Chapter Text
“Are you going to linger in the doorway all night or do we all have to freeze to death!?”
“Calm down, woman! I’m almost there!”
Max shunted his feet a few times on the welcome mat, watching as the snow jumped from the tips of his boots to melt slowly on the ground under him. He complied with Jessica’s request and closed the front door. The relief was almost immediate as the chill of the air outside ceased to pinch at his nose and cheeks. Waddling his way into the house, Max toed off his shoes before catching a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror. He looked more like Nanook of the North than he ever cared to, but he’d never been one for the bitterness of winter. He thought maybe his military service had put him off for life. Memories of sleeping outdoors in thin tents haunted his mind. Shivering under bushes and trudging through freezing lakes. Just thinking about it made an unconscious shiver trail up his spine. It was then that he concluded that every item of clothing, however ridiculous looking, was an absolute necessity.
It was edging ever closer to Christmas and New York was just too damn cold. Everywhere he stepped, what was meant to be fluffy white snow had dissolved into slush, and Max had almost slipped over twice on the way home. However, it seemed as though the Christmas cheer had made its way into the hearts of the city folk, even if those very same hearts could be as cold as the weather around them. Apparently, there was no mercy when you took too long at the station turnstile.
He removed his hat and gloves, and placed them neatly in the cubby hole upon Jessica’s firm instructions. She had been on a rampage about the state of their house for a week now, doing chores twice as loudly as necessary just to get her point across. The last thing Max wanted tonight was to invoke his wife’s wrath. After finally hanging up his thick coat, he made his way to the kitchen, where his dear Jessica was stood over a large pot of something or other simmering away on the stove. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing. She was always the most excellent cook. Her mother was the same. Max took a moment to just look her up and down appreciatively. It was no secret his wife was beautiful. Dressed to the nines, she was like a gorgeous Greek statue. Even though Max loved her like that, it was like this where he loved her the most. With her makeup looking an absolute state, messy hair thrown into a low ponytail and dressed in the well-worn sweats she had owned since Michael was born. She was truly something else. All that and the personality to go with it. Max considered himself one lucky, lucky bastard.
He trudged up behind her to encircle her waist and plant a small kiss on the crown of her head. She responded by giving his hand a comforting squeeze.
“How was work?” She asked. Behind her, Max shrugged, a small but smug smirk making its way onto his face.
“Pretty normal, I suppose. Week eleven of being a New York Times best-selling author and watching as senators curse my name in the press.” Jessica sharply thwacked his hand with her wooden spoon.
“Ow! Hey!” She whipped around to face him.
“You keep saying things like that as if it’s something to be proud of!” Max dramatically nursed his sore hand and rolled his eyes. He took a step back to cockily lean a hip on the counter.
“Tell me here and now that they don’t deserve it. That the world doesn’t deserve to know. Say the word and I’ll stop bragging.” Max crossed his arms over his chest and Jessica’s face morphed into an expression of disapproval. In his heart of hearts, however, Max knew that she agreed with him deep down. Even if the trouble it caused sometimes seemed more than it was worth. Confident he was in the clear, Max threw an arm around his wife and propped his other hand on his hip.
“Not every woman can say their dear hubby just exposed one of the biggest drug scandals in US history, outed the US Senate in being complicit in aforementioned scandal, and unveiled a separate child abuse scandal. All that and having a documentary crew follow up on it all. We’re going far, kid!” Jessica shook her head and rolled her eyes, but Max could see the smile underneath her exasperation.
“Not many women can say their husbands also run headfirst into gunfire with teenagers like they don’t have a wife and son!” Max leaned in closer to take her hips in his hands.
“Well if you want to be technical, I didn’t have a wife then!” Jessica shakes her head again, and Max leans forward to peck her lips softly.
“I love you, you oaf.” She whispered.
“I love you too.” He replied.
“Now, will you let me get back to cooking before this takes all night!”
Max pulled away with a smile and rummaged around for his phone, which had been hastily stuffed into his back pocket after he got off the train. 47 emails. He groaned internally. He hasn’t even been away for that long. He must have left the office only twenty minutes ago! He supposed this was a small price to pay for his success.
For exposing Banana Fish and everything involved.
