Work Text:
New York, 2015
“Tom Wambsgans.”
–Oh fuck, here we go.
“I couldn’t help but notice you dancing earlier, and I just had to ask… ‘Would you let me buy you a drink?’”
A little drunkenly, Shiv ponders the man now taking up so much of her field of vision. God… who let this guy in here. He’s exuding pure fucking awkwardness and… What the fuck is going on with his mouth? Over-enunciating over the music and… Somehow plastering his face with a much-too-much smile.
He’s waiting for her response, but Shiv decides he can wait a little longer as she continues sizing him up. Hulking, and in a badly fit suit too . Like a fish out of water trying to flirt his way into a frying pan.
But the image is changing, a little more in focus now, and Shiv focuses in on some of the materializing details. She decides to backtrack a bit. He doesn’t look too bad, definitely a little older than she is though… and– something about his… eyes and the way he moves his mouth… it's kind of… pleasant. Anyway, that’s not what she’s after right now. Or at least, not what she should be after. And if this guy has read those fucking tabloids, then she can guess what he’s after. He surprised her though, usually somehow letting herself go and being free on the dance floor kind of pushes back most of the untoward or toward advances for the moment.
She’s still staring at him when the song dies out and a new song starts playing. Shiv doesn’t know this one either. She’s been spending a whole lot of time at clubs like this and yet every song still just sounds the same. Fucking beep boops and thumping bass, whatever. There’s not really any point in paying attention to the music. Dancing right now is something she needs. She needs the noise, she needs the sweat, the constant motion, so that the cells in her body don’t have enough time to stay still enough to think about what she shouldn’t be thinking about. Unlike her friends who always scream “I looove this song!” and go bouncing about. Wait– fuck– now that she thinks about it… didn’t she come in with some people tonight? Where’d they–? Oh well, fuck if she actually cares.
Focusing what attention she can back to the man, she makes her decision. She gives him a small smile and without a word ignores him and walks one-eighty away, back onto the dance floor.
She glances back once, a little later, but he’s not there anymore.
Damn it– This isn’t working.
The thoughts are still there. Thinking is the enemy, but those fucking goddamn pointless voices won’t fucking stop. Shiv had let her long hair loose and it’s flying around wildly, but it doesn’t stop the incessant, swirling cycle of thoughts beneath it. She slows herself down, giving up, and walks away from the crowd. Using both hands to her to smooth down her hair, she lets them clasp behind her head as she sighs and looks around.
Yeah… she doesn’t remember who she had dragged in with her this particular night and whoever they were (Jessica maybe? Or was that yesterday? Debra? Oh yeah Debbie and her gang) they are nowhere to be found now. There’s some faces that look familiar though. One guy she’s pretty sure she saw hanging with Ken a few times before– Before . A few people next to him are very obviously snorting coke. And… the tiniest part of her is tempted, not because she actually wants– because well– and coke’s not her particular poison anyway–, but because there’s a small part of her deep inside her stomach that is ruled by the entirely strangest kind of jealousy. And it wants . It wants everything it knows it really, really shouldn’t. It wants things that it should be smart enough to know it can’t have and she feels cruel and guilty and angry for even thinking of. But the rest of her is disgusted, that they’re living it up here, while Ken is– Just like she is... God, she really needs another drink. Time to remedy that; and she hates drinking alone.
As she’s walking closer to the bar, she spots him. A beautiful man, dark hair, dark eyes, she thinks she even remembers him being here and flirting with her last week too. Perfect .
But as she continues walking over, in the corner of her eye she registers that tryhard of a man from earlier. He’s standing alone over at a small table near the end of the club. He quickly looked down at his drink like he was just caught staring at her.
She doesn’t know what comes over her just then, oh well, tomorrow she’ll blame the booze.
“Siobhan Roy. But you knew that already, didn’t you? I’ll have a Manhattan.”
“ -celebrating a big promotion actually. Yeah .” He tilts his head down, a bit bashfully, fighting an even bigger smile… It’s almost endearing in a way. “Actually my friends over there chose the place.” He points over at a table with half a dozen guys cheersing and laughing loudly.
“They… don’t really seem to notice you slipped out, huh.”
