Chapter Seven: Revelations

It was Monday morning and Chance was up early as usual. Showered and dressed, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked the same as always; chocolate brown eyes, clean texturised short black hair, sideburns and goatee trimmed to the number six setting on his Wahl personal trimmer, while the remaining facial hair was trimmed at number two. Using a disposable Schick razor he usually shaved the excess growth that extended below his jaw and the area on his cheek. He was quite proud with how immaculate he kept his facial hair. On other men it was quite a turn on for him. Facial hair and hair in all the right places on a man was really sexy. Unless the man had an extreme case of body hair overgrowth and back hair. Personal grooming existed for a reason. There were limits to the sexiness of hairy men. He shuddered when an image of the typical Aussie labourer in a singlet - hair exposed on the back and shoulders - came to his mind. Not that all Aussie labourers looked like that, but he'd been across enough construction sites to learn to keep his eyes forward.

Exiting the en suite bathroom he glanced at the phone where it sat upon its dock on his desk across the room. Some time after receiving the alarming phone call the day before, Chance had felt a rage like never before in his life. Someone, a man, was in his house watching him. His privacy had been invaded. When Jon had come home Chance had asked whether he was sure he had placed the letter on the hallway table. Jon was certain. There was no denying that an intruder had been in his house. His fear had changed into anger when he thought about the sick twisted bastard walking through his home, defiling everything with their touch. If complete household sterilisation was possible, Chance would not have hesitated to perform it. The bastard so far had twice attempted to frighten him with promises of vengeance. What kind of freak leaves those kinds of messages without revealing their presence. A coward. That's what. The freak could at least tell him what he'd done to deserve those ambiguous threats.

He had considered going to the police, but there was no proof his house had been broken into. Even as recorded evidence, the phone call was too weird to be construed as menacing given the message about sleeping in and pokers. Only he knew the significance of that message. The meanings of the notes were also unclear, they wouldn't be taken seriously. It wasn't that he didn't have any faith in the police, he was just not able to see how they could help him short of placing his house under surveillance and providing him with a security detail twenty-four-seven. Hell would be snowing before that ever happened. How much help would the cops be able to provide when he couldn't even figure out the meaning of it all himself. He decided to wait a few more days before he went to the police. He didn't want to dismiss everything that had happened as mere pranks. They would wonder why he didn't report the incidents to them earlier. Although, if he received one more note he would immediately report it. Three notes should be enough evidence that he was being stalked at the very least.

Chance was about to head out of his room to get some breakfast when the ringing of the phone stopped him in his tracks. The tune signified it was from his workplace, Radio KPS FM. Jon wouldn't pick it up knowing Chance was up and about.

Answering the phone, he said, "Hello, Chance speaking."

"Chance, it's Jeff," his boss said. "How are you mate?"

"I'm doing really well thanks Jeff, and you?" Chance asked.

Jeff replied, "Can't complain. Listen, I hate to do this to you but I need you to fill in for a reporter later this afternoon. I've had staff going on leave left, right and centre and all my backups are tied up on other jobs, you're my last hope mate."

With a bit of sarcasm Chance said, "Wow, I'm really flattered I was the first one you could think of."

"Beggars can't be choosers when you're scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"I'm amazed you were able to put two cliché's in one sentence."

"Mate, I'm practically a walking cliché. So will you be able to do a bit of reporting for me tonight? You know you'll get paid for it anyway, but I'm hoping you'll say yes."

"It's times like these when I can say my Journalism degree isn't so useless." Chance took a deep breath, he said, "Yeah okay boss, I'll do it, but you know I've got to be back at the station early to get ready for my show?"

"Good man, I knew I could count on you," Jeff said, "And I would expect your show to be your top priority, no matter what I ask you to do."

"Too right, otherwise I would have flatly refused your expedient demand," Chance said.

"That's my boy, radio airtime comes first," Jeff said. "Oh, and I'll need you to come in before three this afternoon so I can brief you on the event to report."

"I'll be there at two," he promised.

"Bring a suit or a tux to wear for the occasion," his boss suggested.

"It's going to be a formal event?" Chance asked curiously.

"I'll tell you when you get here mate, but I'll see you then." They said goodbye and hung up.

The smell of eggs and toast pervaded the air inside the kitchen. It looked like Jon was making cheesy scrambled eggs.

Leaning over Jon's shoulder and peering down at the frying pan, Chance said, "Where's the bacon?"

