THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 15

 Toronto. Wednesday, June 30, 1982.

Now fourteen, Phillip's cheeks and chin sported peach fuzz and pimples, trophies of the transition into manhood. To give him spending money and to keep him out of shopping malls, Mike had given him a summer job with his company, XG Petroleums. His responsibility was to pump gasoline at one of XG's serviced retail outlets in Scarborough, a Toronto suburb.

Three days after Phillip started to work, Mike received a telephone call from his very excited manager. "Mister King, it's Terry Morgan. Sorry to bother you. I just had to call. Your son was supposed to be here at seven this morning. He's still not here. I'm going to have to call someone else."

Mike glanced at his watch. It was nine fifteen. "I'm glad you called, Terry. Go ahead and get a replacement, but call me if Phillip shows up."

"I hope you weren't talking about Phillip," Karen said as she entered the room.

"Unfortunately we were," Mike replied with a disappointed frown. "He was a no-show this morning. The second he shows up here, we're going to have a nice little chat, and this time I'll take the gloves off. I'm going to get through to that kid, one way or another."

Mike approached Phillip when he returned to the apartment at six P. M. "Hard day at work?" he asked.

Using his foot to remove his shoes while they were still tied, Phillip nodded. "Yup," he said, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

Mike placed his hands on his hips and glared at Phillip. "What did you work at? Terry Morgan called at nine-fifteen this morning. He said you weren't there."

"I was late."

"I asked him to call me when you showed up. He didn't call. Now don't lie to me again. Where were you today?"

Phillip hung his head. "Hangin' out with my friends," he admitted.

"Where?"

"At the mall, mostly."

Mike struggled to restrain his anger. He knew venting it would help him, but not Phillip. "Put your shoes back on," he demanded. "You and I are going for a walk."

Annoyed, Phillip wiggled both feet into his shoes, then reluctantly followed Mike to the sidewalk.

"Let's go," Mike said, then turned and began to walk at a brisk pace. Phillip was forced to trot to keep up. When he did catch up, Mike began to run and continued to run until Phillip stumbled and fell to the pavement, exhausted and unable to run further. "What's the problem, son?" Mike chided. "Can't keep up with an old man?"

Phillip's face was beet red and contorted with anger and frustration as he jumped to his feet and continued to run. Mike quickly outdistanced him, but when he noticed Phillip had quit the race, he turned and hurried back. "I wanted you to run this little race for a reason," he said, placing his hands on Phillip's shoulders. "I want you to understand that you're living in a very competitive world. If you don't prepare yourself to compete in it, you'll never make it. I have to assume you want to be more than a shiftless mall-rat." Mike turned and walked away.

"I promise I'll work," Phillip shouted when Mike had distanced himself by fifty feet.

"Talk's cheep, son. Show me," Mike said, continuing his walk.

Phillip nodded. "But I really don't like school."

Mike stopped and turned to face Phillip, encouraged that he might be making some progress. "I didn't like it either, until I discovered the more I put into it, the more I got out of it. So far you've put very little into it. It's no wonder you don't like it."