Feeling the Way, CH 05 (Patreon)

From Trois-Rivieres, it was the 40 all the way to Quebec City; took me just under an hour to reach it. I was not expected, so I detour through Old Quebec City. Last time I was here, fifteen years ago, I ditched my family to explore it. My fathers had meetings they were already three days late for, and my brothers had enough guys to have sex with that it wasn’t until after all the meetings were done my absence was noticed.

I like old cities the way I like guys I can connect with. Get your mind out of that gutter, it’s a city, not a guy. I just mean that there’s an emotional undercurrent in old buildings. That’s not an empathy thing, it’s a history thing. So much happened and in cities that take care of their older parts, you can see in on the walls, on the streets, and Quebec City is quite proud of its past.

When they found me, my fathers were livid. They were afraid I’d been taken. It never happened, but my family has enough enemies, it’s always a concern.

Now, the downside with having seven fathers is that it’s utterly impossible to make them all happy; the fact they don’t like each other all that much doesn’t help. If I go out of my way to make one happy, it almost ensures another will be pissed about it.

The upside is that it’s always possible to make at least one of them happy and have him take my side. That time, I pointed out the historical art restoration, which got Albert siding with me. I managed to inject the musical history in the conversation, and Aiden was going along with it. He’s always interested in music he’s never heard of, and Quebec musicians don’t make it all the way to the west coast unless they abandon their French Root.

Look up Celine Dion’s last forty years to get a sense of what I mean.

Two of them was enough to ensure my punishment was bearable. Another note. My fathers have never hit me, which might seem counter-intuitive considering how often they hit one another, but they were raised by violent men, and it’s one of the few things they all agree on. We would never experience that. The closest we get is if we piss off Aaron or Arnold, they drag us into a particularly intense sparring match where I can give as hard as I receive.

I spent four hours walking the narrow old streets, joined an ongoing tour and explored wartime tunnels; me and a guy might have gotten sidetracked in there. Afterward we had a mid-afternoon meal at Légende; I paid.

Then I headed to my destination, Le Château Frontenac.

If you are someone who enjoys historical architecture, you have to see this place at least once in your life. If you can afford it, I’d even recommend spending a night there. They did a full restoration in 2053 taking it down to the stonework, repairing it and reconstructing it, making sure nothing modern was apparent. Stepping in is like going back to the late 19th century.

The Château is a hotel, a luxury one, but it’s also the home base for the Carbonneau family. They took it over in 2053, and they are behind the renovations. It’s also the year they took over the province, although even now they keep that quiet.

I parked my motorcycle under the Château, locked it, and rode the elevator to the lobby. The elevator was designed to look liked a metal cage, but the ride was smooth. The lobby was large, all polished marble, brass, and rich woods. The carpets looked old from being walked on so much, but it just added to the air of authenticity.

The clerk behind the black marble counter was a hare, and she smiled at me as I stepped to it. “Welcome to the Château Frontenac, what is the name on the reservation?”

I smiled back. This was where I needed to be careful since I was not expected. “Could you tell me if Mister Rene Carboneau is in his room?”

Her smile didn’t change. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not allowed to divulge that information.”

No showing up unannounced then. In spite of the trouble it would cause, it was my preferred method when dealing with Society families. It ensured they saw me, instead of ignoring my presence.

“Can you let him know that Wyatt Orr is here to see him? I’ll be in the 1608.” I didn’t wait for her response, hoping that stating I’ll wait in the Château’s bar will signal I’m not going to tolerate an indefinite wait. I may not be expected, but I’m still an Orr.

I sat at the bar and brought up the list of available beers on my phone. I ordered something local, and I took my time with it, which was easy. Arnold made sure me and my brothers knew how to appreciate beer, how to take in the aromas, enjoy the nuances in the flavors. Being just about unable to get drunk on beer makes appreciating that the only reasons to drink, which is good for everyone around me. I am not a pleasant drunk. Drunkenness and depression don’t mix well.

It was a long three hours before the rabbit showed up. Three hours of slowly drinking alone. For as beautiful as the Château was, at fifteen dollar for the cheapest beer, it didn’t attract my kind of crowd. I don’t mind the rich businessman or the son of a wealthy family. A guy’s a guy, and I will talk with any of them, because I never know where the one I’ll connect with will be/ they are the ones who mind me.

I don’t dress the way I should. My jeans are in good condition, but they’re worn. I don’t have a tie, or a cravat, or a bolo. My jacket is old. It was a gift from Paul, and I get it repaired rather than replace it. I don’t look the rich socialite they crave. On bad days, I give serious consideration to dressing the part, of being one of them, just so they’ll pay attention to me, instead of their gaze drifting over me like I’m invisible. 