For years, Max had been unsatisfied that the truth had not been revealed in its entirety. Every night he tossed and turned thinking about what could have been. If all the evidence had never been lost. One day, at about three in the morning, it all got too much to keep in. So, he thought it only natural, as a journalist, to write it all down. To get it all out of his head. As he continued to write, the more things began to make sense. The more pieces slotted into place even without the necessary evidence. He recounted every place he went, every person he met, and charted what was put into the public domain. It all came together within a matter of months. Although he didn’t have the evidence to prove Banana Fish existed as a drug, he had everything that surrounded it. It was like tracing a shockwave back to the origin of the explosion with the knowledge that, had the bomb not been placed, the fallout would never have happened.
Max knew his book, once published, would cause uproar amongst various government officials. He had spent weeks preparing to protect himself and his family from what would surely be a media onslaught. What he hadn’t expected though, was for so many ordinary people to pick up his book. So much so, it became a cult phenomenon. At first it was just political analysts and big wig businessmen divulging into its pages. Then it was congressmen. Before Max knew it, everyone was talking about Banana Fish.
It blew up so much that Senators could not simply brush it off as a mere conspiracy theory. Especially when his accounts had been backed up by various, and oftentimes dubious sources. Ex-members of New York’s criminal underworld came forward to confirm their involvement. Tycoons operating in Asia issued statements regarding the reality of what the US government had been planning in collusions with the Corsican Mafia. Max suspected their comments were more for propaganda against the US than anything else, but it still helped his case. However, there was one anonymous source that sealed the deal for the legitimacy of his book. An unknown person, who was assumed to be a Russian defector. A person who had published their own reports on the activities of the Kremlin before the dissolution of the Soviet Union. His reports had recounted, in detail, the staged assassinations that were written off as criminal doings. The person had come forward and wholeheartedly confirmed that everything written in ‘Banana Fish’ was absolute truth. Max had his inkling as to who it could be.
The New York Times had said the book would ‘shake the very foundations of the White House’, the American Journal of Political Science called Banana Fish ‘a scandal enough for three lifetimes’. The White House, unsurprisingly, had yet to make a statement.
Suddenly, his book and Banana Fish were everywhere. People were discussing Banana Fish on the streets, reporters came to interview him, and documentary crews were begging for his comments. It should have been far less surreal than it actually was, and yet Max still had to pinch himself when he remembered that people knew about what he and so many people had gone through thanks to that drug.
When he had started to write his book, he hoped that there would finally be some comeuppance for those whose involvement was overlooked by the White House hearing a few years ago. Something for those who thought their actions would go undetected or overlooked. Those who thought money and power could protect them from Lady Justice’s sword. And in a way, Max had done exactly what he set out to do. But strangely enough, it wasn’t even so much the intricacies of Banana Fish as a scandal that drew people to the book.
Max tapped around on his phone and found himself reading the online reviews again. No matter how many times he looked, they all said the same thing.
The people wanted to know about Ash Lynx. The world had become enraptured by the beautiful gangster who died in the New York public library, and curious as to why he clutched a letter signed by one of New York’s most renowned photographers.
Max felt the familiar sensation of guilt well a little in his chest. He had discussed the book with Eiji before he had gone to the publisher. Eiji was an intimate part of the book. The same way it was impossible for Ash and Eiji to be apart, it was impossible to write the story of Ash without including Eiji. Max knew if he was going to publish, he had to respect Eiji’s wishes and privacy. Max went to visit him and reassured him that Eiji only had to say the word, and he wouldn’t go through with it. Max wouldn’t subject him to having to relive his heartache within the public eye. After Eiji had spent a long night thinking about it and talking to Max and Jessica about the next steps over a pizza, he had agreed to the publication. He wanted the world to finally know.
For the first few weeks, the unexpected popularity of the book became overwhelming for all of them, but especially Eiji. He couldn’t go anywhere without reporters sticking cameras and Dictaphones in his face and asking for comments about his relationship to the infamous Ash Lynx. After one particularly bad day, Max quickly issued a public statement requesting his privacy, and threatened legal action should the harassment persist. Eiji stayed at their house until the buzz had died down somewhat.