"In the packaged meat section at the supermarket." Jon concentrated on the cooking like it was a complex task. He always put a lot of thought and effort into whatever he did.

"Careful not to overcook the eggs mate," Chance goaded.

His friend poked him in the ribs with an elbow. Jon joked, "Next time it'll be a knee in the balls. What did work call you for?"

"I have to go in early then report on some event this afternoon." He grabbed some bread and placed it in the four-slice toaster.

"Sounds exciting," Jon said preoccupied.

"It's something different."

"Butter those when you're done."

"Yes master, I wouldn't have thought to do that."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"What would I do without you."

"Still sucking on your thumb I believe, and you know what?"

"I can guess."

"You've graduated to sucking on bigger things now."

"You're so charming, do you want me to tell you about that?"

"Only if you want vomit with your eggs."

"Some other time then."

"How about never."

Chance chuckled. When breakfast was finished, Jon left for work and Chance was alone again. Loathe to be his own company, he decided to go into the city and shop for a suit to wear at the event he would be reporting.

When he arrived at work a little before two, he was feeling full of energy on account of the therapeutic shopping. In his office he hung the suit bag containing his new outfit on the coat rack by the door. Sitting at his desk, he was halfway through checking his emails when the boss poked his head through the door.

"There you are mate, good to see I can always depend on someone when I need it," Jeff said. "You're not busy are you?"

"Never too busy for you boss," Chance said without making it sound like he was ass-kissing.

"You always have the right response for everything," Jeff said as he came into the office and sat down on the couch.

Not exactly everything, he thought to himself, but dismissed it as quickly as it came to mind.

"So about this event tonight?" he asked.

Jeff bounced up and down the couch slightly, wiggled around a bit, while looking up at nothing and making a face as if trying to squeeze out a fart, then finally said, "This couch is pretty comfy, I should get one for my office."

"I can give you the details of where I bought it if you want," Chance offered.

"Maybe later," his boss said, "But first, about this event - It's going to be big; everyone who is anyone will be there, so will all of Sydney's known media, which is why it is imperative that we have it covered."

Chance nodded, leaning forward to provide his full attention.

Jeff continued, "It's a publicity event at the town hall organised by one of Australia's richest men, and he's got his eyes on a parliamentary seat. He only just went in the running for a position as an independent. You've probably heard of him . . . ?"

"Jacob, yeah, I've heard of him," he said, then sarcastically, "Just what we need - another right-wing independent senator."

"You can leave your disdain in this office, you'll be representing our station, and I won't have you tarnishing our good name," Jeff reprimanded.

"You know I'll be completely professional boss," he reassured.

"I know, I just want you to know how important this is, if Jacob is elected to the senate, he'll be more powerful than he is now, and we don't want to get on the bad side of someone like that," Jeff explained.

He agreed, "Definitely not. I understand the implications."

Jeff scrutinised him, searching for some sincerity in Chance's face, he must have found it because he said, "Good, I don't like to sound harsh on this matter but I do trust that you'll handle things expertly."

He gave his boss his best smile, he didn't want to imagine what Jeff would do to him if he stuffed everything up. While Jeff was a good man, he had no desire to be on the receiving end of the station manager's anger.

"Just one question though?" he asked.

"Shoot," Jeff said.

"These events are usually aimed at creating publicity and winning peoples votes," he began, "What angle is he going to be using to do this?"

"The one that tugs at people's heartstrings," Jeff said. "He has donated half a million dollars to the Sydney Children's Hospital and recently founded a charity organisation to raise funds for cancer research. Then again, it's all pocket change for Jacob."

Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Sounds like he really wants a seat in the senate."

"You're telling me." Jeff raised a butt-cheek off the couch and actually did squeeze a fart out this time.

Chance tried to stifle a laugh and look disapproving, but a giggle escaped him anyway. He commented, "Charming."

"Better out than in, I always say. I've also told Jessica to arrange a taxi for you at four," Jeff rose from the couch and waved a hand back and forth across his nose to demonstrate the potency of the gas he'd recently expelled. At the door he said, "I'll just leave this door open for you mate."

Chance covered his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, even before he could get a whiff of the fart, and said nasally, "Please."

A vision of himself twitching comically as he suffocated from Jeff's noxious gases played in his head and he ran out of the room before it could come true. He skidded to a halt before he could crash into the office across from his own.

