STRANGE HAPPENINGS; tag mac

[DALTON ALEXANDER DEAN]

It was four-twenty A.M when Dozier Dean called his son, and told him he was flying out to Seattle. Dalton had been fairly surprised, slightly worried, and a little anxious. Dozier's main form of communication consisted of e-mails and video chats. One of Dalton's earliest memories was sitting in a high chair, as his parents blinked back at him from opposite ends of two T.V screens. Both present visually, and absent physically. Dalton basically raised himself, with help from numerous nannies and au pairs. There was no doubt his parents loved him, but money and status filled the void left by their frequent absences.

When Dozier started including Dalton in the family business, Dalton was reeling. Four years of scandal, successes, and lawsuits but he made it. But after finally meeting with his father, Dalton wasn't so ecstatic about their success anymore. There had been yelling, throwing, and even the threat of tears. As much as he loved his family, there were some things he just didn't need nor want to know. And now he was resentful.

Six O'clock dinner, when planned, was the closest the Dean's had to family tradition. No matter how far or angry everyone was, everyone showed. Whether courtesy of Skype, hologram, or personal appearance. So at Six P.M sharp, Dalton arrived at Stoney River Steakhouse to meet his father. Dalton had never been, but heard of it a few times. Their motto was "Legendary Steaks", which Dalton highly doubted, since they were only sixty dollars.

After waiting over an hour and a half, Dalton accepted the realization his father was not coming. And for once, eating a meal alone left a biter taste in his mouth. He barely touched his steak, and went through a bottle of the menu's most expensive wine, but nothing could dull the leering feeling of impending doom. Whether his father was purposefully being an ass or not, his absence was what Dalton considered an omen.

[CELESTE RENEE PHAM]

Blind dates were nothing more than a punishment set up by friends for being single and they hardly ever went right. If a woman had to be set up with a man through a friend, there was no hope that the relationship would work out. Friends hardly ever knew what each other wanted when it cames to relationships. They always spotted what they would want and therefore their friend was never happy, but she obliged anyway. It was a reason to get out of the house, a free meal and a way to make someone shut the hell up. Celeste showed up to the steakhouse intentionally late only by a few moments however, just because she didn’t want to be the first person to appear and sit there like an idiot waiting for her counterpart. She sauntered into the restaurant, her dress flowing with the every movement of her hips. Her confidence was at its peak because she’d managed to swallow a few shoots back before jumping into a cab. A little social lubricant went a long way.

“I’m looking for a Mr,” her voice trailed on as she tried to remember the guy’s name. At a loss, she clucked her tongue and peered directly past the hostess, hoping to maybe recognize a face in the crowd. Apparently the ma was a well-known writer for the local news source so it wouldn’t be a surprise if she could identify him in a crowd, just not by name. She was horrible at names. “Damn” she muttered, still glancing around aimlessly. It was almost as if she were looking for an excuse to turn around and go home. She didn’t mind being single and in the city. Dating was too much of a hassle on top of her work hours, anyway. She’d been raised at a young age to make sure that her priorities were always straight and keeping scum off of the streets of Seattle was at the top of the list.

She was all but prepared to hail another cab and return home when someone familiar caught her peripheral view. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending upon how on how one looked at it, it wasn’t her date that she’d spotted. Without a second thought, Celeste stormed past the hostess, waving a hand to her as if she were all set and headed directly for Mr. Dean’s table. “You know, I’m surprised you’re here alone or are you waiting for one of your whores to join you?” she spat while standing directly over him. She resembled a crazy ex-girlfriend, but that didn’t matter to her. Her outrage from a recent hearing still boiled deep within her and seeing the man that caused it was all but too perfect. What a better way to spend a Friday night then antagonizing one of the men that ‘allegedly’ ran the biggest prostitution ring in the city!

[DALTON ALEXANDER DEAN]

Dalton’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, a sure sign of impending intoxication. He hated to admit it, but Dalton sort of drank like a girl, a lightweight. He’d never been huge on alcohol, indulging socially but never to the point of blackouts and vulgar behavior. To him, image was everything. Elitist New York didn’t leave much room to be a drunkard, at least not publicly. Plus, his father taking him seriously was something he craved for years. His father wouldn’t do that with the smell of alcohol on his breath. A glass or two of wine or champagne was good enough for him. Tonight however, he drank like a king.

However the process of waiting for the wine to sneak up on him was rudely interrupted by what Dalton interpreted as a banshee in a dress. He wasn’t used to emotional confrontation, let alone in an extremely public place. He stared at the banshee in surprise, startled by the abrupt and unexpected outburst. As his vision cleared, he realized it wasn’t in fact a banshee yelling at him, but what he knew to be the beast’s third cousin. Celeste Pham.