Since ‘Banana Fish’ was published, however, Max had sensed some kind of shift in Eiji. Something in his demeanour and person. He seemed to be more content. As if the restlessness inside Max also existed inside him, and with the world knowing the truth, it had finally settled. Max was surprised when Eiji had agreed to sit down to an interview with the documentary crew detailing his involvement both in the Banana Fish scandal and with Ash Lynx. Max was happy for him. It seemed, at least from the outside, that some of the scars Ash left behind were beginning to fade.
“You know, if the wind changes, your face will stay like that.” Max snapped out of his mental monologue to look up from his phone. Jessica was regarding him with that concerned gaze of hers. Max never meant to make her worry.
“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about Eiji.” Jessica turned off the hob behind her.
“All things considered; I think he’s doing really well. He seems to be opening up more to us and to himself.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Jessica smiled.
“It’s a parent thing. Now, go set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”
Max kissed her one last time, partly because he could, and partly in understanding, before he paced his way across the kitchen to the adjourning dining room. Despite the national scandal Max had caused, the revenue from book sales meant they were able to move into a bigger apartment in New York. It made life a lot easier. It was closer to the news office where Max worked writing columns, and close to Jessica’s workplace. It was close to Michael too. The move had made unanimous sense. Although, Max wasn’t sure how long it would be before he wasn’t writing columns anymore. His schedule was getting more and more full.
He made to clear the clutter that had found its way to the table. He almost got away with moving it without noticing what it actually was. When he did clock on, he groaned and blushed red to his hairline.
“Urgh, Jessica! Do your work photos have to be all over the table!?” Max sheepishly closed the open portfolio and tucked it into a nearby box.
“You leave your work all over the table, why can’t I!?” Jessica shouted back from the kitchen.
“My work isn’t so… explicit. What if Michael sees!” He could practically hear Jessica roll her eyes.
“If you think that Michael doesn’t watch or read porn then you’re deluded. His friends probably own copies of my magazine!”
Max really didn’t want to think about the probability of his son watching or reading any kind of porn. Really didn’t. Jessica called from the kitchen again.
“Besides, the magazine is doing so well! Just you watch, Sugar and Spice will overtake Playboy for sales in the next year!”
It was down to Jessica’s hard work as editor-in-chief that ‘Sugar and Spice’ went from a corner store magazine to a nationwide, and soon to be global market bestseller within the industry. Max didn’t read too much into detail, but reviewers praised the publication for artistic creativity and high-quality catering to both men and women. Despite all that, the thing that Jessica, and Max on that note, were most proud of, was the fact they were renowned for their exceptional standards of ethics. Jessica and the magazine openly campaigned and lobbied for rights for sex workers, and donated a portion of their profits every month to assisting survivors of sexual abuse and exploitation get back on their feet. Jessica herself even ran some of the group sessions on the weekends. Quite frankly, even though he blushed, Max couldn’t be prouder. Of both the magazine and his wife… Mostly his wife.
Still, it didn’t mean he always appreciated naked ladies all over his dining room table.
Max squirreled the portfolios and draft shots into another nearby storage box with ‘JESSICA WORK’ scribbled on the side with sharpie. He meandered to the cutlery draw to set out some bowls when he heard the front door click and a jet of cold air rush into the warm apartment. He set the bowls down to poke his head around the corner and see Michael standing in the hall. His heart still leapt a little every time he saw his son. Although this time, he just had to laugh. Michael didn’t cope with the cold any better than Max. He was so bundled that between his hat and scarf, only his eyes were visible. He wiped his feet on the mat and Jessica cooed to him from the kitchen in the tone she reserved only for her son.
“Michael! Close the door please, darling!” Max furrowed his brow cheekily.
“So he gets a ‘darling’ and I don’t?” Jessica set down her spoon and wasted no time in welcoming Michael home, ignoring Max entirely on the way.
“Because he’s a darling and you’re not!”
“Hey Mom!” came the mumble from underneath the layers. Jessica helped Michael shimmy out of his coat before taking him into a firm embrace. God, he was taller than she was now. Every time Max saw them hug, he couldn’t believe how tall Michael had gotten. It seemed like only yesterday he was just a scrawny little kid. His boy wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was a man now, and Max felt so, so old. Every day he could feel his midlife crisis hitting him just a little harder. Although he was yet to feel the need to buy a new car or grow a ponytail or something.
