While Mr. Morris careened through town and out the other side, Lissa was studying, much to Cindy's dismay. The had created several Venn diagrams and some flow charts to illustrate the connections they all saw between the characters.
Cindy tried on several occasions to derail the Hamlet talk, but her attempts generally fell flat. "Who do you think was better in bed, the Prince of Denmark or the King of the Geats?"
"It's pronounced Yeah-ats not Geets," Ralph said.
"Let's get naked," Cindy said, not so much serious as testing who was really listening. No one blinked or responded at all. "I'm going to get a drink. Anyone else want something? Okay then."
The other three were deep in thought planning and roughing out their papers. Cindy hadn't come over to do work; she'd come over to be a match maker. She was trying to get Jake and Lissa hooked up. "This is impossible," she said to herself as she made her way into the kitchen.
She leaned into the fridge and rooted around looking for something a little less healthy than milk or juice. She was having trouble believing that there wasn't anything interesting in the fridge at all. No beer in hidden in the crisper. No soda or sugary sweet drinks.
Lissa was farther gone than Cindy had feared. Any girl who lived in a house where the most exciting drink in it was a bottle of white cranberry peach juice wasn't likely to get let alone keep a guy. Guys needed some edge on a girl.
Cindy wasn't sure if what she felt next was real or not, but she went with it. There were hands wrapping around her waist. Normally she wold have jerked and been freaked out, but she was in need of a little excitement.
She straightened herself up to see if she could tell which boy followed her to the kitchen by pushing back into him. It had to be Ralph. She figured she'd wait to see what he was up to. No point leading him on if he was just being a little extra friendly.
"I don't know exactly what you've been trying to do," Ralph said into Cindy's ear, "but it's getting hard not to notice." Ralph bit her playfully on the earlobe.
Cindy purred, "Umm, I thought you were playing for the my team?"
"I don't like to limit my options," Ralph said kissing Cindy's neck.
"Lissa is trying to get Jake's attention. I'm trying to help. I've always been a fan of underdog stories," Cindy said wiggling free and spinning to face Ralph. She let herself be tucked into his hulking frame. "Want to double with them? You bring Jake for Lissa, and I'll bring all this and more for you," Cindy said leaning in and playfully kissing Ralph just before biting his lip.
"Ouch," Ralph said startled. "You're on. Let's take them to the movies Saturday night."
Cindy wiggled completely free and shook her hips as she walked back into the living room. She looked over her shoulder and said, "Oh it's on for sure. This weekend is going to be so legit!"
On the other side of town, Mr. Morris was trying to talk himself out of following through with his plan. It wasn't a plan so much as an idea with a direction. He was going to go to Leo's house and ring the doorbell. That was where the planning ended.
As he crossed the bridge out of town and went over the lake, he started to wonder whether it was worth pursuing. If the kid wanted to remain anonymous, perhaps he should let him.
No it would never work. Mark Morris always had to see a theory through. It didn't matter if he proved it or disproved it, but he never quit until he had accomplished one of those.
In this case, he was hoping to prove his theory that Leo was a strange boy who should be avoided. Mr. Morris was not a fan of any would be villain with a soft tender side hidden under the rough exterior. He liked his villains to be mean and evil through and through. No point in humanizing monsters. No point giving more credit to little actions than they truly deserved.
No a villain should be a villain. It wasn't that Mr. Morris didn't believe that people could change or wee changed. He knew that life could alter how one interacted with the world; nevertheless, he had no desire to allow that to ruin a theory that he had since childhood.
Some people are just evil.
A lot of people like to believe that everyone and I mean everyone is inherently good. That even serial killers and axe murderers have some redeeming quality hidden deep inside. Mr. Morris didn't believe that so much as he believed that at the core of all people lay the ability to be ruthlessly evil. Not an inner good so much as an inner bad.
It took discipline to be good. You had to work at it. It wasn't the default setting that somehow got twisted to bad because of life. You either learned to be a contributing member of society or you didn't. That was the whole purpose of social mores and norms.
Society dictated what was and wasn't acceptable. In other cultures, some of our traditions or beliefs would be viewed as extreme or ridiculous, just as our culture misunderstand and interprets the beliefs and traditions of other cultures.
That was the one truth in life. Location dictated normalcy. The cliche of "When in Rome..." was Mr. Morris's basic framework for the society he lived in.
