Nicebomber by Charles Colleen

Author:Charles, Colleen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Shane

“Do nice things for people, they said. Film it, they said. Become a better person, they said. That ‘shit’ is a ‘fucking’ bunch of rubbish.”

“It’s only rubbish because that’s what you’re making it.”

My father lets the words hang in the air in his office for a few moments like cigar smoke, then repeats them, adding long spaces between each one. “A little magnanimity. That was it, Shane. That was all. That was the only thing you were asked to do in order to prove yourself worthy of my name and of your place on this company's board. Do. Nice. Things. For. People.”

He glowers at me, clearly expecting some sort of contrite response so I swallow down the stream of curses I want to toss in his general direction. Whatever happened to support? To unconditional love?

“I know.” What else am I supposed to say? He's just waiting to hear himself talk again anyway.

“I didn't even expect you to come up with the nice things yourself. I actually hired someone else to think of them for you. I honestly didn't think it was much to ask of my only child to honor his mother’s memory. I didn't think it would require any actual effort or be so subject to failure and humiliation. If I had, frankly, I wouldn't have bothered. I would have assigned this simple task to someone else. I could have given it to Jerome Feingold, who labors sixty hours a week at the support desk in the payroll department, never makes a mistake in his work, and still manages to coach his son's Little League team. I bet he'd have done a bang-up job.”

I picture my father rehearsing this speech in the mirror this morning while shaving and selecting his power tie of the day and feel a wave of nausea.

“Or I could have assigned it to Bob McKinley in marketing. You know Bob? Of course you don't, because you never actually come in to work. Well, Bob comes in at least two hours early every day, and never, ever leaves until his desk has been cleared of every single task. Bob has dedicated his life to building and maintaining a respectable face for this company, and when he's not doing that, he's a deacon at his local church. Bob could have easily pulled off something like this, and we'd have come out smelling like a rose. But no. For some idiotic reason, I thought my son deserved a chance to show he could actually accomplish something in this world. And would you like to see the results of that decision?”

No. “Yes.”

Dad clicks one of the keys on his computer and swivels the screen, so it faces me. That viral video pops up from the visit to the hospital—a loop of all the kids screaming “Bullshit! Bullshit!” over and over, with the words “Bullshit! Bullshit!” dancing merrily above them in neon lettering and several poo emojis blinking back and forth. And then the headline that makes me cringe.

Cupbrella CEO’s son puts his foot in… bullsh*t.

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