To be one of the visible elite, rather than the ignored one. To walk among the rarified air they seem to enjoy. To not just know I’m special, but to be treated as such. To have the guys falling into my bed because they want to touch what I am.

It never lasts. If I did it, it would be an act, and in my family, pretension never survives. I’m not saying none of us can be that kind of rich, Aiden can wear a suit like no one else, but that’s what he prefers over anything other than being naked. But I’m a jeans, shirt and jacket kind of guy. I’ll wear a suit if the situation requires, but I’ll never be the kind of man who is at ease in one.

The rabbit was in a suit. But his attitude marked him as security, not socialite. He looked the room over and I could tell he was evaluating everyone. When his gaze fell on me, it didn’t drift past. It stopped. He stiffened, tightens his lips. I am an Orr, I never bring good news.

Or at least that’s the stories running around.

The last time one of us caused problems on a Society level was what, seven, eight years ago? But that’s all it takes, and everyone’s reminded that back in the days we were crazy enough to take on the Church and kick them out of our city, along with one of their precious family. That one of ours took over the Church and went to war with the Society. With that kind of history, no one really wants us around, but they’re too scared of us to tell us that to our face.

“Mister Orr,” the rabbit said in English, “If you’ll come with me, Elder Carbonneau will see you now.”

One thing I can say about being feared, it makes others respect you. I’m not one to demand respect, but I’ll definitely take it when it’s offered, no matter the reason. 

“Lead the way,” I answered in French. And I’ll return it.

The rabbit led me to an elevator where, instead of punching a floor, he used a keycard and entered a code using the floor buttons. I didn’t look.

Unknown to the public, there are three hidden floors within the Château; one of the things the Carbonneau family made happen during the renovations. 

When we stepped onto the first of those floors, there was no indication we’re inside a hotel. The floor was loud with kids running down the hall, the smell of sex was thick and with it something spicy, I identified as Tourtière when we walk by the open kitchen.

You ever come to Quebec, you have to have Tourtière.

This was the Carbonneau home. 

Like every Society family, they have members spread around the world, but the Carbonneau are among the more insular of the families, after the events in the late twenties, those in the late forties and the war with the Church, they’re also somewhat paranoid about protecting their lineage, so the Château is the Carbonneau fortress. They aren’t as extreme as the Lewistons, they don’t force every member back to raise their sons, but they do encourage it.

I got stared at by the youngest, there might even have been a bit of fear in their eyes, which made me wonder just what kind of stories they learned about my family, or was it just a general fear of strangers. The older ones projected defiance. They wouldn’t let me see how scared they were of me. The ones older than them, of sexual age, eyed me with a mix of concern and desire.

I am a very good looking specimen of a tiger, and stories of how dangerous we are just makes us more desirable. I do soak it in, I’d be an idiot not to.

We went up large stairs. Only the bottom floor was accessible by elevator. It was also the one where all the security resided. 

Don’t let the kids fool you. They know to get into the rooms the instant the alarm sounds. The walls and doors are reinforced. The day some idiot tries to invade this fortress, I want a front-row seat and a bag of popcorn, because it’s going to be one cock raising of a show.

We stopped by the double doors and my escort spoke quietly with one of the guards there, got us cleared and we entered Elder Carbonneau’s inner sanctum.

It was a mix of an office, a lounge and a bedroom. It followed the theme of the Château with white marble floors, Persian carpets marking the various areas in the room. The walls were some redwood I couldn’t identify. I do have my limits; I’m not an actual architect after all.

Variations on this was common among elders. 

Sex is part of who the Society is, and is integrated in how business is conducted, so don’t be surprised if I don’t tell you about the entirety of this meeting.

Rene Carbonneau was in his sixties, a gray rabbit with some black around the eyes and ears. He worea sleeveless silk kimono that showed his muscular arms. It was open so I could also see his pecs, defined under the short fur. He was a good looking man.

All men within the Society are good looking and in good health. They might not match your personal tastes, but we do take care of ourselves. Sex is great exercise and because it’s a mark of honor to our god, we tend to be the active one when we do it.

He sat behind his antique looking desk, a darker wood with silver inlay, reading a tablet, which indicated the desk might be an actual antique. Everything recent had interactive surfaces.

Behind him was a younger, in his early forties; rabbit with similar gray fur, but the black was on his neck and muzzle, and there was brown splotches on his hands, which he held clasped before him. He wore a gray suit a shade darker than their fur. His lips tightened when I entered. He wasn’t happy I was here. So very few men in the Society ever are.

Rene finished his reading, typed something, then set the tablet aside to look at me. His expression was impassive, that of a man who’d been in so many negotiations he’d gotten control of each and every muscle in his features to avoid giving anything away. 

