He Took it All Back

When he walked across the lawn, thirty-two-year-old Nixon Carruthers knew the lights along the path led home. His darkness and tallness set him apart from most other financial professionals in his arena. High cheekbones and a Nubian nose painted a portrait of a man who looked keen on showing a different face from the crowd. He called Delaware his home because he had lived in the state all his life. After going to New Sweden University in Wilmington, there would be a stay in New York City. No, it was Wyoming. He knew better than to go to the big city and establish roots as a private equity trader. It was in the West that he made his fortune. He had earned tens of millions of dollars in the span of just two years. As he ambled up the walkway, he thought about his days of flyfishing and learning Jiu Jitsu.

He creaked the door open and looked around in the darkness that blanketed the place.

“Simon, please turn on the lights.” Illumination made his austere furniture gleam. There seemed to be a true sense that the house he had built in Fenwick Island accommodated his family. Well, his family consisted of an English Bulldog named Houseman. The pooch scampered up and licked his owner’s hands.

“Attaboy.” As he rubbed Houseman’s belly, he did notice the towering stack of correspondence slipped through his side door. A twinge of regret surged through him like a streak of lightning. The space looked like the interior of a starship. Dazzling lights kept his head focused on combing through the documents. Houseman barked. Carruthers grinned. “Simon, please turn on the fireplace.” The blaze cast even more light and a bit of warmth in the October evening. Carruthers threw the junk mail in the fire and kept going. The paper curled and blackened like salmon on the grill. He stripped off his jacket and kept seeing messages on his phone. By sitting down in his easy chair, he felt the warmth of the tiny inferno roaring in the fireplace. He rubbed the back of Houseman’s head and smirked.

Away from his desk over 1900 miles away felt like something melting inside of him. He sat there and understood what it meant to be home. Footsteps from upstairs soon alerted Carruthers. A woman thundered down with a smile the size of a blue whale. Angelina Carruthers, 26, wrapped her arms around her husband. She kissed his mouth. Her olive skin and long brown hair carressed his spirit. Her green eyes looked like cut jade.

“Was that a lot of mail or what?”

He looked at her incredulously.

“Why didn’t you just forward them?”

She shrugged. She pursed her lips and tugged on his tie. She clicked her teeth together. A frown and pouty lips plastered her face.

“What?”

“I missed you.”

“I thought you were—”

“Shh….”

The sound of pounding feet, soft and light however, arose.

“Daddy!”

A brown skinned little girl named Becca, 10, with afro puffs hopped onto Carruthers.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“How long are you gonna be home?”

“Just for the weekend, Small Wonder.”

Angelina looked up and beamed. Then, she looked down at Becca then up at her husband.

“You have to allow Daddy and me to have some time to go over big people's business.”

“Okay….” Her head hung low. Carruthers picked up her chin.

“We’ll go out to pick apples tomorrow.”

A smile scurried on the little girl’s face and she hugged him again and turned to go back upstairs.

Angelina watched their daughter ascend the stairs and enter her room. Her eyes then focused on Carruthers.

“Now…you have to sit down with me….”

Carruthers sighed. “Babe, the flight….”

“I know. I know. That’s why I’m going to relax you with some wine and…’Simon, please play a romantic playlist’. See? We can cozy up by the fire and you can tell me all about the flight.”

“I really would like to get some sleep.” He kissed her face and marched upstairs.

“Everything off please, Simon.” Angelina said and no light persisted.

The next morning, Angelina had already left for work as a real estate agent. She had a house to show. She left a video message: “Hey, Babe and Bec’. Gotta go to work. You and Becca pick only Gala apples for the house if you can. Be back soon. Love you both.” Carruthers got Becca ready, including doing her hair. He shaved, showered, and dressed. When they arrived at the orchard, they found a man standing by himself, just appraising the apples. They looked plump and ready to burst with color and flavor. The reds and golds with the red and gold leaves provided shade for the bounty of the harvest. They called the other congregants of the outdoor church dedicated to the sacred, beautiful fruit. The sun dropped bits of light but the leaves still allowed for shadiness to pervade the area. Bontemps “Nickel Slick” Pollard wore sunglasses. He looked like he had the air of either a spy or a car salesman. He was gaunt and slim. His countenance was almond colored and clear of any facial hair. His name fit him he was cold and slippery as ice to Carruthers. Nickel Slick kept his phone close to him and he used it.

Carruthers’ phone vibrated. He held the hand of his daughter. He looked at his mobile device.

“Glad to see you back. Are you ready for this next job?”

“Sure.”

“You’re going to do this job and then you’ll be clear.”

“Alright.”

“You have to transfer one trillion dollars into the 501 (c)(3)’s.”

“Alright.”

“The money is going to be fully siphoned from cartel and communist accounts here. As long as you keep the amounts small, there'll be no taxes.”

“And the Chancery Courts?”

“They’ll be in your favor, if it comes to that.”

“Daddy, I want some apples,” Becca interrupted the text conversation.

“Of course, honey.”

Nickel Slick then walked away and issued a final text.

“You used a burner, right?”

“Yes,” Carruthers responded.

“Destroy it.”

Carruthers looked around.

