Casimir would leave a short while later, after having consumed the rest of his coffee. Hutch had given him the perfect opportunity to depart, and he'd wisely taken it, given the shift in the atmosphere. Having laid out the proposal for Hutch's mother, there wasn't much else for Casimir to do anyways, as inevitably, it was Hutch that had to convince his mother that this was a good idea. Lucky for him, he had the rest of the year to do so, although he desired for her approval far sooner. Not that her disapproval would have necessarily stopped him. However, he had come to value the peaceful co-existence he had built with his mother and didn't want this to cause their relationship to crumble back into what he had been before. In that, he was willing to make compromises, to keep her happy, at least until he was 18, and then she'd have no say at all.
Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hutch joined his mother at the table. She had been polite when Casimir left, but now her silence was speaking volumes as to her mindset, and it wasn't good, from what he could tell. Something Casimir had said to her had struck a nerve, and Hutch wasn't entirely certain of what it was. All he could do was sit and watch the plumes of smoke hang in the air above the table, and hope at some point, she'd speak her mind.
She had kept her eyes to the table and been pressing her finger into the lose flakes of ash, before flicking them off into the nearby ashtray, when she finally spoke.
"It's a lot," she muttered, running the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. "So nice on the surface, but a judgmental, arrogant, prick beneath."
"He's certainly arrogant, I'll give you that, but he's arrogant because he's right and he knows it. It's an annoying little habit of his," Hutch replied, despite being confused by his mother's other utterings.
Casimir had been genuinely respectful, and while a touch arrogant, far less than was his norm, whether that was due to being a family man or just his old age that had softened him up, Hutch couldn't be certain. As for him being judgmental though, that was a complete mystery. Casimir hadn't been judgmental over anything, not their living conditions, not the way Cherry was dressed, or the cheap quality of the coffee. He hadn't snickered or wiped down any of the surfaces. He didn't even examine the mug to ensure its cleanliness. He hadn't even fussed about her smoking.
"But you're going to have to explain the rest. Why would you think any of that?" he questioned, wanting some clarity as he was unable to figure it out on his own.
"Because I've been in this business long enough to know men like him, Jules. Rich pricks are all the same. You want to know why he won't say no to his wife? A guilty conscience. Men like him toss away thousands on high-end escorts and luxury hotel rooms for weekend 'business' trips, and brag about it while tossing singles around at the club, because it makes them feel powerful and important. The moment they get back to their wives, they bend and fold and get off on doing what they're told, while wiping away their tears with hundred-dollar bills. All I had to do was act a bit demurer and more reserved and he jumped at the chance to lite me up. I've seen so many, just like him, expecting his money to drop panties like the clouds drop rain. This opportunity may look good on the surface but scratch a little deeper and it has exploitation written all over it. And I'm betting his wife's a whinny little bitch as well."
"Hey now! That's going way too far!" Hutch snapped, slamming his hands onto the surface of the table. "And you called him judgmental?"
"Sorry, sorry," Cherry held up her hands, "you're right. That was unfair, I've never met her. It's very possible she isn't anything like the mousy little tarts that come in looking for their wayward husbands."
"I can assure you; Celina is nothing like them," Hutch stated. "As to how she ended up with Casimir in the first place is a mystery to me too, but personality flaws aside, you're wrong about him also. I don't see how this offer will benefit anyone other than me."
"That's why you're still the child here, and I'm the adult. Do you really think he's going to pay a fair wage for your work? Think again. He said salary. That means it doesn't matter what you do, he could work you to the bone one week and give you nothing to do the next and the pay doesn't change. Oh, but mark my words, it will be to the bone every week, until you quit. Then all the fluff, the pretty promises, they go out the window. And that scholarship? What a joke. He said, 'eligibility for,' and that is not a guarantee. And if it was a guarantee, botany, and horticulture? Really? You suddenly got a thing for plants I don't know about? Last I heard, you were more interested in carpentry. Now you're lining up to be a scientist in a lab? Think again, Jules. I love you to bits, and I want what's best for you, always, but when was the last time you had a grade above a C? 3.6 is a big ask for a drop out with barely a 2.0. You're 17, and you have an entire semester to make up for as it is. Even if you get perfect grades from here on out, I'm not sure what he's asking is even possible."
