It’s a horrid feeling, to have so much in common with expensive luggage that’s been passed down through generations. Papa made them take me everywhere and I could tell how much they resented it. I had bad asthma and they’d mock me relentlessly for the wheezing, the “overdramatic” desperation I’d exhibit to find my inhaler. They picked on me for being so short and small. My heart weeps even as I say this, but every time I was in the same room with them, I was afraid. And my sisters…Well, I suppose it’s a bit ironic now that I think about it. I had no talent for oratory and the moment all eyes were on me, I’d freeze up with the most terrifying heart palpitations.ĭon’t get me wrong, I loved my family. At some point, I suppose I just got lost somewhere in the back and I didn’t mind. It goes without saying, my own candle paled in comparison. That is, unless you have six big brothers and three older sisters, all more outgoing and impressive than yourself. Even in complete silence, I hear it in my head. I must have rehearsed it a thousand times. It’s all about the timing in his works and the one thing I appreciated the most was the risk he took by trying something new and, dare I say, awkward. I began playing the piano when I was about five or six, and to date, I’ve mastered all of Chopin’s compositions. My mother and our nannies came from Surrey, hence the accent I inherited. Despite all that, I was groomed to be a classical composer. Having grown up in the halls of Papa’s corporate offices, I was exposed to the high stakes of million dollar hedge fund investments. In New York City some years ago, I was but a budding flower, having just graduated from Elysium with a 4.0 grade average and an avid interest in finance. I suppose even now, I find it difficult to denigrate them. Perhaps by becoming one of them, I thought I could soak in but an ounce of their charisma, their strength. Every single one of them has this overpowering presence by which you can’t help but wonder if they came fresh from leading entire legions on the battlefield. You have to understand, I was never a full-fledged member of the Society. The coward called it off but we still had the tapes. There were recordings of the partner hiring a hitman years ago. His business partner, just as corrupt as he, was our patsy. So his hotel room was staged to look like a break in. A death shrouded in mystery would only inflate his infamy. I didn’t feel anything…other than the smooth friction of my knife sliding across his neck. I wasn’t reluctant nor did I hesitate or have any second thoughts. “The first kill is always the hardest,” they say. At the same time, it made him an easier target for those who weren’t bound by silly things like laws or ethics. That his execution didn’t come sooner, I think, emboldened his god-like complex. Everyone knew he dabbled in narcotics and every so often, he’d had to get rid of his limos because no matter what they did they couldn’t get the stench of marijuana out of the seats. Rumor has it she was pregnant with his child and as a result, her body was stuffed in a barrel down in the basement. Of course, this mistress hasn’t been seen for some time. He aided in human trafficking and had the nerve to call for stricter immigration laws when one of his mistresses threatened to go public. On top of all that, Chrysler had dealings with the Bratva. And in spite of widespread protests, solidarity from the academia damn-near screaming for his resignation, this unsavory fellow managed to stay in office.
Instead, Chrysler had the gumption to stand by his words.
Never chalked it up to a gaffe or a slip of the tongue. Two years ago, his name dominated headlines after he declared in Parliament that women had no place in politics. He was once caught on camera literally stripping the clothes off of a reporter in an elevator while he was high on coke. His dossier came replete with sexual assaults, everything from rape, torture, and murder. He was as corrupt as they come and thought himself untouchable. Not a good man at all.Īs it was, I knew Sen. Chrysler, a despicable bully who had a penchant for strong-arming his proposals through city hall.
Now there was once a certain senator who was known to frequent clubs and popular spots in Uptown Toronto. Artwork by Guweiz Gladys Vandelay – The Protégé
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