Kids like Leo seemed to buck the norm for no reason other than it suited them. That, to Mr. Morris, was unacceptable. If you don't like the way something works, you don't try to change the world to fit your mold. You either change yourself or relocate. That's how communities and civilizations have been built and destroyed for millennium.
No point changing all of that now.
At the root, that was his biggest issue with Leo. Mind you it was not the only issue, just the biggest. Other items he took offense at were Leo's choice of clothes. He was not Van Helsing nor could they expect an attack of blood thirsty Indians. Leo's choice of coat was questionable.
Who in his right mind would by choice wear a jacket that put everyone on the defensive because it brought up images of school shootings? Not to mention the fact that Leo always wore the jacket. Even when it was freaking hot.
The hair that Leo kept long was not a problem for Mr. Morris. He could care less what any kid did with their hair. Dye it purple, put stripes in it, polka-dots, shave it off, grow it long, just keep it out of your eyes. Hiding behind hair to Mr. Morris was worse than shielding your face from the world with a hat. Hats come off. You can't ask a kid to comb his or her hair back so you can see his or her eyes. You just don't.
To Mr. Morris, the eyes truly did say more than the mouth ever would. For that reason alone, Mr. Morris hated having Leo in class.
The other minor but still important reason that Mr. Morris wanted Leo to be a bad person was because he was a male. This wasn't an alpha male kind of thing. It was just a fact that to date, Lissa had not shown much interest in anyone, guy or girl. Nevertheless, Mr. Morris was fairly sure that his daughter was straight. This led him to distrust every guy.
In that respect, Mr. Morris was just following a standard set by generations of fathers who had come before him.
Mr. Morris tried to remember the last time he had been in Lago de Vita. Lago de Vita was the first ever gated type of community to come to their town. It had a little security hut that sometimes housed a local police officer, but generally was left empty.
The few streets on the hills surrounding the lake were heavily wooded. It was a development planned to look unplanned. No two houses were allowed by the home owners association to be built to look the same. It gave the air of being eccentric and superfluous. It was that kind of neighborhood. The kind where people owned Harley's because they were a statement. They also parked their hybrids right next to their hummers.
It was a neighborhood that every generation longed to find a way into when they were young and still kind of longed for after they were grown. Find someone who doesn't want to live in a mansion on the lake, and I'll find you someone who lies.
Mr. Morris followed the twists and turns past the old neighborhood, the original four roads. He climbed the hill at the back of the development and stopped. He reached into the passenger seat and double checked his address.
He was in the right place. He couldn't believe that Leo Savages home of record was this place. He had never been to the house, but everyone knew about it.
As you drove down route 38, you couldn't miss it in the distance. Built to be seen from space, the house stood like a challenge to the hills and lake. It looked out over the lake and wore the mountains behind it like a cape.
The property was somewhat creepy, but Mr. Morris pressed on. He knew he'd never get up the courage to get this close again. He had to pull the band aide off.
He pulled up to the gate, laughing at the irony of a gated house in a gated community. He put his window down and pressed the intercom button. He thought about pretending he thought he was at a fast food restaurant and placing an order when someone finally answered.
Back when he used to bring his dates to Loga de Vita he would have. He remembered when he and an old girlfriend named Jen had sat across from one of the houses just to see someone use the elevator. Just looking at the houses constituted a date, but inventing games to go with the site seeing was typically worth bonus points with dates.
"Bonjour," came a voice from the speaker.
"Ahh bonjour, with whom am I speaking?" Mr. Morris asked starting to doubt his directions.
"My name is Samantha Lumiere. Pourquoi?" Sam asked.
"I'm sorry. Je suis désolé. I was looking for the Savage residence," Mr. Morris said turning his attention to the black wrought iron gates. Each side was ornately adorned with a letter S over three feet tall.
"Pardon, Moi! I have been rude. Please come in."
The gates opened without a single creek or groan, which Mr. Morris found to be more unnerving than if they had made every creepy horror movie noise he could pull from the recesses of his mind.
He followed the drive up to the house, which was remarkably modern considering the grandeur of it. that wasn't to say that newer construction was never stately, but in Mr. Morris's experiences, most insanely rich families tended to enjoy the tradition and majesty of classical construction.
This house was like something out of Frank Loyd Wright's plan book. Large unsupported slabs of concrete seemed to defy gravity at every level, of which there was easily eight in the two story building.