“Hon, I’m going to stay right here. I’ll be able to see you. Go get some Galas for your mama.”

“Okay.”

Nickel Slick looked back at Carruthers. He saw him demolish the phone. A smile slid on Nickel Slick’s face. He walked to a sports car and sped off into the day.

Carruthers knew what he had to do. He waited. “Becca! C’mon we’re going to go see the pumpkin patch, too!”

“Pumpkins!”

The drive over to the pumpkin patch remained rather stunted as it stayed on the same land. The orange gourds and the chill in the air both combined to produce a sense of the season. With a hayride for Becca, Carruthers would be given the opportunity to transfer the funds from thousands of accounts into the 501 (c)(3) organizations. He sat in his luxury automobile with heat and leather seats that adjusted via artificial intelligence.

He opened the glove compartment for another phone. He began the transfers. Then….

A knock on his driver’s side window caused him to look up. He did this smoothly. With the consistency of a cop, he asked Simon to let down the window.

“Yes?” he asked.

The man’s face looked puffy and dark as soot. He began to yell and then got close to the car.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to move your car…—You may be followed. They know what you’re trying to do. Pollard just sent the message out a few seconds ago. Keep your eyes on your phone.”

“Roger.” Carruthers intoned and then the window closed again.

The man backed away into a black SUV. He sped off from the pumpkin patch. Carruthers shook his head. He returned to the accounts. He mass selected the various places for the money to be drawn from that moment. A sense of relief wafted over him like a warm blanket beating back the autumn bite. He finished. Another knock came to his window. He did the routine over again. This time, it was a young white woman with comely features and blonde curls. Her blue eyes looked like the waters off the US Virgin Islands.

“Free pumpkin spice latte!” I have kid friendly, too!” Her cheeriness would have irritated anyone else, but with Carruthers he was prepared to take cups for Becca, Angelina, and himself.

The young woman then leaned into the car and whispered.

“You might think you’re done, but you have just started something totally unimaginable. These donations will forever change the landscape of the organizations that you have just sent the money to today. Nickel Slick will give you further instructions on what to do.”

She then backed away with the savory sweet beverages in a carrier ready to distribute to the other patrons. She started serving them with a smile. Carruthers shook his head and saw the hayride come back to the front of the patch. He exited the car and received his daughter. He lifted her up in the air. Her smile dazzled.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes. It was like going into a world of orangeness.”

“That’s great, baby,” Carruthers replied. He grabbed onto his daughter’s hand and headed to the vehicle. He then peered at a cruiser.

He saw police lights. With no siren, the blue and red flashes emitted from the top of the vehicle didn’t rankle him. He knew he’d done nothing wrong. Besides, he would expect federal government vehicles to arrive even if he had done something wrong.

“C’mon Beccs, let’s get into the car,” He looked at his phone. There was a text from Nickel Slick.

“Great job on the transfersfers.” Nickel Slick announced. “You won’t have to destroy this phone. Everything is done.”

Carruthers smiled. He still felt the iciness of the day. It was not the weather that seeped into his consciousness but the fact that he had to send out so much money just to keep the idea of a central planner out of his way. He kept driving and thinking about the way that he wanted to make sure that Becca enjoyed her latte. As he backed away from the patch, He saw that the woman delivering the lattes had been talking to the police. Still, no fear crept into Carruthers’ soul. In time, he would make it safely to his home where Angelina had already been home a few hours. She met her husband and daughter in the foyer.

“Mommy we had fun!”

“That’s great and you’ve got apples! Is this latte for me? Thanks!”

She looked at her husband with a dour look.

She held her gaze on his face and said: “Why don’t you go upstairs and play. Mommy will wash and put away the apples.”

“Can’t I just stay down here—-”

“Listen to your mother, Beccs,” Carruthers said without breaking his gaze.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The little girl trudged up the stairs and closed her bedroom door.

“I know what you did,” Angelina pronounced.

Carruthers didn’t seem to be shaken by this assertion.

“Okay. What’s next?”

“What’s next is you send a card to the Harriers congratulating them on their new house. I didn’t know they were friends of yours from college. Everything went beautifully. My commission is going to be heavy. Thank you, babe.” She planted a kiss on his lips.

His phone alerted him to a message.

“He broke away from the embrace with tact and smoothness. Angelina smiled and journeyed into the kitchen. He pivoted.

“Your outcome is ready for you.”

Carruthers grinned. He walked over to his brown leather seat and smirked. He took a moment for the idea to sink into his psyche. Nickel Slick entered into his mind as well. He thought of the man who gave him the opportunity. He looked at his bank account. He noticed the figure. His stomach sank. No figures had been deposited. As an organization that focused on ideas and showing something educational, he didn’t score a dime. For another to sought to bring offenders to justice he received no monetary fix. The reward remained with the fact he had done a deed and that he would be able to demonstrate that he had contributed to the ideas of reason, individualism, and capitalism and informing on criminals. He got up from his seat and thought again of the man who had orchestrated all of this. Every disparaging word he had contemplated against Nickel Slick, he took it all back. He walked with confidence into his kitchen. Houseman barked.

“Simon, please play the first movement to Phyllis Deaver’s Sixth Symphony.” He chomped on an apple.