“Yeah. Yup, bunch of assholes really. Don’t ah– tell them I said that. Actually– no yeah whatever–” He does a flapping-adjacent motion with both of his hands, as if to stop and wave the words away. “But I can’t blame them…” he admits, leaning in and letting his voice lower. “I hardly even paid them any attention once I saw you across the room.”
“Flatterer, huh Tom?” she asks, starting to feel playful. “Tone it down a bit, no one likes a syco– sycophant.” Shiv responds, but with a smile creeping in on the edge of her lips. She takes another sip of her drink to cover it, while she ponders him a bit more.
Honestly, she can’t really even pinpoint what’s drawing her into this guy. Maybe it’s that he’s not intimidating at all, even though he looks like he could engulf her completely in his arms. She wasn’t always one for one-night stands. She wasn’t even this bad in college because she had to be the model student didn’t she? Ha– what was the fucking point of all that again? She wonders why she doesn’t just burn down her whole life like Ken does. A thought too far? But hey Mom always did say to look to Ken for guidance. What was she thinking about again? Tom, nice arms, taking him home. She knows she should stop doing this shit. She doesn’t like the image she gets from sleeping around. She doesn’t like her image in the mirror in the mornings either. Shiv’s worked her whole life to be the black sheep of the family by trying to actually have a good reputation. But every night she’s out here just looking for nice enough arms. She likes the focus in their eyes. She likes the pressure of their chests. She likes the quiet it brings. And so she’ll admit to herself that yeah Tom Wamb-whatever-the-fuck could be worth hating herself in the morning. He’s tall… and broad... She thinks to herself she’d like to try broad . She wonders if he’s proportional…
“ –bout you?” she hears the tailend of.
“Hmmm?” Shiv says finally breaking out of her thoughts.
“I asked, ‘What about you?’ What brings THE Siobhan Roy here tonight?”
Well isn’t that the million dollar question.
“Oh, fuck you.” Shiv says suddenly, knowing she’s overreacting, but letting her mood swing wherever it wants to go. Half the club may be judging her all to hell, but she’s not gonna sit around and let this oaf judge her to her face. She’s suddenly conscious of every person in the room. Stupid stupid stupid. She shouldn’t have come out tonight. “Don’t fucking play dumb. I’m sure you’ve read all about it huh. Trying to get the inside scoop, sell it to the Post? Or was that what your table was laughing at over there? ‘Cause you bet your friends how long it’d take you to open up my–”
“Whoa! Whoa there– No Siobhan, no… sorry I didn’t mean to… I meant– I’m– I’m not going to lie… I have heard a few things, but– but!” Tom blurts out as quickly as he can. He then takes a breath, lowering his head to better meet Shiv’s steely eyes, “But, trust me… I didn’t read it. And even if someone taped my eyes open and scanned the words directly into my brain, I wouldn’t believe a single word. I don’t know what those fucking vultures on the worst of the worst of all the tabloids was thinking putting a piece like that out, but trust me Siobhan, I didn’t read it.”
Shiv’s still glaring at him while she forces herself to calm down. Breathing. Her therapist said to breathe. The room slowly stops feeling so dizzying. She decides to give up in their stare-off and lets out a big sigh instead.
“I didn’t read it either.” She admits. Whatever they wrote probably wasn’t even too far off the mark. She tells herself that she didn’t read it because she can’t be bothered, but the truth is that she's scared to see what they see. So if she chooses to believe him: it’s a relief. Not having to worry about words she can’t even bring herself to read being reflected back to her from his eyes. Another sigh, “What brings me here? Fuck you, what brings me here... A girl can’t just go out and have fun?”
“Of course– I didn't mean to imply– it's just… Being honest here… You don’t seem like you’re actually having a lot of fun…”
Shiv starts laughing. “Yeah ok. Ha. Fine. I'm here because I like the sounds… and I like the noise… and I don’t want to be alone.” She would’ve thought that she scared Tom away with her outburst, but he’s still here and he doesn’t look scared. And his eyes are still doing that thing like they’re trying to reach out to her. Impressive how he can manipulate the light in his eyes like that. She should try to learn that trick. “Actually, really, really don’t want to be alone… So…” She gives the best seduction look she can, but honestly she’s just so tired she doesn’t know how well it conveys. “Wanna get out of here?”