There was still a couple of hours before the event started. He decided to collect the recording equipment he would need to perform his duties from the store room and when that was done, a sufficient amount of time should have passed to make it safe for him to return to his office. No stench strong enough to kill any living creature greeted him in his office. Thankful, he sat down and made the necessary preparations, which mostly involved researching the people on the guest list and brainstorming questions for the inevitable questions and answers session.

When four o'clock neared he got up from his desk and locked his office door for some privacy while he changed into his newly acquired suit. Satisfied with his presentability he gathered the recording equipment and headed outside to the front of the building to wait for the taxi. On his way out he passed Jessica. She wished him luck, complimented him on his new suit and ogled him like a piece of eye candy.

The taxi arrived on time, which was fortunate, considering the amount of traffic at that time of day. Sydney's town hall wasn't too far, yet in the taxi it took close to half an hour to reach. He filled in the cab-charge chequebook, gave it to the driver and thanked him.

At the front doors, Chance registered his arrival. He was given a pre-prepared media pass with his details and photograph on it and which was attached to a lanyard. He set up his recording equipment on a large lectern that was placed on a stage. There were already a lot of microphones belonging to other media crammed in around the top edges so he squeezed his in where it would fit.

Standing up, he had a good view of the expansive function room of the town hall. Rows of seats were lined up in three sections in front of the stage split up by two aisles. He couldn't say for sure how many there were, but it looked close to a few hundred. Even then there was still plenty of space on the sides and around the back for any camera crew. The stage was set up with a couple of long trestle tables positioned a bit over a metre back and on both sides of the lectern. The backdrop of the stage featured a large screen for a projector, hung in front of a burgundy velvet curtain. Floral arrangements sat on cocktail tables along the walls of the room and white silk bunting hung down from the centre of the roof to the top edge of the halls perimeter. There was another room he had yet to see, where guests would mingle and which no doubt looked similarly decorated.

Walking off the stage and down the stairs he sighed heavily. He was not looking forward to the next few hours of trivial socialisation with the upper class.

"Oh my, are you Dr. Day?" A female voice called from the large wooden entry doors.

Chance groaned inwardly, but brought forth a broad smile as a woman in a flowing green gown made her way towards him with graceful flair. She appeared in her middle years but may have been older, it was hard to tell under all the make-up. It looked like she was no stranger to plastic surgery and face-lifts either.

"Yes, indeed," he said in a groomed voice, "And who may I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Please, you may call me Marlene," the woman said casually, "I feel like I know you so well after listening to so many of your shows."

"I'm flattered," he said, the blush that reddened his cheeks was genuine. "What I do isn't that special."

"Nonsense, don't be so modest," Marlene said, "You are a source of hope to all the people down on their luck and an inspiration and role-model for those who dream of becoming psychologists."

Chance's red cheeks deepened in colour and Marlene laughed in delight. He said, "Really, you do flatter me too much. But I thank you for your compliments."

Marlene rubbed the side of his arm in a friendly manner, she said, "You're welcome, pre-event cocktails will be served soon, I would like to have a drink with you before everything begins."

"I look forward to it," Chance said.

"Good, I'll speak with you again soon." With that, she hurried towards the back of the room and disappeared behind a well concealed door.

After the exchange, he was left wondering who the charismatic woman was, their conversation was too brief for him to ask many questions, but Marlene was obviously someone very important going by her confident manner, expensive attire and first name basis with the would-be-senator. He decided to ask her when they had a drink together.

Orchestral music flowed from the adjacent entertainment room, and as Chance entered, he was surprised at how many people there were. Hundreds of smartly dressed individuals filled the room, chatting, laughing, and drinking. Waiters and waitresses weaved through the crowd bearing champagne and cocktail glasses filled with their respective alcoholic beverages.

Chance wanted to fly under the radar, stay low and avoid any attention. Yet there seemed no likelihood of such a thing happening, which became apparent after no more than a few minutes of being in the room. A surprising number of people recognised him and those who didn't discovered who he was from the name printed on his media pass. For over half an hour he traded pleasantries and light humour with the rich, the famous and the powerful.

He noticed Marlene saunter towards him while speaking with the Mayor of Sydney. She carried two glasses of champagne and handed one to him. She raised her glass in preparation for a toast.

"This night may be reserved for my husband, Jacob, but I would like to toast Dr. Day for his invaluable contribution towards decent radio," she said.