Dalton began to laugh; a deep genuine laugh coming from a place inside him he never even knew existed- the same place his rage at his father had come from only hours ago. “Ohhh, you have got to be kidding me. Fate so cruel, so daring.” Of all people to show up in his life, Celeste was the last person he wanted to see. Ever. His laughter subsided and he turned his eyes away from her, afraid of what she’d see if she looked hard enough. “What are you doing here?” He asked, noticing the unwanted attention her presence attracted. He calmly stood up, slid an arm around her waist, and put the other on her shoulder to force her down in the seat across from him. “Have a seat, darling. I didn’t think you’d be coming.” The term of endearment sounding more like a snarl. He returned to his seat, pleased that eavesdropping heads lost interest, satisfied with his act as an explanation. He leaned back, summoning the waiter to bring them another meal. Nevermind that he’d blown $120 dollars on a wine bottle already, plus the shitty sixty-dollar steak. He repeated his last order, plus a “Porkchop for the lady.” He offered her a bright smile, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of ordering her own meal.

[CELESTE RENEE PHAM]

“Get your hands off of me!” she ordered discreetly, finally becoming aware of the scene she’d caused without intention. She’d wanted to confront him, but not in front of a live audience! The only people whose opinions mattered were that of the jury. Unfortunately, they’d never had a chance to pass judgment seeing as the judge had an increase in salary. She snarled and shoved him away, refusing to answer the question. Oh, was she pleased to realize that he cared more about what a group of strangers in a restaurant thought of him rather than a group of women being helplessly exploited. Celeste slid her hands across her dress and then peered around. What was she doing here again, anyway? She much rather be curled up at home with a bottle of wine, not working late.

After a split moment’s consideration she did indeed take a seat, however, to avert the eyes of those that surrounded them. She hated being stared at and the liquor in her system was only intensifying her aggravation at the entire scenario. Plus, she needed to remove any attention from herself before her blind date suddenly gained the power to see. A sigh graced her lips and she assessed the trouble she was now diving directly into. “Actually, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He always tries to order for me, but I think I want to skip straight to dessert tonight. Afterall, I only have a short break before I have to get back on the streets” spitting the final word, Celeste smiled up sweetly at their server as if this were a normal exchange of attitude between herself and her impotent lover. “Bring me the sweetest thing you can muster up,” it was silly what a simple bat of the eye lashes could do. As the young male scampered away, Celeste was finally able to return her full attention to the criminal before her. “So you never answered my question? Is no one working tonight?” The venom in her tone was enough to paralyze every single person in the building, “you are vile.”

[DALTON ALEXANDER DEAN]

The only thing keeping Dalton from throwing his wine across the table was the fact that he was innocent. Well, at least he had been innocent, last year when Celeste had worked her ass off to accuse his father of funding a string of prostitution rings. They tried bringing Dalton into it as a way to make his father feel guilty, and confess. Little did they know, up until about four hours ago, Dalton really didn’t know anything, and hadn’t been involved. He’d defended his family to the last breath, and they didn’t have enough evidence to tie Dalton into things without reasonable doubt. Celeste was convinced his father had paid off the judge to save his own ass. At the time, Dalton felt extremely betrayed by the system and their false accusations, attempting to destroy and publicly humiliate his family.

The joke was on them though. Because when his father got off, the police department, district attorneys, and public officials had hell to pay. The whole scandal made them look bad, even worse than his father. But not Dalton knew the truth. His father gave and received dirty money from prostitution rings in New York, D.C, and Alexandria Virginia. Now, he was asking his son to do the same in Seattle. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He wanted no part of it. But sitting across from him now, was the biggest reminder of loyalty the world had to display. She’d rocked his world, trying to fuck with his family. It was only fair to rock hers right back.

He winced at her change of order, loathing the current power play. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do, except keep her at the restaurant as long as possible. Keeping her under public scrutiny was the only way to shut her up, and avoid a scene. He poured himself another glass of wine, slouching into his chair with a newfound nonchalance. “Cheers,” he started “to framing the innocent, and breaking families apart.” He leaned across the table, staring at her with newfound ire as his voice dropped into a scolding whisper. “Do you have any idea what you did to my family? My mother couldn’t look my father in the eye for months.” He inhaled a breath of air, trying to stay civil, and leaned backward once more. “If you’re so concerned about what’s happening on the streets, why don’t you try walking them? I’m sure someone would be willing to drop at least a hundred on you. Have you ever watched extreme couponing?”

