An Absolute Success

by Bethany Grace O'Brien

“A day in the life of ___” Nelson Syphus. A speech to remember and an unexpected familial confrontation that would eventually morph him into the brilliantly corrupt man he is today. Quite possibly the moment that triggered Syntec’s demise and the wedge which tore apart relationships that would never be pieced back together.

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“...We don’t cut corners, people; and we certainly don’t buckle at the problems that arise from such a goal. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions. Be the ‘bad guy’ in order to get stuff done. But it’s all worth it in the end.” The paper crinkled as I looked up, my attention leaving the words I’d so painstakingly written and rewritten more times than I’d like to count. “Does it need something more? Seems like it does...” I inhaled, my eyes scanning the document again like a sensor. The entirety of the speech was already saved into my Prefrontal Cortex, but I decided to read from the sheet anyway. I looked up again, feeling my jaw muscles tighten as I made a louder than normal effort to clear my throat. “Wes...”

“Huh?”

I disguised an eye roll, flapping the paper at his face.

“Right, sorry!” Wesley sat forward from his position on the sofa beside Deb. “Worth it in the end.” He quoted, moving his hands in an arc—something he’d done since college. He smiled at me, altogether missing my exhalation of air indicating frustration.

“It is very well written, Nelson.” Deborah’s studious tone projected across the seating area to the chair I occupied. “It’s a fine speech.” She offered a sisterly smile, most unlike the sparkling grins sent Wesley’s direction when she thought I wasn’t looking. I’d predicted the infatuation to be merely a phase—as Wes was quick to reassure me. But he was far past smitten. I wasn’t exactly eager for the dynamic change—not like it isn’t already awkward. But to have such brilliant minds as theirs clouded by the emotional attachment one calls love was a waste. Of course I wanted them to be happy, but they could have selected more opportune timing.

“It’s a shame you aren’t coming, Deb.” A thoughtful tone. Wes put his arm around her. “You’re part of the company now too.”

My gaze met Deb’s. There wasn’t exactly anything for me to say—so, I didn’t. The announcement had yet to be made and the press would likely jump to premature, correct conclusions if she were to attend. I was pleased she’d accepted my offer to join the company. She was helping us out of a tight spot. Wesley said she’d be over the moon. I’m not so sure it was an accurate description, but she was definitely willing. Truthfully, it would’ve been stupid not to ask her to fill the position—not to take advantage of the brilliant dad constantly bragged about.

“I have sufficient things to occupy me while you are at the convention.” A nod.

“Oh, I’m positive you do.” Wes looked at me, rising from his seat. “I can see it now. Ladies and gentlemen,” He began as if addressing an entire room, the hand gestures returning. “Deborah Syphu—excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “D.” A wink. “The world’s worst workaholic!” His laugh was contagious. “Forget what I said,” he glanced down at Deb. “I’m glad you aren’t coming.” A nose crinkled expression on his face as he teased.“It would not be unlikely for you, yes you, Deb, to somehow smuggle in your lab coat and swab DNA off every champagne glass in sight—I hope there’s champagne.”

I snorted, quickly pretending to clear my throat.

The sparkle in her eyes was undeniable and they moved to me, the corners of her mouth upturning. “And do you agree with his hypothetical analysis?”

I dipped my head, rolling my lips inward to avoid breaking again in reaction to her ‘oh so serious’ inquiry.

Wesley was a downright clown and we loved him for it. He could always add some much needed levity to a situation. How he ever contorted his facial features into those ridiculous expressions was a constant enigma.

“What was that?” Eyebrows lifted and I knew Deb had noticed the threat of my falter.

“Yeah, you got something to say, big brain?” Wes flashed his pearly whites, sending a wink Deb’s way.

Couples. I straightened. “You know, third-wheeling is my favorite thing...” A dry response, but it landed. At least I think that’s what Wesley always announced when a joke was received in its optimal capacity.

“Beep beep.” Wesley pinched his nose to create the nasally tone of a vehicle horn.

Like I said, an absolute clown.

A slap to the shoulder was Deb’s response and she adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose, addressing Wesley. “If you at least get all your giggles out now, my suffering will be of benefit to the audience tonight.” A more loving gaze she could not bestow upon him.

And that’s my cue. “Actually,” I glanced at my watch. Simplistic in nature, a glossy, black leather band with thick numbers on the face. Utilitarian. Exactly what I needed. The first and only ‘good luck’ gift I’d received from Dad. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll risk arriving late.” I engaged my leg muscles to stand and neatened the tucking in of my crisp dress shirt, skirting the end table near the sofa to find the kitchen counter my suit coat had happened upon.

