Hutch froze, locking his eyes to Casimir's. The expression he wore was filled with regret, and Hutch knew what was happening. This was who they'd been trying find in the kaleidoscope sea. He had come to warn him, that Brett Barstow was somewhere at the party.
Hutch straightened his back, and gave Casimir a subtle nod, lifting the empty glass in his hand and flaring out his index finger, then pinky. 'Can engage. Using caution. Holding form.'
Casimir returned the nod, and they both turned to face the man who had spoken his name.
"Brett," Hutch stated. "Well, this is a surprise."
Brett was a larger, older, version of Hutch, with brown hair a few shades lighter. They shared the same blue-grey eyes, and broad-shouldered build. He had kept himself in excellent shape, continuing from his years as a high school jock, who had been blessed with money, and a reasonable level of brain. His failings, which were numerable, were kept well-hidden behind the mask his job and reputation could provide.
Hutch couldn't remember much about the man. He looked exactly as he could recall. He'd forgotten the sound of his voice decades ago, and hearing it again, had left a strange lump in the back of his throat. For more than anything else, what he recalled of this man, was his insistence, that he was not his son, and how desperate he had been to hear the opposite, just once.
"Surprise my ass." Brett was harsh with his reply, grabbing Hutch's arm and yanking him in close. "How the hell did you manage to get in here? And who'd you steal this getup from?"
Hutch's hand had clutched tight to the glass, his other balled into a fist. If not for Casimir's quick reaction, he wasn't certain he would have been able to maintain what composure he had left.
"You may wish to get ahold of yourself, and rather swiftly," Casimir warned, having stepped in between them, "there are security guards everywhere. Actions like yours, have already been noticed."
Hutch moved his eyes about and knew Casimir wasn't bluffing. Faster than he could blink, he spotted two guards who were alert, and a third moving closer, which meant that there were at least another three, blocked from his view.
"My apologies," Brett replied, as he took a step back and released Hutch from his grasp, "But I happen to know this delinquent, and couldn't help but wonder how he managed to find his way in here."
"This delinquent, came with me. I'm his employer, Casimir Salvador. Considering I don't recognize you; you must be here as a plus one."
"Indeed, Mr. Salvador," Brett replied, as Hutch straightened his sleeve, vigilantly checking to ensure his cufflink was still in place. "I'm here with Katherine Fusan. I'm Brett. Brett Barstow, CEO of Juisan Textiles."
"Ah, yes. That's a subsidiary of the BarRoss Corporation, is it not?"
"You are again correct," Brett responded, his demeanor shifting with the tide of the conversation, growing smug when Casimir recognized his family's business holdings.
"Nice to meet you," Casimir said, extending out his hand along with the pleasantries.
Brett's eyes widened. His tone shifting from asshole to saint, as he greedily took Casimir's hand in his own and gave it an enthusiastic, eager, shake.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. Jules never mentioned he had a job, so you'll have to pardon my surprise over all of this."
"It's a recent acquisition," Hutch commented, irritated by Brett's blatant disregard for privacy. "Not that this is the place to announce it."
"It most certainly is not," Casimir concurred. "Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mr. Barstow."
"Again," Brett remarked, lurching forward in an awkward manner to prevent Casimir from walking away. "I'm sorry for keeping you, but would it be too much of a bother if I borrowed Jules for a few minutes. There's a bit of a family matter, regarding his mother, that's rather important to discuss."
Casimir halted and turned to face him once again. There was something chilling about the look in his eyes, threatening in their very glare. Had they been on Illimev, Hutch was certain, Brett would have just lost his head.
"Follow me, Mr. Barstow. Such matters will be discussed in private. You've disturbed my other guests, long enough."
The tone of Casimir's words cut like a sword of bitterly cold steel, and Hutch was uncertain of what Brett had said that had his mood so frigid.
Leading Hutch and Brett to the entrance of the private dining section, which had been cordoned off for specific VIP guests, the posted guard, had opened the way to let them through, at Casimir's approach. Arriving at the first room, where a member of the wait staff was standing at the entrance, Casimir allowed Brett to enter first, motioning for Hutch to stop in the hall.
Hutch watched as Casimir entered the room and a feeling of guilt for the inconvenience this was causing swarmed up from his gut, as he listened in.
"Wait here," Casimir instructed Brett, before stopping in front of the waitress in the doorway, adding. "Get him a drink, on the house."
Hutch lowered his head, as Casimir moved over to him, stopping at his side, where his hand once again, fell firm upon his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Hutch muttered, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Don't be. I know he's a thorn. If you want him gone, say the word."
