Grey

Ultra freaks. In back fifteen balconies were filled with thousands more. In the glare of the yellow, violet, and blue stage lights, I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them and feel their heat. Three transparent screens hung beyond the stage. On them blinked blue words. Stand still. High above, rings of colored spots shot shafts down through the haze like a million-legged spider. Then lasers began scribbling words and lyrics all over the walls and floor—as they had in Father’s car. I saw dead orgasm, rip it red, and crush me among the vibrating scrawl.On the steps on both sides of the stage, stood the singing Beavers. The closest one on the right held a long note while he rubbed one of his paws over his crotch. Atop his head the linty fur was highlighted in a large yellow light.

“Aren’t they cute?” asked the announcer. “They’re The Pipsqueak Beaver-boys! They are everyone’s favorite band, and check out their derrieres!” Half the crowd cheered, the other booed. But when the Beavers turned around and bent over, the cheers overtook the catcalls.

“I thought crowning Xavid would be an ass-saver,” said Father, with a sigh.

“Xavid is Chesterfield’s brother,” I told him. “And neither of them are part of the families.”

Father gazed at me bewildered. “Where do you get this butt fluff?”

“Is this the part of the show when Michael Rivers becomes a man?” asked the announcer. “Is this when some super-lucky girl becomes his sex-slave wife? Or are we stretching out the show with one more RiverGroup business announcement?”

The Beavers began singing the wedding march a cappella.

“I was at the Kez compound.” I emphasized the last word because it was so wrong. “There is no Ribo-Kool. There’s nothing. Walter told me they’re not even Kez. They’re Noodle… or something. Xavid stole identities for them.”

“Shh!” I heard the director say from the side. “Quiet! Wait for your lines!”

“Who is going to come down the stairs?” asked the announcer. “Could it be a beautiful and raunchy girl— someone to make Michael happy a thousand dirty ways?”

“Oh, my, gosh!” said the announcer with a phony laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s not a luscious and slutty girl for our beloved Michael, it’s RiverGroup’s own COO and CFO, Xavid Xarry! Yes, that’s right, this is a super-secret surprise! One of special interest to all you partners, subsidiaries, and affiliates.”

Beavers—double tempo appeared on the prompters, and when they sped up to a cartoony frenzy, the crowd laughed.

Father stared at me as though I was insane, but I thought I saw a hint of fear.

 “When were you at the Kez compound?” he asked over the din.

“Today! It looks like the slubs.”

“Bullshit!” Shaking his head he added, “Xavid checked them out.”

“Xavid lied to you! He’s not part of the families!”

“After a fabulous run,” continued the announcer, “as the greatest CEO the world has ever known, our beloved and yet deeply hated Hiro Bruce Rivers is going to relinquish that coveted title.”

“Squid shit!” said Father, rolling his eyes at me. “Xavid’s lard!”

Maybe father would never understand or admit his mistakes, but at least I had told him what I knew.

“Serving with RiverGroup for more than two years,” said the announcer, “Xavid has shown amazing loyalty, fearless determination, and hot, relentless love—the one thing that every great CEO needs. But before we welcome Xavid into our greedy corporate hearts, let’s give a much-earned standing ovation to our squealing, bawling Ultra baby of agony, the hard, long, and fat Hiro… Bruce… Rivers!”

I could see people in the front rows stand and clap. Some pumped their fists. Others hollered. Father waved a pumpkin arm slowly. He spoke, but I couldn’t hear.

“What?” I asked stepping closer.

“There were a lot of ugly babies.” He smiled and pretended to point at someone he knew. “One had five nostrils. Another had chicken wings for legs. Some had brains but no skulls. Others had skulls but no brains.”

While I could picture the horrors he described, he seemed more nostalgic than sorry.  I told him, “You’re a monster!”

The prompters said: Hiro—Thank you! I love you all!

With a sardonic smile, he eyed me. “I am a monster, but then again, so are you.”

“Not by choice.”

He laughed. “Me neither.”

“Your lines!” shouted the director. “Hiro, say your lines!”

Now the prompter read: Hiro—I loved you the best I could. But my love just wasn’t good enough.

“You made me!” I told him. “I didn’t choose to be like this.”

“I didn’t choose either!” he barked. “Don’t you get that? They poisoned me.”

“It’s not the same at all.”

Shaking his head, he said, “It’s completely, absolutely, and totally identical!”

“But why did you have to hurt Nora?”

Now he scrunched up his face as if he had never heard anything so absurd. “I didn’t hurt her. Every three seconds it’s something else!”

I heard the director off-stage saying, “Hiro! Your lines! Say your damn lines!”

“You did hurt her,” I said. “You cut off her toe!”

Shaking his head, Father spoke, but the house voice drowned him out.

“Your love is good enough for me, Hiro! And we will all miss you, very much. But from this day on, the mighty RiverGroup will hereby be shepherded by the very talented code bastard, Xavid Xarry. And that means for all of you who what to vomit in Hiro Bruce Rivers’ mouth, he’s not the man to blame anymore and whatever bad things he presided over are now officially gone with him!”

I studied Father’s profile as he stared forward. The bright lights flattened his face and made him look younger, but now all I could see—or imagined I could see—was the flawed dna in each of his cells. And in that instant, I was angry, and disappointed, but I didn’t hate him like I thought I should. Maybe there was no such thing as the pure hate I wanted to feel, or maybe I came upon that opposite dot of emotion right in the middle. Or maybe I’d just felt that he had heard me—even if he couldn’t yet respond. He was, after all, my father and whatever he had done—easily a million terrible things—maybe I was about to make a worse mistake.

Then, loathing my sympathy, my pity, I turned to check how close Xavid was, to see if I could include him, but he was still fifteen feet away and walking one step at a time. Now, I told myself. I couldn’t wait any longer. Bending my knees, I stepped toward Father. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw another figure come from the opening at the top of the stairs on the left. It was Joelene.

She wore my grey jacket over her underwear as if she had just come from the dungeon. Her curly hair was matted and dirty. Her skin was mottled with bruises, and in the lights they were vivid shades of purple and hunter green. Bright blood ran down her chin.

She sprinted down the stairs three at a time like an athlete. And although I could see that she was going straight for Xavid, all I could do was watch.

“The hell?” said Father softly, as if he hadn’t had time to inhale and fill his words.

Completely unaware, Xavid slowly continued toward us as though wading through three feet of water. “Thank you all,” he said to the audience. “It’s an extra-extraordinary day of exhilaration for me!”

From the bottom step, Joelene leaped into the air and straight-legged Xavid’s neck. His head was knocked so far back, his face disappeared and his chin became the highest point of his body. The sharp, bony crack filled the PartyHaus as everything else went silent. For a second, even with his neck obviously snapped, he just stood there. The seal pelts all over his blue and orange color-blocked suit vibrated as if from aftershocks. Then he fell forward and crashed three feet away.

Joelene stood beyond him breathing hard. Her ribs were visible when she inhaled. Her left hand was bloody. Her pinky and ring fingers had been cut off.

Twenty