This little place Deb had herself holed up in was humble at best, but it was obvious to me that the taste of independence far outweighed any inconveniences the abode might offer. Mansions seem fabulous, fine and perfect from the outside looking in and the family home up in the hills was no different. But it’s the things unspoken of that paint the true picture of reality. I didn’t blame her for wanting to live on her own. Even if her cluttered space could use some serious organizing.

“I suppose you’re right.” Wes let out a breath of air, craning his neck as he searched the room for whatever he had done with his suit coat.

“Why don’t you run down and start the vehicle, Wes.” Deb made the suggestion.

Curious. The obvious explanation was that she wanted a minute alone with me, it otherwise made zero sense as to why Wesley should go first and alone.

“Sure thing.” Having risen to collect his garment, Wesley slipped his arms into the polyester lining of the sleeves, patting the pockets for his keys. He jingled them in the air and used the back of his throat to import a British accent. “I’ll pull the car around, sir.” He sounded congested. The worst accent attempt I’d ever heard.

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous man, allowing a smile to take full control of my features for a moment. “Be down shortly.”

Much to my preference, American Wesley returned. “You’d better. Or I’ll drive off and deliver a speech much different than you’ve planned.” He grinned, pulling the door behind him.

An awkward silence followed. Pairs of eyes speared jade into each other and we just stared. Neither one wanting to show the weaker hand by being the one to submit to the vacancy of sound and fill the void—or maybe that was just me. Most of the public assumed we had some sort of sibling rivalry going. Considering we’d both seemed to inherit the Syphus intellect, it was something dad was not shy to make known. Not like he cares about anything other than our brains.

“Here.” Deborah broke the silence.

Finally.

“It’s nothing much.” She placed the item in my hand.

It wasn’t even wrapped. My need for orderliness was only matched by Deborah’s need for practicality. It was one of the things I liked about her. A handkerchief. The starched fabric fell slightly limp as I turned it over. I doubted she had embroidered my initials into it herself, not exactly skilled in more domestic arts such as that would require. But the thought was certainly genuine. “A gift isn’t necessary.” I muttered as my thumb ran

across the ‘NS’ stitched in fine, black, silken thread. At least I assumed it was silk based on the sheen it produced in the room’s yellowed overhead lighting.

“Perhaps not, but a gift nonetheless.” Her voice always had an earnest sort of pep and honesty. She adjusted her glasses with both hands. “Not that you’d need it.” She continued, “you seem to have developed the rare, not emotional gene from Dad.” A smile. “But in case you are overcome with gratitude—”

“Or Wesley’s insisting I clean every inch of that filthy podium after the half dozen humans speak before me.”

Chuckles again. “Good luck.”

Did I smile? I think that was a smile. I placed the gift in the pocket of my blazer and adjusted my sleeve cuffs as I stepped through the door I’d opened and out into the hall. “Thank you, Deb.”

A verbal symphony of chaos bounced around the room, fluorescent lights and overworked air condition units contributing to the minor sensory overload. The live Q&A was in full swing and was most definitely a bad idea. The chaotic atmosphere annoyed me.

“Wesley! Any comment on your new head clinical scientist?!” “Can you give us a name!?”

The floor in front was packed with journalists and reporters. Camera bulbs flashing and pens making scribbles on paper. Everyone wanted the scoop on this. Biggest science event of the year. I was already regretting how I allowed Wesley to persuade me into this Q&A.

The room felt sticky in the mid July heat. In fact, it created an unforeseen use for Deb’s gift. I casually dabbed my upper lip.

“Mr Syphus! I—”

“Are you seeing promising results from the new clinical trials, sir?!”

I held back a chuckle as I witnessed one of the journalists cut off another’s question yet again. Like Seagulls fighting over a sandy cracker on the shore. The eager towhead hadn’t gotten in a single question. A smaller dog than the rest. Oh the overtime and boot kissing he probably put in to be here. Getting told you’re not as worthy as someone else was something I could understand. Favoritism. Just ask Senior Mr. Syphus which of his children were more important to him. It would not be me.

The energy spilling from Wesley was entertaining to watch. The man was committed. And seeing as how I was the one asked to give the speech, it only seemed fair to allow my colleague a moment of his own. What he did not foresee, however, was the amount of research these men had done beforehand. They knew every latest public detail and they were waiting for us to spill some sort of secret. Sorry to disappoint, gentlemen.