So that was who she was; wife of the man running for an independent seat in the senate. He was glad he didn't make a fool of himself earlier.

"Here, here," the Lord Mayor said.

They toasted and he politely sipped his champagne.

"Your husband is a generous person to donate so much money for a great cause," Chance said to Marlene.

"He is, isn't he," she said proudly, "He even came up with the idea himself, usually I have to twist his arm to get him to do anything at all."

They laughed at that. Chance wished he was elsewhere. This wasn't his world, he was used to being around people who swore around him, or farted around him, people who were just themselves and not self conscious. He didn't dislike these people, they were decent enough, just not the kind he would associate with on a regular basis.

"I hear your husband wanted your son to become the new CEO of his company," the Lord Mayor said to Marlene.

"Oh, yes, but that depends on whether my son wants the position," Marlene said, "I know his heart lies elsewhere, but I think Talan would make a fine CEO."

Chance almost fell over when he heard Marlene say this. A wary apprehension fell over his shoulders and he was almost too afraid to ask. With a slight quiver in his voice he said, "Your son Talan?"

"Yes Dr. Day?" she said.

"Is he . . ." Chance swallowed a lump in his throat. "Is he a lawyer?"

"Yes, he is in fact," Marlene said smiling.

"For legal aid?" he pressed.

"Yes," she replied, then asked, "Do you know of him?"

"I, uhm," he stammered, "I've met him."

"Yes, that's right, there was the tragic incident with that bike of his, I hope you don't hold that against him, I completely forgot that had happened." She turned to the Mayer saying, "I have tried to get him to drive a car like everyone else but he . . ."

Her words drowned out as the news hit him. Talan. Talan Kedron. Son of one the richest men in Australia. He was shocked, but surprisingly not angry. It seemed to make sense now. He remembered the occasional mention of Talan in several newspaper articles done on Jacob, but he never put the two together. While Jacob didn't shy away from media attention, his family and private life was always that - private, therefore there wasn't much information about his wife and son. He couldn't understand why Talan would keep this knowledge from him. It was pretty big news anyway, even though he wouldn't have thought any different of the man.

"Dr. Day," Marlene said, "Are you alright? You don't look well."

Chance smiled. He said, "I'm fine, thank you."

"Well, I have to be off, my husband is about to make an announcement and I am supposed to be by his side when he does. It's been a pleasure." She left, seeming to glide as she walked across the room and up some grand stairs to a mezzanine level overlooking the room.

"Why don't we go see what this is all about," the Lord Mayor said to him.

He nodded and as they walked to the space directly below the overlook that reminded him of the balcony which the Pope would make his speeches to the masses, people would part to make way for them.

Jacob Kedron appeared with his wife in hand. Marlene looked like a queen up there, prim and proper.

The room quietened as Jacob surveyed the crowd. Had any camera equipment been allowed into the room, there would have been camera flashes to rival a lightning storm.

"I thank everyone for being here," Jacob began, "And although my presentation will soon begin, I would first like to mark this special occasion with the announcement of some good news."

He turned to his wife, giving her the lead. She said in a clear strong voice, "Our lives have been very private thus far, but that has changed ever since my husband has decided to run for a seat in the senate."

Jacob put a hand over his heart and said, "I apologise for that dear."

The crowd laughed at the joke.

"So it is with the great pleasure that I make this announcement," Marlene continued. She motioned to someone behind her. A beautiful young woman stepped out and stood next to her. Jacob also motioned to someone behind him, but whoever it was seemed reluctant to come into view. After a bit of persuasion, a man stepped out. A man Chance recognised all too well. Talan. Marlene went on, "My son Talan Kedron, will be marrying this lovely young woman, Cassandra Bates."

The crowd cheered and applauded. Chance felt like someone had hit him in the face. He wanted to sit down, but there was nowhere for it. Around him the room spun and the walls threatened to box him in. It took all his effort to stay upright. When the dizziness passed, he glanced up again and saw Talan looking directly at him. The shock on his face must have matched his own. Why would Talan be shocked? It may have been he didn't expect to see Chance standing there, next to the Mayor of Sydney. But that couldn't have been it. There was more written on his face, he appeared hurt as well, aggrieved.

Talan inched closer towards the railing while still looking at Chance, his countenance remorseful now. Chance broke their eye contact, turned and made his way to the back of the room. He'd had enough revelations for the day, what he needed was some more champagne.