[CELESTE RENEE PHAM]

“You wouldn’t know what the word innocent meant if I slapped you in the face with a dictionary.” If she was going to enjoy a meal with him, she might as well get comfortable. Celeste sat her handbag and her lap and leaned forward, studying the empty wine glass before her. She considered pouring herself enough to wet her whistle but considered that to be going to too far. She sneered at his lack of conviction and breathed a harsh ‘ha’ with the word family. “Seems like he got off easy then, which I’m sure isn’t new to him. You see, in a normal family – one that isn’t as privileged as your own – when a man is tried for running a scandal in relation to human trafficking he usually doesn’t have a wife to be ignored by. He’d have divorce papers and shame, another thing that you know nothing about.” A slither of pity laced her delivery, “you’d think that with all of that money you’d be able to buy yourself a few lessons in humanity.” Need she wear a t-shirt proclaiming whose side she was on? Celeste Pham was not a fan of the dean family.

And it wasn’t even as if she had been brought up on the wrong side of the tracks. Granted her family couldn’t bathe in money the way that the Deans could, Celeste never had to beg or throw a tantrum to get what she wanted. Aside from wealth, the only difference in their families was that she was raised with a since of morality. She could tell right from wrong and she could admit when she was indeed wrong and when it came to his father, she knew that she was right. How else would some high end banker’s name end up in the middle of all of this if he wasn’t involved? You don’t just run around saying the Ricky Martin did it. His name comes up because he is somehow linked and NOT purposefully irrelevant! She had to fight herself from thrusting her fist onto the table or slapping the glass of wine out of his hand, her eyes ablaze. “And do you have any idea what you’re helping to do to young women in Seattle and probably elsewhere?!” how could he not care? That bothered her more than anything. Involved with the doings of his father or not, how could he not stand up against him and proclaim that he was wrong. Oh how the stain of appearance taunted their society. He seemed civilized enough. “Do you have any sisters, Mr. Dean?” Perhaps a different approach would guide him to the path of sanity.

Aghast by his audacity, Celeste rose her hand to slap him, but dropped it quickly as the waiter approached their table. The sweetest thing in this entire scenario would be the food on the table. He delivered it with a smile and offered more wine, but she said nothing in response, Dalton’s words replaying loudly within her mind. “You watch your fucking mouth when you talk to me, Mister Dean, I am not the kind of woman that can be easily impressed or shut up by your money,” she breathed heartlessly across the table. It took everything inside of her to remain calm, yet her demeanor didn’t demonstrate her struggle, “Can I have a glass of a water please?” She needed a moment of distraction from this monster and silently thanked goodness for this adolescent server.

[DALTON ALEXANDER DEAN]

“I find it interesting, Ms. Pham that you’re the one lecturing me about humanity. I have nothing to prove to you, but I’ll tell you again. The crimes you accused me of? I had no involvement. Nor do I have any useful information for you about it, because I know nothing. Yet you harass me, shout at me in public, and disregard my superb taste in porkchops. Tell me, how humane is it for you to be treating me this way?” Throughout his diatribe, Dalton had been calmly cutting his steak. His voice finally found an even, almost eerie calm, as he put a piece of filet in his mouth and chewed.

“God, that’s awful. I should send it back, shouldn't I?” He put his fork down, perturbed at the filet, and beginning to become less hostile toward his unexpected guest. The sudden calm he felt on the inside was the exact effect he intended to feel. He was starting to feel numb. But the amount of negative energy directed toward him at the moment was enough to fuel a fire. “And no, I don’t know what I’m helping to do, because I haven’t been doing anything at all. “ He was starting to grow weary of this conversation. At first he was mad because she had been right, then he was mad because he really hadn’t done anything at all, until four hours ago when his father told him the truth. Then he was mad about his filet, but slowly getting over it. Now, he was starting to become agitated again. The movement she made to slap him did not go unnoticed, but he decided to disregard it nonetheless. “And a scotch on the rocks. “ he added to the waiter, as she asked for a water. If he wanted to survive the night, he’d be needing something a lot stronger.

“I have a half sister, not that it’s any of your business. And you think I’m trying to impress you? Please. All this,” he pointed to the table as a whole, “is nothing to me. In the scheme of my life, this is a happy meal. Don't flatter yourself thinking I'd waste it on your horrible company.” As the waiter returned with their drinks, Dalton immediately felt at ease again. “You’re insignificant to me, Ms. Pham. I could really care less for your biased opinions, cheap perfume, and tactless behavior. You think I’m a criminal, and I think you’re a bitch. We’re just going to have to agree to disagree, the shouting and insults is a little childish, don’t you think? You invited yourself to dinner, so enjoy it. I’m really not that bad of a guy.” He offered an indifferent shrug, and tipped back his glass. Right now, all he wanted was a truce.