#67 Vanity - Vanity

"I'm still pissed you wouldn't let me bring him home," Frankie pouted as he ripped off the paper end of his straw and blew it at Lyle and I. "May you need a pet in that cabin of yours, and you know what they say a frog is the perfect companion for a small house. Much better than this one." He gestured to the wavy haired girl sitting next to me.

Lyle laughed and batted away the straw wrapper. "Oh? And who says that?"

"People." Frankie gave us a insinuating sideways glance.

We sat in a corner booth of a retro diner straight out of the set of Grease. Red and white leather booths lined the wall creating a tiled aisle between the swivel stools at the lunch counter. From the kitchen I could hear the line cooks yell orders at one another as waitresses bustled In and out with crowded plates, all of which dripped with French fries.

I'd lost track of time hours ago after we left Mo Soileireacht, when the sun went down. We were only an hour and a half out from White Pine but the thought of listening to Frankie complain about his need for fries for even another second convinced Lyle to pull over.

Grabbing a handful of sugar packets Frankie proceeded to attempt to juggle them. The flimsy paper caught at odd angles in the air forcing him to make grand motions in an effort to keep the paper from falling to our table. Totally out of control Lyle jumped in grabbing one of the packets before it hit the table top.

"The table is hot lava!" Frankie screamed a little louder than he should've as a few customers close by looked over with concern. None of us cared as we used our hands like paddles to keep the sugar packets in the air.

Since we'd left the Country Club I felt lighter and more balanced. The sensation of walking in the dark lifted the moment I stepped foot onto the lush grass. The swelling in my gut I'd felt so unsure of I decided was closure.

"Ah!" Frankie hollered as he lunged across the table to swat a packet back on the top but instead managed to back hand it further away.

I couldn't help but laugh as he sank back into his seat dramatically with his hands covering his face as if he'd just bungled the winning goal. "I'll get it." I offered leaning out of my seat to scrounge around on the floor.

I found it a foot from the base of the table and gave a thumbs up to signal the game was not lost. As I straightened up careful to avoid knocking my head on the table a movement caught my eye.

Set up at the end of the row of booths hung a flat screen. No one in the diner seemed to be paying much attention as an interviewer leaned across her desk. She seemed interested in her guest and my eyes stayed glued to the screen until the camera panned to the suited man sitting across from her.

I lost my appetite.

Across from the perky looking cable news anchor sat Richard Monroe. As quickly as I felt lifted out of the darkness I sank bank into it, his smirking face a constant reminder that I would never have full closure.

My table mates noticed my sudden lack of words and followed my gaze. Lyle swore under her breath as she rose. "We don't need this shit today, there's got to be some channel without his face smeared across it."

In agitation she ran her hands through her hair as she waited for me to move out of the way. I stayed glued to my spot. How could I willingly decide to break into his office and then the Country Club but not be able to stomach his appearance on a nightly news show? I eyed the man I so despised. I couldn't keep running from him.

I took Lyle's arm and pulled her gently down to sit next to me. She shot me a look of worry but didn't argue.

"What is he saying?" I diverted my attention to Frankie who was closest to the TV. Speaking over his shoulder he twisted his body to scan the subtitles.

"Company take over next week, his massive net worth," He summarized then switched to reading the subtitles verbatim. "X-Enterprises is a multi-billion dollar company, and I am the sole reason for it achieving any success." Frankie altered his voice to be three octaves deeper as he shook his head and twisted his lips in mockery.

For the next minute and a half we listened as Frankie read Monroe's boastful script until the segment went to commercial.

"Is any of that true?"

Frankie replied hesitantly. "No."

"But?" I urged.

"Once he takes over X-Enterprises he'll be nearly untouchable." He shrugged. "He's already got a massive legal and accounting army. My guess is any inconsistencies we find now will be obsolete after he gains control and has his cronies bury it all."

Lyle let out a string of curse words as we let the sentiment hang in the air.

"Have you found anything?" Lyle pressed.

"I've hit most of the files, but they are all pretty tight. Definitely cleaned up professionally."

"What about the disparities you found earlier?"

"Just the tip, small enough where they'd be discredited and thrown out. Origin issues and all that - not enough to put him away - his lawyers would have him out on bail before the judge banged his gavel."

"Fuck." Lyle ran both hands through her hair as she stared down at the table.

"Sorry May," Frankie's lips drew into a thin line as he tried to fake a hopeful smile. "I should have told you sooner but I figured it last night and then you wanted to go to the Lily Pad Place and-"

"It's ok. I appreciate you doing this." I tried to smile too. "But you do think there is more incriminating evidence?"

"Yes," He began cautiously. "Deeper than I can go with the files I have."

"But if you could go deeper in his files you think there's a good chance you'd find something." My hands splayed across the table out of tension and worry.

"Everyone slips up eventually, but even if I could we'd need a credible way to leak it to the five-oh." A bit of contempt coated his voice as he leaned back with his hands folded over his chest. "If – big if - the authorities got access, they'd find fraudulent statements. Only problem is motivating them, didn't you say he owned a cop or two?"

"Maybe the whole force." Lyle shot back.

Frankie frowned. "Who this fuck is this guy?"

I cast a glance over his shoulder at Monroe leaning confidently back in his cable news chair. "A monster."

"A rich, egomaniac monster." Lyle almost laughed.

The three of us nodded in unison. We were in too deep making it difficult for us to see the full magnitude of Monroe's power. Had I made a mistake? Pushing Lyle and Frankie, giving myself false hope?

Lyle's words rolled around in my head as the waitress came with our food. Monroe was a combination of unfettered amoral drive and resources. We were playing his game - did that mean we needed to think like him? At first I shook the thought out of my head, refusing to go crawling around in the muddied waters of his mind. But after a few minutes with no better idea I held my breath and dove in.

My mind's eye pictured his office, the grandeur of it as compared to the rest of the lifeless beige cubicles. He kept minimal personal affects, save for the photograph of he and his father in law - aka the man whose power he was usurping. Obviously he put business accolades and power over family as no photograph of his wife graced the oak desk. I traveled up to the oversized portrait hanging directly behind his chair.

Image. He was vain and self-confident beyond belief as I recalled the groupings of televisions that ran his interviews on loop. Was that all a part of his power, creating a brand and projecting himself as the larger than life man he imagined himself to be? That was part of what made him untouchable. Like the Wizard of Oz but instead of hiding behind a curtain Monroe hid behind a big desk and a TV screen.

Bickering from my table brought me back for a brief moment as I watched as Lyle smother her plate full of fries with mustard.

Frankie looked on with disgust. "You're ruining perfectly good potatoes."

"How so?" Lyle said absently while drizzling the mustard meticulously over her plate.

"With all that fucking mustard you know what you're doing!"

"It's good."

"Dear god deliver me from this." Frankie rolled his eyes. "Give it here." Springing into action he reached for the bottle only to have Lyle react by aiming it at him and flicking a bit of mustard onto the middle of the table.

Frankie yelped bringing even more attention to our space. "I can't be known as someone who associates with mustard loving people. You're making me look bad."

As Frankie made another lung for the mustard bottle I tilted my head. Something inside me clicked. Drumming my fingers on the table I lowered my fork.

"I have an idea."

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