So here I stood, watching the circus before me. Thankful, at least for the roped barricades separating us from the crowd. Wesley was having a good enough time for us both and I didn’t mind letting him collect on the brunt of the questions. Though having answered 4 in a row, it was my turn or else be perceived as unhappy to be here. We wouldn’t want that.

Making eye contact with the towhead, I decided to give him his chance. I liked his enthusiasm. The feeling of getting the entirety of your inquiry out without interruption is a taste relished by any journalist at a live event.

Clean shaven, shirtsleeves rolled up quarter length. Polished. Confident. His questions were yelled as loud as any other man. What amount of research had he done prior to the event? I nodded. All he needed to muster up that reporter voice.

Let’s see what he has to say.

“A passionate speech you gave, sir!” He glanced down to quote from his notepad. “When my partner was telling me about this idea, I dismissed it at first; it’s very easy to shoo away an opportunity to salvage your comfort. But this is a mistake, and it would have been one of my biggest if I didn’t hear him a second time...” A more animated voice I’d never heard as he quoted me. “What can you tell us about this new Project Pegasus that’s been leaked over the past week?!”

Unexpected. My eyes narrowed. The fun was over. Project Pegasus isn’t discussed. Never out in public. It’s too new—too important. Barely more than an idea. Suspicion took precedence in the forefront of my mind for a moment only before it was erased by realization. Wesley must have let it slip at his press

conference last week. I cleared my throat, “No comment.” Looking at Wesley, I repeated. “No comment.”

“Are you sure about that, sir?” A smile formed in the left corner of the towhead’s mouth. I hated the way he looked like he knew something I didn’t want him to.

We locked eyes and I didn’t reply. I didn’t even blink, not wanting to give any indication of–

“I’ll say that it’s absolutely brilliant!”

Wesley, you fool.

“Something quite beyond our time.” An added wink was most unhelpful and I didn’t have to look to see the grin I knew existed. My colleague was unable to withhold excitement about new projects.

Murmurs amongst the crowd mingled with the sound of quickly working ballpoint pens. They ate cryptic answers like this for breakfast. Vagueness leaves room for interpretation. While Wesley thought he was giving a safe response, he was actually providing every man in here an opportunity to arrive at his own conclusions. Straight facts were better—or nothing at all. They can’t be misconstrued.

I realized I’d been staring at this kid too long in silence. How much digging has he actually done? “You.” I pointed at him, breaking the stare. Being singled out by Nelson Syphus wasn’t something he’d be likely to brag about for the rest of his life. “What’s your name?” I saw his ID badge hung around his neck. But asking indicates that you want them on record. Something journalists understand very well.

A cleared throat. Then, “JJ North with the LA—”

“I care not what paper you’re with.” I interrupted, inhaling the stale, conference room air that wreaked of cheap cologne and men’s hair pomade. “A name is all I wanted. Thank you.” What could not be interpreted as a ‘nice to meet you’ smile graced the corners of my mouth and a pensive nod I delivered. I could see the heat rushing to his face like a newly minted sunburn. A challenging expression hidden beneath his brown eyes. Intimidation wasn’t exactly something I relished, I was just good at it. It came naturally. However good or bad that may be.

JJ North moved his attention to his notepad, and I intercepted the pattern of his scribbling. Yes, I can read handwriting upside down. ‘Pegasus very hush hush. Interesting response.’

Indeed.

The clatter of voices began their ascent, and the cameras flashed once again, threatening to blind us all. Shame you can’t sue for that.

“I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!”

The commotion instantly halted. A pin drop’s worth of silence. Excluding, of course, the raving lunatic who had decided to utilize his vocal chords as a projectile.

“The name is Rafe Beckham! And I’m talking to you—GENIUSES!!”

Complement? I think not.

Noting the man’s aggressive pose, I observed the crowd’s attention shift. Wesley paused an inhaled breath beside me.

I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this Q&A. The room’s air catapulted from tense to hostile.

“You think you can get away with it?! You planned this! Unfortunate accident—something like that doesn’t just happen by accident, no matter WHAT you tell the media!!!” The man began to move even closer. Held off at least by the rope and pole barriers

I scanned the back of the room. Surely there was some manner of security in close proximity to apprehend this man.

Wesley came back to life and stuttered a response, “I–I don’t know what you are referencing—”

“Full of lies—BOTH OF YOU!!!” The man put his back to us, addressing the audience of reporters now.

