CHAPTER 69

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          Toronto. Tuesday, April 17.

From the day the adoption papers were signed, Mike had wanted to be a father to Phillip in every sense of the word. High on his priority list was to give the boy a set of values, far different from those he would have received from Jim Servito, his natural father. After almost ten years of frustrating effort, he worried that he had failed, and each day he was brutally reminded of his failure. He cringed at Phillip's shiftless self-indulgent behavior and his flaky lackadaisical approach to his job and his constant and pathetic scruffy appearance. He was usually dressed in his faded and miserably threadbare jeans, his face perpetually unshaven, his hair too long, his baseball cap almost always on backwards and incredibly, just like his natural father, he had installed a diamond earring in his right ear lobe.

Only the persistent pleadings of Karen had prevented Mike from carrying out his threat to fire Phillip. Out of guilt, maternal instinct, genuine love, or all three, Karen had refused to allow her son thrown to the wolves. Mike was certain she wanted him shielded from the world that had corrupted his natural father.

Mike and Karen entered their den to find the couch had been moved to within five feet of the television set, Hockey Night in Canada near full volume. Phillip's right foot, still clad in his filthy brown boot, was visible above the back of the couch. The remainder of his body occupied the couch, as if it was his private realm.

Mike circled the couch and turned the television set off.

"What did you do that for?" Phillip protested, then propped himself with his elbow.

"Your mother and I would like to talk to you. Surely you could spare the time from your busy schedule."

"Can't you wait until the first period's over?"

Mike shook his head. "What we have to talk about is a little more important than a hockey game, but if it's is really that important to you, watch it later." He turned on the television set, then the VCR, and pressed RECORD. He turned to face Phillip. "Now, let's talk."

"What about?" Phillip asked, glaring angrily at his step father.

"Have you ever taken the time to consider what you're going to do with the rest of your life?"

"Yup."

"Good. What are you going to do?"

"None of your business."

Mike and Karen exchanged pained glances, then Mike turned again to face Phillip. "Your mother and I have something very important to tell you. We think it's something you must know."

"What?"

"It's about the money your natural father left after his death...The truth of it is that we really didn't..."

"I know," Phillip interrupted. "You've been lying to me. You never did give it back to the government, did you?"

"How did you know?" Mike asked, stunned and wondering how Phillip knew.

"I heard you and mom talking. I know you still have it, that it's in a trust, and that you're

going to give it to charity... That isn't going to happen. My real father told me the money would

be mine if anything happened to him, and that I could use it to become richer than him. That's

what I want to do with the rest of my life."

Phillip's revelation introduced a disaster scenario. His attitude, unless adjusted, could

ruin everything. "Have you ever considered the implications of that course of action?" Mike

asked.

"Sure. I'll be able to watch the hockey game without being interrupted," Phillip replied with a smirk. "I don't care what you say. My real father gave that money to me, and if he was still alive, you and mom wouldn't be here to hassle me about it."

Mike summoned every ounce of patience in his body. "That's probably true, but he's not here and the money's going to charity."

Phillip sprang to his feet, an explosion of disappointment giving way to visceral rage. "Fuck you!" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Mike. "You're not my father. You're nothing but my mother's husband. If you so much as even think about giving that money away, I'm going to make your life miserable."

"And how are you going to do that?" Mike asked, fighting an urge to explode.

"I'll go to the Feds and tell them the whole damn story. Then they're gonna ask you where you got the money. What are you gonna tell them?"

Mike shook his head in disgust. "Get out of my sight! Do it fast before I do something I'll regret."

Phillip turned to face his mother. "Don't let him give it away, mom. I don't want to tell the Feds, but I will if..."

Karen slapped her son's face as hard as she could. "You heard what Mike said," she hissed, "Get out!"

Phillip's sneer oozed rage and contempt, his brown eyes displaying an ominous resolve. "If I don't have every dime of that money by my twenty-first birthday, I'm going straight to the government." He turned and marched from the room.

Karen and Mike stared at each other in shocked disbelief. "Do we have any options?" Karen asked, fully aware that there were few, all of which were unpalatable.

Mike took Karen in his arms and exhaled. "I don't know. At least he had the courtesy to give us some time to find one...I feel so guilty. If only I..."

Karen placed her index finger on Mike's lips. "Don't say it. You could second guess yourself all the way to the insane asylum. You've done nothing wrong," she said, failing to mention that Mike's idea to keep her former husband's money was terribly wrong.

"This is absolutely ludicrous!" Mike declared, raising his arms skyward, his face displaying frustration and despair. "That money is cursed! It's giving me the same horrible claustrophobic feeling it did ten years ago. Servito's got to be laughing at me from his grave."

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