Good morning and happy valentine’s day. I hope you are spending it with someone special, or at least treating yourself nicely. No one says a day about love can’t be a day where you show yourself some love. Because let’s face it, you are fabulous. So while you plot your self care moment or your fantastic declaration of romantic devotion, Let’s get the day started off right with a morning writing prompt. Are you ready? Good. Let’s go.
Well that was unexpected. I honestly have no idea where this came from but it does leave me with a lot to think about. After all, what exactly was done and who is on the other end listening? Not exactly romantic, but still something I will ponder.
Tuesday, February 14th: I think we all know how this works.
“I think we all know how this works,” he said. Devon stood and took his checkbook out of his inside coat pocket. He leaned forward and took a pen from the holder placed upon the desk. So he asked, pen now poised above the paper of the check. How much will it cost to make this go away?”
Simon fought the scowl that wanted to take over his face. Harold glanced hopefully at him, no doubt hoping this matter could be easily resolved. Even though Simon strove for neutral, he was certain something showed on his face. Harold’s hopefulness died.
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid this isn’t a matter that can be resolved with money,” Harold said.
Simon had to give him credit. Harold’s voice hardly shook at all, even though the thought of how much money he was going to be turning down had to give him some physical pains.
“Excuse me?” Devon said. His voice was icy. Simon knew Devon from way back and knew that when he was his son’s age his father bought him out of all sorts of infractions and into anything that he wanted. That he felt he could now do the same was evident in the shock on his face.
“Just name the price,” Devon said.
Harold’s lip trembled but he held firm. “I’m sorry sir, but we cannot take money to overlook this incident.” Harrold glanced to the vase across the room, his eyes quickly shifting to the window and the view beyond, trying not to dwell on the recording equipment stashed inside the vase and even now transmitting this conversation to the ears of others. The thought of them listening in, stiffened Harold’s spine. He remembered that this, more than any conversation would not be a back room deal.
“Your son has violated not only the ethics of the school, but the law,” Harold said. He turned back to Devon. “We, that is, the school, cannot afford to overlook this.”
Simon lifted an eyebrow at Harold.
“Not that we would ever want to ignore something like this,” Harold said. He let his inner fundraiser go, realizing the money Devon was offering would never be in the Academy’s coffers and that his only recourse was to firmly hold the moral and ethical ground in front of those listening in.
Simon could almost see his fundraising side tuck itself away in a small dark corner as he began to wax almost poetically about the code of conduct for the Academy. He eloquently ignored the fact that he had allowed Devon and Devon’s father to pay the school to ignore such infractions on the past. In fact many he already allowed donations to sweep under the rug were more severe than the one Devon’s eldest was being held accountable now. It was for this reason that Simon was here to bear witness. Harold caved before on more vile matters, the board wanted to make certain he didn’t cave now when others were listening.
Ten til Midnight 