Being more in tune than most, I can see his annoyance, but there is no dislike. The interruption, not me, caused the annoyance.

I inclined my head in the stretching silence. “Elder Carbonneau, I am Wyatt Orr.”

The rabbit studied me before answering. “I am aware of who you are, Mister Orr. You speak for your family.”

That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I have more leeway than my brothers when it comes to making decisions involving other families because I can do what most of them can’t; that is, actually interact with them without starting wars. But if I don’t run the big decisions by my fathers, I could pay for it.

“I am more of an intermediary, Elder.”

Rene stood and his kimono opened as he stepped before the desk.

You might think this is a power move, to try to unnerve me, but within the Society that’s basically the equivalent of a handshake. Nakedness is normal for us. That doesn’t mean I didn’t smile in appreciation at what I saw. Rene Carbonneau is definitely a good looking man.

“Then tell me, Mister Orr, what is it the Carbonneau family can do for you.”

My eyes flicked to the low bed while I kept my mouth from voicing the accompanying desire. In the process, the words registered, and I realized this might not be what I thought it was. If the Elder of the family didn’t know someone had reached out to me…

I sighed. “Can you indulge me for a moment?” I asked, taking out my phone.

Rene nodded.

I brought up the number and called it. I was not looking forward to— The other rabbit’s phone rang, and he hurried to silence it. At the same time, I heard the ‘the call did not connect’ signal in my ear. The rabbit looked at me fearfully.

Please, oh please tell me he wasn’t trying to drag my family into some internal family feud.

Rene noticed me looking at the rabbit and saw the fear on his face. “Francois,” the elder said. “What is the meaning of this?”

I put my phone away and looked at the door I’d come in through. This, I didn’t want to be present for. It’s one thing to watch outsiders being decimated. Watching an elder lose it on a family member was not something I wanted to witness.

“Stay, if you please,” Rene told me.

I did not please, but that was just a polite way of ordering me to stay.

“Francois,” Rene said again, his tone darker. “Did you call the Orrs without my approval?”

Francois bit his lower lip. “We can’t do this without help, father.”

I relaxed. This wasn’t a coup. They weren’t common within families, but they did happen.

“You don’t have confidence in your own family, Francois?”

“That’s not about that, father. The MacDonald have always opposed our independence. Anytime we have pushed for it, they were there to ensure we would fail. They have the rest of Canada supporting them. Who do we have? The Mercier and the Dumier have both said they wouldn’t step into this.”

“So you’d turn to the Orr? They are no more francophone than the rest of this country.” Belatedly Rene turned to me. “I mean no offense.”

Sure you don’t, old man.

“But they are feared,” Francois replied. 

Fear does come in handy at times.

Rene sighed. “This isn’t how I do things, Francois; you know this. You had no right disturbing them.”

“If I may,” I said, figuring Francois could use some slack on his rope. “Francois didn’t actually ask me to come. He didn’t leave a message. I thought it was too sensitive for one, which is why I came.”

“It is indeed sensitive,” Rene said, “But Francois should not have even made the call without telling me first.”

“You wouldn’t have let me, father.”

“We do not need another family’s charity!”

I snorted and got glared at. I deserved that, but really. “Since when does my family do charity?”

“See father, it—” Francois stopped as the glare turned on him.

Rene closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

“Maybe you can tell me what you’re looking to do. Francois mentioned independence, but I think it’s been established that you can’t break from Canada.”

Rene waved it aside. “I have no interest in breaking from the country, for all the problems Ontario causes us, there is a balance.”

One you just love to rock.

“What I am looking to do is assume control of Quebec.”

“I thought you already did. You have family members in the Premier’s office, I was under the impression she did nothing without your approval.”

He waved that aside, too. “I run things behind the scene, it is slow, ineffectual on the important things. And Premier Longueuil is not as obedient as she likes me to believe. She has her own plans and believes she is using me to achieve them. I am tired of playing games, but Douglas keeps interfering. If I make Quebec my province officially, he will have to stop.”

“And what would you expect my family to do?”

Rene considered my question, then looked at Francois. “Well, son, did you think this through, or did you just hope I would have all the answers?”

Francois looked taken aback. “I… I figured that if they announce they support your plan, it would be enough. No one will want to antagonized them.”

I shook my head. “My grandfather’s generation, and anyone before them, maybe. My fathers are being careful to cultivate a more controlled aggressiveness. We have not been the aggressor in decades. Even the Tucson incident was a response to us being attacked. If my fathers agree to support you, they will have to act on your behalf, not simply have me sit on meetings and look threatening.”

“I see,” Rene said. “And would they be willing to, even if it required them to take action?”

I smiled at the rabbit and crossed my arms over my chest. “That depends entirely on what’s in it for us.”