“No…?” She stares at him incredulously. The pieces of her ego just breaking that little bit more. What the fuck was all this then?
“Well, not no it’s just– And I don’t mind going– and Siobhan, I don’t want you misunderstanding me–”
“Scuse me buddy, but just what was the fucking point of stalking me all night if you weren’t interested?”
“It’s not–”
“Oh so you just felt bad. That’s a new one for me. Mr. Boyscout here pitying me, that's a new fucking low.”
“You’ve been drinking–”
“YOU bought me this drink!” Shiv argues, eyes widening. ”If you didn’t want me fucking drinking why the fuck did you buy me a drink?”
“I just wanted to talk to you, Siobhan,” Tom says, as if it was all so innocent. All so fucking simple. Shiv knows better, she knows she knows better. But she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be knowing right now.
“…about fucking what ?” Shiv says, giving him a broken and exasperated look. She waits a second looking for his response, before deciding instead to resolutely stare at the table.
Tom pauses, like he’s thinking of exactly how to phrase this. “Anything you want. ‘Cause I’ll be honest, from where I’m standing it looks like you don’t really have anyone else to talk to. And…” He gestures around him. “I’m here– A willing ear ready to listen.”
“And you know they say sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.” Tom reaches for her hand. “Hey look at me,” And she does, Shiv looks up at him. “I’m not going to sell you to any tabloids. I’m not a reporter in disguise.” He gives a soft smile. “I just saw you from across the room and thought you could use an ear. And yes– I knew who you were, but from what I’ve heard about you Siobhan, I’ve always only respected you… And… I’m a vault, I swear. My lips are sealed.” Tom finishes as he mimes zipping his mouth and throwing away a key.
Shiv is just so so tired. She picks up guys here because it’s easy. And whatever happens when she gets the guys home, she’s controlling it. She has that power. And lately she feels she’s breaking apart anyway. She doesn’t know what it’s going to take to get her out of feeling like this all of the goddamn time. But maybe he’s right. Maybe what she needs is to spill all her rotten insides out so that when this liar in front of her spills all her dirty secrets to the world maybe there’ll be a kind of peace in that destruction. She thinks about the last time she visited Ken. She thinks she saw it in his eyes.
“What do you get out of this then, huh?” Shiv counterpoints, drawing her hand out from underneath his. She knows he was lying earlier. She knows any information is power and she knows power and she knows sweet talking guys. Whether they’re pumping you for information or fucking you for status points they just want that one thing. But she’ll humor him.
He pauses a moment, rolling a response around in his mouth. “I get to talk to you.” Tom admits seemingly sincere.
Shiv blinks. Then remembers herself and takes a sigh before responding, “Ok. Ok fine. Fine. I’ll skip over the obvious. You want the truth well, don't say I didn't warn you. None of this is going to make any sense, but you asked for it bucko.” Shiv takes a swig of her drink.
“Lucky you, you get to see all the mess inside.”
“I had a plan, you know.” Shiv mumbles, her hands supporting her forehead. They’ve moved to a small booth where they could sit down and where the music was a little quieter.
"A fucking stupid teenage rebellion prove-it-to-yourself plan. It was just a delusion though, looking back. Once you get to strike a-hundred you start to realize you weren’t ever really in the game.” Shiv shifts her head to lean on one hand, while the other starts playing with the maraschino cherry in her drink. “Nothing I do matters to them and yeah sure I think I always knew that... It's just that I realized tonight, that nothing they do matters too.”
“Who? Your brother?”
Shiv is silent.
“...I had heard– I mean it’s been on the news– your brother went into rehab two weeks ago.”
“Ha. Yeah well it's been a very very long ‘tonight’.” She humorously laughs, her eyes still looking intensely at the cherry.
“...And the plan… That’s Waystar? Waystar Royco?”
She doesn’t look up at him, plopping the cherry back into the glass. Was it obvious? She didn’t think it was obvious. Black sheeps don’t typically dye themselves to have the shepherd crown them. But maybe she was obvious.
“Well I’m guessing, looking at you and knowing what I know about you: Youngest and most female of the Waystar dynasty. You’ve always shown a lot of ambition, Siobhan. I heard about your recent win. It’s very impressive. Hell of a win really. A democrat in that red of a state. My family back home are diehard democrats and let me tell you, they were ecstatic when they saw the news.”