Attempting to remain calm, my ears picked up footsteps toward my right. Thick boots made for movement. Security, at last. Earning every inch of their probably paltry wages.

Rafe was still shouting accusations, his back turned as the uniformed gentleman approached, leaning toward me. “Sirs,” he whispered, keeping low.

“A replacement head clinical scientist?! How convenient.” An ugly laugh. Rafe was oblivious to the developments behind him.

“For your own safety, you need to come with me.” The officer’s tone was just barely audible over the shouting, but he wasted no time in directing us toward the right hand exit of the chaotic room from which he had come. Not in such a haste, however, to avoid another utterance of Mr. Beckham.

“I will not let them stand there and forget those that helped get them where they are! She deserves better and I will make Syntec pay! Put that in your papers, gentlemen!”

The volume faded as we were whisked away, making quick work to cover the carpeted floor of the conference hall.

“We already had a break room set up and waiting for you.” The officer voiced as he fumbled his ID badge out of his pocket. “It should be plenty safe.”

Access granted via swipe badge cards indicated the hallway’s exclusivity from the general public, all sound absorbed into the thickly painted walls. While I didn’t presume the threat to be too iminent, the seriousness of the situation shouldn’t be brushed off.

Wesley surprisingly maintained his composure. Though I witnessed him feel the pulse point of his radial artery. “The press will have a field day.” He finally spoke. His tone as defeated as his posture, void of the luster it contained minutes ago.

“No, they won’t.” A familiar voice greeted us as we entered the breakroom. Dad. Why am I not surprised?

Seated on the left, a single sofa situated beneath a wall decor showcasing a mathematical schematic of a Mobius Strip. Nice touch. Though, the frame was slightly crooked. Corporate furniture, cool toned lighting.

“The security of this establishment appalls me.” He spoke as if someone had gotten his drink order incorrect. He rose, pushing past Wesley and I to assert whatever instructions he deemed important to our escort who then nodded, voiced a quick ‘yes, Mr. Syphus’ and made his exit.

And then there were three.

“This will be written up as a small emergency at the facility. Yes, that is what we will have them say. Nothing more.” Mr. Syphus’ chin landed in a curt, ‘clean up the mess’ nod upon his return to the couch.

I held back a snicker. How much would my father have to pay off this time if his threats were not strong enough to protect his son’s company that didn’t need protecting? Though the thought of JJ getting sold a threat sent a pang of sympathy into my being. A very short lived pang, that is. But I couldn’t help appreciating the kid’s guts in doing his due diligence. Syntec could take care of itself. In fact, if my father were to wager a bet on his strength assessment of my company, he would lose.

“Regardless of the ludicracy in that individual’s allegations, we can’t afford to let this get out of hand.” Senior Mr. Syphus adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt.

A distinguished man, my father. His silvering hair was still every inch thick as it’d been 20 years ago. Perfectly combed. Not a strand out of place. The notion ‘We can’t afford’ was as if he had some stock in the company when he knew good and well he hadn’t even invested a single dime. ‘Make it on your own, son’ as it were. Though upon discovering Wesley’s involvement, he grew more interested. Who’s got their fingers in the pie now?

“You handled yourself very well during the session, Wesley.” Dad administered a fatherly pat on the back to not his son.

“Thanks. Intelligent people out there. They’d done some digging to be sure.” Wesley smiled, falling into a chair docked next to an overly large side table. The room’s setup was completely inefficient.

“Not as intelligent as you, son.” Dad gave a satisfactory nod.

And as expected—not meant for me. It seemed ‘son’ was more a term of endearment to this man. I continued beating down the over-looming threat of jealousy, allowing my jaw muscles to tighten as I inhaled a controlled breath.

Which Wes noticed. Observing something for once. “The audience loved your speech, Nelson. Nicely done.” A nod.

I allowed myself a miniscule smile which quickly faded when dad said nothing.

Not unexpected.

“Your answer in response to the inquiry about your Pegasus Project was well put together, Wes.” He swallowed. “You should be very proud of yourself. The Pegasus Project is quite outstanding, I hear?”

The way he was buttering up Wesley to gain intel on the project I had yet to disclose to him was painful to witness. Only tidbits had he received here and there. I swallowed a cold chuckle and just stared at him. I’d made up my mind that if he didn’t want to invest, he didn’t need to know anything I didn’t wish to share. And Project Pegasus was one of them.

I eased next to Wesley, elbowing his shoulder from my standing position. He looked up at me and a sturdy eye was all that was necessary.

He swallowed.

I inhaled through my nose properly.

