andrew mumford will teach you how to dance. (ladysoldier) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-06-26 01:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | jeremy gilbert, peggy carter |
WHO Wayne and Andrew Mumford.
WHAT Uh-oh, Andrew's in trouble.
WHEN Recently!
WHERE The Aria, Wayne's place.
WARNING Nothing really!
Wayne wasn’t accustomed to being lied to by anyone. Well, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t accustomed to letting them live afterward. Andrew was blood though and Maren...she might be useful in the long run. There was something he wasn’t being told, he was sure of it, but what that was exactly, he wasn’t sure. So, in true Mumford fashion, Wayne intended on playing his grandson so that he’d get some more information. Despite all the slack he was giving Andrew, very little had been done. The positions Ms Westerberg freed up were filled a mere twenty-four hours after his conversation and that was enough to appease him for the moment. Feelers were dispatched around the area, checking in on the local crime families in Nevada, Arizona and Southern California. He wanted to know exactly what he was getting into and he really didn’t want to stay in Las Vegas any longer than strictly necessary. It was far too hot here. He rarely left his villa at the Aria, enjoying the lavish accommodations and cool air. Honestly, why anyone would leave the comfort of a room like this to sweat in the heat outside was beyond him. Already he hated it. He pushed those thoughts aside as he heard the door open, indicating that Andrew had arrived. The guards stationed at the door were his close, personal guards, ones that were familiar with his grandson and vice versa. They had been instructed to inform Andrew that he was to head to the study off to the left of the entrance. The hallway his grandson would walk down was tastefully decorated in the modern art that the Aria featured, a bit different from their penthouse on the East Side. He would pass the open kitchen and then a bathroom before coming to the large open room that Wayne had dubbed his study. There was a bookshelf on one wall, a large oak desk with a black leather recliner that Wayne was currently seated in, and two chairs that looked far more comfortable than they really were situated in front of them. “Andrew, thank you for joining me. How has your day been?” To say that Andrew was not looking forward to this meeting was the understatement of the century. Oh, god, was he not looking forward to this. Never before had he deliberately lied to his grandfather. Even before Andrew knew (at least generally) how Wayne Mumford dealt with liars and cheats, he never tried to test the waters. Wayne was the type of man that had the innate ability to intimidate people. His grandson included. The only authority figure Andrew ever really remembered, he respected Wayne immensely and never thought to even fib to the older man. But he was compromised by fondness for a girl he shouldn’t care about, Maren Westerberg, and the desire to keep her alive. He didn’t have many friends in the business, and Maren also happened to have a journal and fictional character connected to her as well. He wanted to keep her around. But he also knew his grandfather would be very displeased, and it was that knowledge that weighed him down as he made his way to his grandfather’s Las Vegas place. The bodyguards were intimidating as usual, and Andrew quickly made haste towards the study they pointed him to. Deep breath in, he opened the door, immediately offering his grandfather a casual smile. “Hi, Granddad.” He shrugged. “Fine, nothing to complain about. How about you?” Andrew hoped maybe if he stalled the blow wouldn’t be so bad. At this particular moment, Wayne was waiting for more information on Ms Westerberg. There was something about the girl that didn’t sit right with him and her penchant for literary anything was the least of it. Oh, he’d gone through the entries in this journal of his and discovered quite a few people of interest were also saddled with this rather unfortunate situation. Out of mere curiosity, he read the boy’s post and found himself amused. Timelines were such a tricky thing in a fictional world. Perhaps that would be to his advantage and the boy wouldn’t sulk when they left. Wayne was quite serious about only staying long enough to get their affairs in order. The real business, his empire, was in New York and that was where his attention was required. “Good,” he replied, shuffling some papers around on his desk until he found the file of dossiers on the people he’d filled those fifteen positions with. “Here are the people that have filled the opened positions Ms Westerberg secured for us. I did not realize she had a penchant for fire. That could pose a problem.” Wayne spoke as if they were discussing the weather, not a young woman’s penchant for flame. “I see she’s living in one of the apartments that were designated as a safe house. Her RV burned down, didn’t it?” Here he looked up at his grandson and there was