"So, your concern is that he's going to work me too hard at a job that requires little to no education, because it might be impossible for me to get the scholarship for a position that does?"
"That is not what I said, and you know it!" she shouted, snuffing out her cigarette.
"Then tell me what I misinterpreted," Hutch replied, maintaining a calm and reasonable demeanor.
If his mom did have legitimate concerns, he truly wanted to hear them. He wouldn't be able to negotiate or counter them otherwise, and arguing with her wouldn't keep the conversation going either.
"Fine! Yes! That's exactly what I said," she hollered and threw up her hands. "But you want the truth, here it is; This offer wasn't out of kindness Hutch. It was out of pity. There, I said it. They offered you an unobtainable goal and will extort you for free labor under the guise of a 'co-op' and will pay you next to nothing for your real work. He said it himself that he's been looking for almost a year to find a sucker for the position. Meanwhile, they get to pretend to be the heroes, letting you live in their big fancy house, drive their company cars, parade you around like a little show pony in front of all their rich friends, 'oh look at us taking in the poor kid and giving him a taste of a life, he could only dream of.' And here you are chomping at the bit to be a part of that world. It's the same world that shit out people like Brett and his shit-stains for parents. I know that attraction, sweetheart. The money talks, and it looks really nice at a distance, but get up close and you'll see that every bill has its damage. Rips and creases, and covered in someone else's sweat, tears, and cocaine. It's all dirty, Jules, and the more you have of it, the dirtier you become to. People like them, think nothing of people like us. They won't think twice about grinding you into dust and forgetting about you. You may be a distant relation to her, but my gut is telling me, it isn't going to amount to much."
Hutch let her have her say. He listened to every bitter word, snide remark, and the sheer hypocrisy, without interrupting. And when she was done, he nodded.
"I truly hope, on that last point, you are eventually proven wrong. And I'm choosing to take your inference of slave labor and the show pony remarks as satirical jokes, driven by an unhealthy bias. I'm eager for this opportunity because as impossible as it may be to obtain, I feel driven to try. They may be waving a possible future around for me, like a carrot hanging from a stick, but it's the first real carrot I've been offered here. I'm never going to be interested in having the kind of money they do. That will never be my goal. But having enough to live comfortably, without worrying over what we might do if something catastrophic happened, would be nice. I know I have a lot to make up for but let me take advantage of them while I do it. Let them take on the responsibility of teaching me how to drive, putting me on their insurance and letting me use their car. Let me take their money from them and use it to help fix this place up. Now, while I'm asking you for your permission to do this, I'm also going to ask that you wait for the written agreement, outlining the specifics, including the salary, before making any final decisions."
Cherry took a breath and released a heavy sigh. "Fine. I will wait to read over the agreement before I tell you this will happen over my dead body. I'll be damned before I let some rich, cock sucking assholes, come into my house and take my son from me. You weren't good enough for that family when I birthed you, and I'm not going to let them take advantage of you now. Now go to bed. It's late and this conversation is over."
"For now," Hutch replied as he stood from the table. "But you are missing one very important thing though."
"And what's that?"
"Rich and wealthy are two different things. The Salvador's are not the Barstow's. And while I'm certain you've dealt with more than your fair share of wealthy men, and you're probably right about them, in a broad sense, I guarantee you've never seen a man like Casimir walk into your club before. And I can also guarantee that you never will, because he isn't wealthy. He's rich. He's the sort of rich that even the wealthy can't fathom." Taking a step away from the table, Hutch stopped and looked back over his shoulder at his mother, saying, "And the worst part of all, is you just made me defend him," leaving her with that final parting shot as he headed off to bed.