If bottled awkward silence was sold as a high commodity, this would be prime stock. I could hear the walls breathing.

“Why are you here?” I took control of the conversation.

The thin smile that eased onto Syphus’ face did anything but make it more palatable. “Can’t a father attend a conference at which his son is giving a speech?” He should win an award for that look of innocence and surprise.

“Not this father.” I moved into the seat beside Wesley. The realization creeping up behind me beginning the 1st Act.

The dynamic of never having your father’s approval, but yet you see it given on almost a weekly basis to your sister, and now best friend isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to consume. All he ever did was brag about his children’s genius. But to my face, I never measured up.

“I am proud of you, Nelson. Regardless of what ulterior motive you choose to assume—”

“I don’t believe you.” I’d never interrupted him before. Never. I felt the curtain rise on Act 2 more quickly than it should’ve.

Wesley blinked his brows into a furrow. A frown finding his mouth.

“Don’t lie.” I stated. “If you were proud, you’d be a real father. Not just some fabricated idea of a role model who is more interested in the inherited intellect of his offspring than the very essence of the man that is his son.” Intermission. The feeling of being a child who’d just talked back quickly faded into understanding that seemed to simultaneously lift a burden and gain a world’s worth more. First it was Deb. Deb is smarter, Deb is the favorite. Now it was Wesley? I hated the ugly feeling slithering up my spine.

“Nelson, he’s your father for pete’s sake.” Wes tried to de-escalate the tension. “You don’t mean that.”

“Looks like he’s grown some backbone.” A slow mocking clap his response. It seemed dad had finally dropped the facade. “You’re not a Syphus. Genetically, perhaps, but not really. Syphus men are leaders. And what are you doing? Following the path of another’s ambition.” A nod toward Wesley.

This isn’t what I’d anticipated. And I knew I wasn’t mentally prepared.

“Wesley. Is smarter than you’ll ever be. An absolute success. He knows what’s important. He’s not afraid to make mistakes. You brushed off the idea of Syntec at first, but Wesley had the good sense to try again. And you continue to mention it in speeches as if it were some kind of virtue.” A haughty laugh dripped from his mouth.

I watched as my dad fired perfect bullseyes into my soul. Jealousy for Wesley quickly switched into anger at my own father and built an apex that brought in Act 3 like the new year. I didn’t realize how tight my clenched fists had become. I wanted to punch him.

“You know they asked for Wesley to give the speech, but I convinced them to let you have it. Your name is what they’re interested in, not you.” He spoke like a professor over-explaining math equations to a group of stupid students. That calm, patronizing voice that everyone has heard before. “You exist as your connection to me. Wesley had the ideas, you were just the route he chose to take them. You’re just riding his coattails.”

The curtain fell on any misgivings I still had. I looked up to see him standing right beside me. I hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten. When did he stand up? He was dangerously near my clenched hand...

He fixed his cuffs again, grabbed the handkerchief I’d laid beside me and held it up. “Dry your tears, son. It’s a hard world out there.” He shrugged, letting it fall to the floor when I didn’t reach out to take it from him.

I couldn’t. Movement of any kind might result in a physical confrontation. No son wants to do that—I did. He needed to leave. I needed him to leave.

“Wait here until you get word that the threat has been handled. You never know what these lunatics are capable of.” With a smile and wink, he moved toward the door. “Safe travels back, boys. I’ll see you at home, Nelson.” Stepping through that door was the kindest thing he’d done all day and its closing provided more comfort than I cared to admit.

“You know it’s not true.” Wesley’s warm tone contrasted how frigid the room had become “I–”

“Wesley—” Don’t say anything you’ll regret. “I need to think.” My tone was sour, resolute. I considered leaving it, but it was from Deb so I forcibly bent to retrieve the handkerchief. He’d used it to mock me. I felt like burning it. “I—need to be alone, Wes.” We met eyes. His expression was tense. As if our friendship hung in the balance. I never wanted to see this room again. Hiding my face in fear of breaking, I made a path to the door.

Wesley called after me. “Nelson, please.”

“Alone.” I felt my voice quiver as I escaped the place still filled with the words I tried blocking out, but somehow they’d already staked their claim. It didn’t matter whether or not I chose to believe them. I would prove my father wrong. Syntec will become the most powerful biotech company in the world and my name will become one of the greats. When it comes, he won’t know what hit him. Resolved, my jaw clenched, my heels clicking on the concrete floor of the front lobby. When it comes, he will see that I am his son. An absolute success after all.

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