something in his eye that indicated he knew something else, even if he didn’t. Andrew would fill in the blanks. Andrew swallowed hard, but straightened his back up and took a seat in front of his grandfather’s desk. This was going to be bad, he already knew it. Wayne had a look about him like he knew something was off about the whole story. Wonderful. He crossed his legs and huffed like all of this was a big deal and leaned forward to thumb through the dossiers spread across the desk. “They all seem like they’ll fit into the mold well.” Lips pursed, however, at the mention of fire, and that was his tell. His grandfather probably knew that by now. “It did burn down, yes. Accident. I put her in one of the condos because I think she is a very important asset to us, one that we can’t simply leave to her own devices.” Andrew became a different person around Wayne -- well-spoken, thoughtful, business-like. Nothing like the man that Bee saw unless she peeled away at the surface. Wayne didn’t bother to reply to Andrew’s observation. Of course they fit the mold. He’d picked them after all. It was nice to see that his grandson was behaving the way he was supposed to but there was a dark thought in his mind that perhaps it was more of an act than behaving appropriately. No, Andrew would not betray him the way his father did. Wayne wouldn’t bet his life on that, not ever, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it. The fact that Andrew’s lips pursed did nothing to ease him. “That is an interesting choice of words. Are you worried about her siblings? Or that man she’s been seen with?” This was a test of sorts. It was important to keep tabs on their employees and that was what Maren was. Had Andrew been slacking more than Wayne thought? “I--” Truthfully, Andrew hadn’t looked much into Maren’s background since he had met her. He trusted his grandfather’s judgement and all her other recommendations. Her credentials seemed flawless, her past untainted, but maybe he should have delved deeper. Should have come up with everything that there was to know about Maren. He had a general sense, of course, but he hardly kept up. No, he trusted her enough. Mistake on his part, he supposed. “I suppose the guy would be the biggest worry. I was more thinking about...any sort of rivals that might get their hands on her, sir. She did take care of a lot of the Delanos during the sweep.” That sounded credible, right? Andrew knew he fucked up big time, but maybe Wayne wouldn’t realize it. Yeah, right. While Wayne could appreciate Andrew’s trust in him, he’d raised the boy to question everything and to be responsible enough to know the people he was hiring. Maren was one employee of many, hardly one that deserved the trust of a Mumford. “He would be. The siblings would be useful in keeping her in line, but otherwise they pose no threat. Well, save for her oldest brother but I’m hardly worried.” A boy in the CIA’s pocket was nothing but a minor annoyance at best and Wayne had far bigger fish to fry. Namely, a rival’s mistress that had recently moved to Vegas. How fortuitous for him. “I think you’ve begun to forget one very important fact, Andrew. She is expendable. If the Delanos take care of her, it just saves me from having to do so.” He sighed heavily and sat up straighter in his chair. “I taught you better than this Andrew. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.” Wayne left it at that, wondering if his grandson would choose to comment or sit silently, waiting for dismissal. It was becoming clearly by the moment, however, that his presence here was long overdue. Andrew sighed and reached his fingers to press them in his eyes. He knew that he had royally screwed up with all of this. He should have been on more on the ball, should have looked into all of this further, shouldn’t have relied just on trust or some sense of faith. There was no room for humanity in their type of business. His grandfather had tried to inundate him with those lessons from a young age, but Andrew was so human to a fault at times that it got in his way. He created connections that Wayne Mumford never would approve of, and that was his fault. He would have to work on that more. “I know, sir,” was all he said, defeated and quiet and not making eye contact. It was abundantly clear that he was needed in Las Vegas. Wayne was actually rather surprised that things hadn't gotten too fucked up given the lack of any sense in his grandson. Well. Wayne wouldn't let him go the same way as his son. This would be taken care of immediately, though what he'd do to Maren to make an example out of her, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it would be time to test her and if she succeeded, well that was good for business. If she didn't, he could justify killing her to Andrew. He could see it now, the barrel of his gun between her eyes and Andrew right next to him. Yes, this was something that needed to be orchestrated and soon. "You're better than this, Andrew. You would do well to remember that. That will be all for now." |