick himself.
“Did she have a lawyer look it over?”
“A cousin.  I think he was a lawyer.” 
Vaughan nodded slowly and exhaled liquid-looking smoke.  Grey was going to fucking reek when he left here.  He abhorred cigars.
“Who else knows about this?” Grey didn’t know why but the man’s tone made him shift in his seat; he had that uncomfortable feeling again that made his balls recede further.
“The lawyer, The girl, her cousin, me and now you.”  Grey didn’t let the apprehension he was feeling translate into his voice.  He was all business.
“Your… father?”  The man’s lips twisted into something like a smile and grey fought the instinct to wince.
“No.”  He kept his answer simple.  Jonah had been unwilling to help.  Jonah was the reason Grey was seated in Vaughan Grey’s cigar-smoke drenched study.
“Do you call him your father?”  The man asked, veering off course suddenly.
Grey took a moment.  “Yes.”
“And what am I?”  The tone was curious, interested, nothing more.
“Excuse me?”  Grey wasn’t in the mood to play games, but the man held his fate in his yellowed old hands.
“How do you think of me, then?  What’s my title?”
‘Asshole who fucked my mom’ was what Grey wanted to say.  But, then, that’s often how he thought of Jonah too.  Did Vaughan Grey want to hear Grey call him ‘father’?
“My father.”  He answered dispassionately.
The old fuck smiled.  He took a sip of bourbon.  He puffed on his cigar. 
“Does he know your mom used to take you to see me when you were a kid?”
What the fuck was this man’s deal?  “No.”  Grey was impatient but he kept his temper even.  Of course he didn’t fucking know.  It was part of the custody agreement that Grey be kept away from the man.  Grey still remembered how it made him feel when his mother had begged him, tears in her big green eyes, not to ever tell Dad about his visits with Mr. Grey.  Or about her long hours alone with Mr. Grey during some of those visits.
“So he’s, what, your ‘Dad’ and I’m…?”  He trailed off, waiting for Grey to answer.
What you’ve always been, you mother fucker.  “Mr. Grey, is there any way out of the contract?”  He stared at the man baldly.  He wanted to give the impression that he wasn’t rattled.
Vaughan laughed, a hearty, full throated laugh, and put the cigar down.
“Alright.” He abandoned his inquest and returned his attention to the document.  “As far as I can tell there’s one big, glaring loophole.”
Grey leaned forward in his own seat, but made an effort to look calmer than he felt.  “What is it?”
“Well this whole thing hinges on the child.”
A moment ticked by.  Vaughan didn’t continue and Grey furrowed his brow.  Of course it hinged on the fucking child, that was the whole reason he was in this fucking mess.  Having learned at a young age not to speak unless he was sure he knew what was going on (a lesson he would have done well to remember when dealing with Maggie), he held his tongue and waited for Vaughan to elaborate.
“It seems to me that if there is no child the contract is forfeit.”  He finally finished, a note of irritation in his voice.
Grey was non-plussed.  “Right, but there is a child and she obviously isn’t interested in an abortion or I wouldn’t be wearing this ring.”  The ring that felt like prison bars.
“There isn’t a child.” Vaughan countered coolly.
“Uhh-“  Grey began to contradict but stopped.
Vaughan lifted his eyebrows and nodded once. “There isn’t a child yet.”
Grey’s mouth felt sticky.  He looked at the dark amber bourbon but decided not to have another sip.  Even the scent of it was offensive.
“What am I supposed to do, hope she has a miscarriage so that I can be rid of her?”
Vaughan Grey looked disappointed and Grey felt a prickling on the back of his neck and arms.
“Maybe you could wait around hoping—if you were a fucking sap.” 
Grey clenched his jaw.  “I already told you, she won’t get an abort—“
“Use your fucking brain.”  Vaughan interrupted coldly.
Grey snapped his mouth shut, frustrated and embarrassed.  He loathed this man.  He hated being made to feel like a stupid child and Vaughan Grey always managed to do just that.
Recklessly he downed the rest of the wretched bourbon and slammed the glass down on the coffee table.  Vaughan Grey was unimpressed by the gesture.
Grey stood to pace and wished he hadn’t stood so quickly immediately after downing the bourbon.  He shouldn’t have come here.  But what other choice did he have?
“She could lose the baby.”  Grey said quietly, trying to find his way to whatever cryptic logic his Father was using. 
“These things happen.”  Vaughan responded encouragingly.
“But there’s no guarantee—“  Grey put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and tried to focus. “No way of controlling that.”
“There is always a way.”  Vaughan spoke sternly now, halting Grey’s determined pacing.  Grey looked at the man for a long, tense moment until he was pretty sure he understood.  The thick cloud of cigar smoke was overwhelming and Grey wanted some air.  He was having trouble drawing breath.  He felt queasy.
“What am I supposed to do? Push her down the stairs?”  Grey sneered at the man.
“There are other ways.” He answered evenly.  “Less obvious methods.”
Grey couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Don’t look so appalled, young man.” Said his father with an answering sneer.  “If you had wanted the wholesome advice you’d be in Delaney’s study and not mine.”
He was right.  Grey had come here to get out of a marriage contract.  He’d known that to do so would mean something underhanded, something not-exactly-legal, something immoral even.  And that’s exactly why he was here with Vaughan and not with Jonah.
Grey walked slowly over to the armchair where he’d been sitting and braced himself on the tall back of it.  “And if she—“ he swallowed “If she loses the baby—“ what the fuck was he saying? “Then I’m free?  It’s over?”
Now Vaughan Grey relaxed a little and smiled.  “If there’s no baby there’s no obligation.”  He answered, a victorious tinge to his words.
“How?”
Vaughan narrowed his dark eyes.  “There are things you could put in her food.”  He answered smoothly.
“Untraceable?”  Grey almost couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Mostly.  But no one will be looking for it.”  He folded the marriage contract neatly in his lap.  “Young women miscarry all the time for all kinds of reasons.”  He looked Grey in the eye.  “It happens.”
Grey nodded.  He supposed it did happen every day.  It could be so easy.  It would be over and he’d be free.
“I don’t know if I could do that.”  He said, allowing all the disappointment he felt bleed into his voice.  He wanted to be able to do it. 
Vaughan Grey shook his head.  “Sackless like the boy-scout who raised you.”
Grey stiffened. His nostrils flared.
“This is the only way out, Son.”  Vaughan said plainly.  “Either take fate by the balls or let it fuck you up the ass.  The choice is yours.”  He tossed the documents onto the coffee table and stood effortlessly, not bothering to close up his mostly open robe.  “I’ll be here when you’ve made up your mind to be a man.”  And he strode out of the room, taking his cigar and his bourbon and his overwhelming presence with him.





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