The house was stately without being Gothic vogue. It cried eccentric, a far cry from the norm. This bothered Mr. Morris because it meant that the proverbial apple had not fallen far from the tree. Tradition dictates for a reason. Excess was fine as long as it was within the realm of social acceptability.
Mr. Morris pulled his car up by the front steps. The parking area sprawled in random directions that ended in rock that could be garage doors or just part of the mountain. It was difficult to say.
The stairs to the front door were deep, shallow layers of flat river rock. It looked like water pouring from the door would have been the most natural part of the whole house. Mr. Morris could hear water, but he couldn't see where the cascades were. This bothered him. It confirmed his suspicions that Leo was devious.
"Come in, Bonjour, Bonjour," said a woman who couldn't have been much older than twenty five, gracefully curtsying. While she didn't have on the traditional french maid outfit, she was clearly a servant. The formality of her dress easily separated her from other young men or women of her age. She led Mr. Morris down a dark hallway, up a few stairs, around a corner to where a large delicately hand carved table and chairs sat with plates and silverware set.
"Thank you. You've been most hospitable and don't even know who I am yet. Allow me to introduce myself, I--"
"Need to be going," another girl came tumbling out of the adjoining room. "Sam, what the crap?" Mr. Morris was taken aback by the lack of accent and charm the second girl possessed.
"Jessica, I was bored. Damn, we never have any fun. Why can't I pretend to be French an all like French?" Samantha asked, losing her French accent.
"Because you are neither French nor allowed. You know the master will kill us if he finds out we let in a stranger. The gates are there for a reason, ya know. Do you want to get us all thrown out? I'm not going back to scanning groceries at Fair Value."
"Jeeze," Sam said, "You're so over reacting. He won't even know. But you totally ruined my fun. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go. Old Cogsworth thinks that because she's the nanny," Sam made air quotes around the word Nanny, "that she gets to call all of the shots."
"I meant no trouble," Mr. Morris said instinctually backing toward the low flight of stairs he had come in on.
A swinging door was pushed open by the backside of a middle aged woman in an apron, "Get it while it's hot."
Sam took a deep bow, "Monsieur Morris," she said resuming her French accent, "may it please you to make the acquaintance of Mademoiselle Potts, the chef and," a child of nine or ten ran out under his mother's full arms, "her punctual for all meals son, Chip."
Mr. Morris bowed. He laughed a little mostly to himself. "You realize that you all have names like the characters...never mind."
"Well, there should be plenty, but if the master comes in, we're all out on the street," Mrs. Potts said.
A crashing could be heard from above. Something had been smashed through a window from the sound of it. The whole room winced.
"Maybe I should just go," Mr. Morris said.
"Great idea," Jessica said pushing him toward the exit.
"You know what? He needs to get over it. Do you remember what this place used to be like? When my dad was entertainment coordinator? I mean what entertainment do I ever get to coordinate?" Sam said in a huff.
"Now, now. Let's just eat," Mrs. Potts said ushering everyone into seats. She disappeared behind the swinging door and returned with a serving tray on each hand.
"This is quite a spread," Mr. Morris said. "Do the Savages ever attend dinner?"
"Ha! That's rich. Look we work here out of family loyalty, and we run the house the way we have been taught to run the house. We have dinner promptly every night at five. If Leo or anyone else should choose to join us, then they may. Dinner has been served in this household every night for generations. We are not about to change it just because the master of the house chooses to not attend," Mrs. Potts said cutting Chips chicken into bite sized portions.
"You all keep mentioning Leo, but what about Mr. and Mrs. Savage?" Mr. Morris asked.
"Enough," Jessica said. "I'm glad that the rest of you have forgotten your place. I have not. Mr. Morris, please fix a plate to take with you if you like, but you must leave. You are not supposed to be here. Sam should have never let you in."
Jessica's cold hard stares made the rest of the servants lower their heads. Mr. Morris didn't want any of them to get in trouble on his behalf. That he was sure of. He had seen quite enough.
His suspicions were quite confirmed with the crashing and lack of respect for long standing family traditions. Mr. Morris didn't need to see anything else. He knew that while Leo may or may not have saved his life, he owed the nothing.
Leo had asked for nothing in return for his actions and Mr. Morris was fine with leaving things that way. He didn't want to think about the words Leo had spoken to him when he was laid out on the table.
He would focus on what he wanted to focus on, see what he wanted to see. Life tended to be easier if you chose to avoid the facts that didn't help your case. It had worked for years and years with politicians.
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