"I'd rather find out what he wants first. Him referring to us as family, is… concerning. I'm worried Cherry may have told him of my connection to Celina."
Casimir nodded, and smiled in a sadistic, unsettling way. "I thought the exact same thing. Tell him, you're on your break, but take as much time as you want. Your waitress is River. Order nothing, say her name, and she'll make certain you aren't disturbed. A salty dog, will get you a guard."
"Let me guess, a crown royale to bring you back?"
"No, but that's good. I'll be using that in the future."
"Tell Celina not to worry," Hutch told him as he watched River leave the room. "This is a piece of cake after dealing with you."
Casimir pat his shoulder and took the empty glass from his hand. "If it was still full, you'd still be carrying this."
"Understood."
A final pat on his shoulder, and Casimir, left him to enter the dining room on his own. Stepping inside, he stood before the table, and glared down at Brett, who had made himself comfortable at the apex of the table. His oversized gold watch and chunky college signet ring, gleamed under the light of the dining room chandelier. Everything about him screamed 'I grew up on daddy's money,' from the smug look on his face to the gaudy trinkets, and the way he splayed himself out at the table, when there was no one left to impress as if he had somehow earned the right to be there, and not stumbled into it by chance.
"We are not family," Hutch stated, making his position on the matter very clear. "Whatever it is you wish to discuss, make it quick. I'm not letting anyone fuck up this job for me. Not Cherry, and especially not you."
"Take a seat, kid. We're family enough."
"Are we now," Hutch replied, as he continued to stand, refusing to sit, not wanting to give that man the satisfaction of doing as he was told.
"According to your mother. She called me a couple of days ago, based on what she said, I take it you can finally understand why I can't trust her at her word."
"Make your point, if you have one."
"Come on Jules don't be like this. Take a seat. I've got a drink coming, and clearly your boss understands the importance of family. So, let's have a conversation. Just the two of us. Like we used to."
"I'm not interested in what we used to do. If you don't have anything to say, I'm leaving."
"You're not leaving," Brett remarked. "I have plenty to say. Starting with, I know I haven't been fair with you. But you need to understand that there was so much more at play. All I'm asking is that you sit down and hear me out. Since we're both here already."
"You have ten minutes. Don't waste what remains of my break," Hutch said, taking a seat, just as River returned to the room.
Laying down a coaster before Brett, she carefully set his drink on to it. "Glen Fiddich thirty, with ginger ale. As requested," she relayed his order, before turning to Hutch. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Hutchinson?"
"No, thank you, River. We won't be long."
"Of course. I'll make certain you aren't disturbed," she replied, bowing her head before leaving the room.
"There, now start talking," Hutch was abrupt on purpose, not wanting Brett to linger on anything unimportant.
Hutch knew he'd wasted too many days in his youth, desperate for this man to be his father, but with Brett unaware of him being beyond such foolish notions, he saw no reason to inform him of the change just yet.
"Mr. Hutchinson. Damn, Jules, look at you. I don't know what your angle is, or how you managed to convince a man like Salvador to hire you, but I'll give you credit; nicely done."
Despite what he was saying, Hutch wasn't entirely convinced that he didn't know the truth. Cherry wasn't exactly subtle when she wanted something, and information, like a connection to the Stanton family, isn't the type of thing she'd normally keep to herself.
"And I know you're probably pissed, but can you really blame me for jumping to the wrong conclusion when I saw you? You can't tell me that you weren't thinking that eventually, hanging around events like this, with people like these, that we weren't bound to run into each other."
"You're wasting time."
Brett, took a drink from his glass, setting it back onto the table.
"My point is, I'm glad you did. However, you managed it, I couldn't be happier to be sitting at this table with you now. You're close enough to eighteen, that I don't see why I should have to wait any longer to tell you the truth. From the beginning, I've been forced to deny it. I wanted nothing more than to raise you as my son. To be the dad you deserved, but it would have cost me everything. I had no other options Jules. I had to do what I was told. And by the time I realized that I didn't, it was too late to fix the mistakes. I couldn't have watched Sheridan get ripped to shreds in courts, or see you being forced to choose between us. Despite how things turned out, I want you to know that I did love her at one point. But regardless of what she told you, I know she cheated on me, and that complicated things. Look, it wasn't obvious when you were little, it made it easy for everyone to deny, but now, it's like looking in a mirror, when I was your age. It couldn't be more obvious, that you're my son."