Winston picked up where he’d left off, before Fawn had bursted out her rant, interrupting him.

“Mr. Gustafson, I have done my job.  I followed your explicit instructions.  I spoke to the District Attorney and she agreed to drop the charges.  After our discussion, she spoke to the arresting officer, and she assured me that as far as she is concerned, this incident never occurred."

Morpheus glared at him and he predictably restrained his bite, mainly because Mikita was present.  They were living together and she’d accepted his engagement ring.  He made a point to look in her direction and his expression had been apologetic.  Mikita rose, because she understood that parenthood was a lifetime job; from the womb to the grave, and as Fawn had pointedly stated on numerous occasions--she wasn’t her mother.  Therefore, she didn’t belong here and as such, she would leave, allowing Morpheus to manage yet another crisis in which Fawn had been the instigator.

Mikita crossed the floor, and when she stood by his side, he touched her elbow lightly, prompting her to come closer.  She turned her back to the others in the room, to share a private word.

She spoke low when she said...

“Honey--I think I should leave.”

“No--please babe; stay.  I want you too.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.  You handle this, and I’ll wait for you in our bedroom.  We can say our goodbyes there in private.”

Morpheus had planned to leave earlier, but he’d delayed his departure after getting word from Winston.  Now, here he was knee deep, wading through his daughters shit; as usual.  When he looked at Mikita, the past few months rushed across his mind.  When Mikita had invited him to remain in Bermuda, he’d planned for an extended stay, and they had not expected the fast decline of her mothers health.  By the second week Ernestine could barely sit on the side of her bed.  Then a few days later, she had said that she was tired and wanted to take a nap; Morpheus had gone to her room to check on her, only to find that she’d slipped away, saving her daughter the pain of watching her mother die a slow and painful death.  For days, Mikita had been inconsolable, and seeing her now, he knew that she still missed her mother, but everyday she would say how happy she was to be with him, sharing his home.  She was happy, and the only thing that would make her happier would be to see him and their son, finally behaving as if they were indeed a true family.  He lowered his head, pressing his lips on Mikita’s and he didn’t give a damn that it made his daughter uncomfortable witnessing this.  When Mikita pulled away, he felt her slight stumble and he smirked because his kiss had been to blame for her unsteadiness.  There were segments of his life that Mikita couldn’t be involved in; issues that have absolutely nothing to do with business.   Even though she knew certain things about him he couldn’t tell her where he was going or what this trip was about.

Mikita smiled at him and he returned her’s with one of his own, then she left the room.  As their distance grew, his anger towards his daughter gained in momentum.  Because of Fawn, she had fucked up his entire day.

Morpheus maintained a wide stance, directing his statement at Winston.

He said...

"It sounds to me like the district attorney has trashed the charges--and that's exactly what I wanted to happen.  But I guess there must be more to this because you're standing in my house.  So--what's the problem Winston?"

Winston Dubois was a brilliant man and he knew a trap when he saw one.  And this most definitely was a trap.  The worst kind of trap.  A Morpheus Gustafson trap.  The wise attorney employed one of his courtroom tactics.  He flipped the question back to his employer.

"What's the problem indeed.  You see sir, as I've said; I did my job, but your daughter doesn't seem to agree."

"Spit it out man"

Morpheus had had enough of this game and when his attorney smiled, he clearly heard 'gotcha' wailing in his head, because the focus was no longer aimed at Winston.  Now, he would be learning something about Fawn, and that she was the problem, and not his attorney.

Winston said...

"There was a restraining order...and your daughter refuses to sign off on the document.  The D.A. bent over backwards completely ignoring the police report and the assault charges--mainly because Fawn's offenses towards the police officers occurred when she turned on them and resisted their arrest.  I spoke with the security guards at the art gallery; gave each of them their asking price and they signed documents affectively swearing never to seek legal or monetary actions for her assaults on them.  As for the owner of the art gallery, we've agreed to allow the insurance company to name their price, after the damages have been assessed.  However; until that occurs, a reasonable amount was advanced to begin repairs in the gallery.  However, as for Judd Marko--the D.A. spoke with him--and he isn't budging.  He won't change his mind and he won't recant his statements.  He insisted that the restraining order be put in place.  And in plain English sir, that leaves your daughter with no other options.  She has no other choice in this matter.  She must acknowledge the order."

"I don't understand.  Why is it so important that she sign the damn thing?  I thought that she just has to know that an order of protection exist."

"Well--yes, in general, that is correct.  However, Morpheus...I didn't explain the events that preceded her run-in with the officers.  Your daughter practically demolished every piece of artwork at Claudette Tautou Gallery.  She did this in front of a crowd of people, and it took hours to confiscate camera’s and every other recording device.  Then there was the damage to consider--as well as the other artist.  I am no expert sir, but when I totaled the cost in my head, the figure is well over eight million dollars in damages.  More to the point--she destroyed every sculpture created by Judd Marko.  And as I said sir--you needn’t worry on that account because I've taken care of that.  However--when I explained to the D.A. that I have assured all parties involved that they will be reimbursed for their losses--this explanation wasn't enough to satisfy the D.A..  You see--too many people were involved--and well, we are coming up on an election year.  In other words, her manipulation stops with the arresting officers.  She won’t consider strong-arming Judd to back off and since the restraining order isn't going away, the D.A. wants certain assurances."

Morpheus thought about his war-chest, filled with secrets and lies.  He briefly considered Amanda Levi, and the day she’d been sworn in as the District Attorney.  What did he have on her--and was he prepared to use it.

Morpheus narrowed his eyes when he said...

"Okay...it sounds to me like Amanda is covering her ass.  Now--what’s our next move."

Winston said...

"I'm sorry sir...but--nothing comes next; and the D.A. made that clear to me.  This is one stipulation that I cannot make go away.  And sir, well...Fawn--she refuses to bow to this particular will of justice."

“Is that what you call justice?  I’d call it blackmail”

Morpheus closed his eyes because he understood the ramifications of print and signatures.  Signed documents had a life of their own, and no one knew better than him.  He could visualize the D.A. salivating, knowing that she has proof locked away in her desk, stating that Morpheus Gustafson’s daughter had destroyed artwork and she stalked a man, who had no other choice except to take out a restraining order on her.

Morpheus slammed his fist on his desk, then he bellowed...

“What assurances do I have that this restraining order won’t be made public?  Hell...for all I know, if the press get their hands on that--then the whole story comes out, defeating the purpose of the millions I’ve paid to cover it up.”