“Hey kiddo! How was rehearsal?” Max made his way over and Michael hugged his father as tightly as he did when he was a kid. It was something Max would never get tired of. Although he did groan a little when his son, strong man that he was now, squeezed a bit too hard for his old bones. Michael pulled off his hat, and both Max and Jessica laughed at his scruffy hair. Half pulled up in a band to keep it off his face, and the other half hanging loosely at chin length.
“Urgh. Long. It was the sitz probe today and I swear we were all ready to collapse by the end. I ran a costume change like, four times!”
“Well, it’s good you’re home now for some proper food.”
Jessica lead the three of them to the dining room. Behind her, Michael warmed his hands by rubbing them together quickly and blowing hot air between his palms. Jessica took their bowls one by one to serve up dinner. Max sat himself at the table with Michael to his right, as they always did. Max nudged his elbow enthusiastically.
“So! I expect this show to be great then! Shall we sit in the front row where you can see us?” Michael shook his head furiously.
“Please don’t! If I see you, I’ll get too nervous!”
Max laughed. It was always strange to him how such a shy kid turned out to be such a good performer. When he was little, Max had taken him to ballet class, and almost thought nothing of it when the instructor had told him that he had real talent. Fast forward a couple of years and Jessica was taking him to auditions for ballet school. If Max was honest, he hadn’t expected Michael to get in. It turns out he underestimated his son. He remembered them all nervously waiting for him to open the letter to tell him that he had been accepted into the New York City Ballet. And here he was. Opening in ‘The Nutcracker’ at the Koch Theatre in three weeks. When he got the part, Max had bragged to everyone he knew about it. Sent out invites to everyone he could think of. Now Michael had audience members from photographers, ex-gang members and Chinese mafia coming to see him. Max wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t wait to see his son up on the stage where he belonged.
As Jessica set a plate in front of him, Max felt a magnetic pull. A pull that directed his eyes to a seemingly innocuous photo on the wall that sat just to the side of the table.
It was a framed photo of Ash holding a young Michael. Both of them were laughing gleefully with huge grins on their faces. Michael had his tiny arms around Ash’s neck as he held him, and Ash smiled as if he never had a care in the world. He only ever smiled when Eiji took pictures.
Max felt a tug at his heartstrings. A melancholic ache.
“Pops?” Michael was looking at him with the same concerned expression he saw all too often on his wife’s face. Next to him, Jessica smiled softly. Michael followed his father’s gaze and realisation crossed his face when he noticed what he was looking at.
“Missing him? Damn, I barely knew him compared to you, and I still miss him.” Max allowed a small smile to spread.
“Oh, kid, if he were still here, he’d be the first one with tickets to the show. He would have sat there and beamed whenever you were on the stage. He loved cultured stuff like ballets and operas.” Jessica must have sensed the remembrance rolling off him. She reached over to take his hand.
“And he would have called me an old lady, and I’d pretend to be mad at him, even though he was right!” The three of them chuckled. On his other side, Michael took Max’s other hand.
“It sounds weird when I say it out loud, but when we talk about him like this, I feel his presence here in spirit.” Max understood.
“I don’t know if there’s anything waiting for us after death, but I do know that keeping his memory alive gives him life after death on Earth.” Jessica hummed in agreement.
“And now thanks to New York Times best-selling author Max Lobo, the whole world knows the truth about the real Ash Lynx.”
They each took a moment of silence between them. Max knew that Michael was right. He could almost picture Ash right now. As if he were sitting at the table with them.
Damn, Pops, stop with all the sap before the food gets cold, will ya?
Max chuckled. If anyone were to ask him, he would tell them he had two sons.
“Right.” The atmosphere of the room brightened as Jessica clapped her hands together. “Time to eat!” Michael shuffled his chair further in and picked up his cutlery.
“Smells amazing mom!” Jessica smiled. If she hadn’t been on the other side of the table, she definitely would have pinched his cheek.
“There’s seconds if you want it, sweetheart.”
“Do I get seconds?”
“Don’t be daft.”
Even with a member missing, Max thanked whoever was out there that this was his family, and he had the friends he did.
And most of all, that he got to let the world know the truth about Ash Lynx. The boy he considered his second son.