Tom is quiet again for a moment before continuing, “Huh, so you do want in on Waystar.” He ponders a bit before saying, “With two brothers already that high up in the company, that's a tough fight.”
“Shut up. What does Waystar matter? You’re the one who fucking brought it up.” Shiv lies, as if she didn't just admit it all right then. Is that what everyone else is thinking about her? Of course they think she’s that heartless, that shallow, she’s here isn’t she? “You don’t think my brother almost dying isn’t enough reason for me to drink myself silly every night?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it.” Tom shrugs.
“You think I’m so heartless that I’m– I’m out here partying it up because I’m– what? Mourning my chances at nepotism at the Racists’R’Us news corp instead of because my brother– coming back from the brink of death and is– is fucking locked away in some middle of nowhere Iceland facility? All while his kids are probably fucking traumatized for life and my whole family is running around like crazy trying to fix everything he completely fucked up.” What does this guy know? He wasn’t there. None of these nobodies were. They just watch from their little phone screens and think they know everything.
“Hey! Hey, Hey… Siobhan– You’re putting words into my mouth. I’m not saying any of that. It’s a lot. I know that. I know a lot is going on for you.” Tom bites his lip, before continuing, “But it’s ok if that’s not everything you’re feeling. Events like this can be complex. Multifaceted. You’re allowed to want things. I wouldn’t blame you if you saw a chance and you took it. And to do that when you’re at your weakest… honestly that just makes you strong in my eyes.”
She doesn’t feel strong. “Yeah you’re right, a fucking lot is going on.” Shiv tries to snap at him but the heat inside her is flickering. “It’s all hell in the Roy family shitshow."
"First of all my fucking mom invited me to some god awful retreat in the woods while she– she won’t even see Kendall. I can’t bear to look at her let alone be stuck in the middle of nowhere doing God knows what. Her eldest son and shes just– just fucking ignoring him. She wouldn't even take his calls and you…. you didn’t see the look on Ken’s face...”
She pauses for a quick moment but then charges on, why is she telling him this? But she’s gone too far already.
“Rome’s flying back and forth so often he’s practically haunting the rehab center. He’s driving the staff mad. Heard that Hollywood’s actually relieved he’s taking so long away ‘cause– ‘cause he was absolutely fucking up their next summer blockbuster. Which of course he was. Can’t even give him a babysitting gig like that without him fucking it up. All the meanwhile, Connor keeps calling me with experimental addiction treatments that I do NOT want to hear about and sound more like they'd be likely to finish the job that the coke didn't.” He doesn’t blink even at Connor’s name. Man really has done his Royco homework. Huh.
“Not to mention shares are plummeting because the whole world is tuned into our family drama, because– why wouldn’t they be… And I can’t do anything about anything… And why should I?... I’m just another slutty drunk page six idiot, that’s what everyone is saying right?” … She reminds herself she didn’t want to say it out loud. She was supposed to be ignoring it… be above it all.
She sighs another big sigh, before thunking her head on the booth behind her. “And yet…” She takes a deep breath, feeling that there’s more she has to let out. But she also can’t believe she’s talking about this at all. She tilts her head to look at Tom again. His eyes. She’d call it pity, but no– it’s not. He’s calm. But soft. He’s been hanging on every word like he could possibly understand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But maybe…
“You know, when I got my MA for Poli Sci, he didn’t invite me in. I got offers, I got a lot of fucking offers, but ‘No’ I said. I said ‘No, Hang on.’ I came home, because when Ken finished Harvard, he got asked in. When Rome dropped out of and then again when he went back and finally fucking finished at USC he got asked in. When I come home, he– he just. Fuck.”
“And every Christmas or holiday, he leans over to me and says ‘When are you going to quit all that and come in?’ Well I know and he knows it’s just words, just games. He still wasn’t asking . He was just poking at me.” Shiv makes a few jabs of a poking motion onto the table, as she leans closer. “He does that a lot poking, prodding but never asking. And I play along, like an idiot. But what am I supposed to do? And I get that the politics don’t really line up, but he doesn’t listen, I’ve told him before, it’s a fucking strength. It’s the way forward. I’m the clear way forward. And I would be so good and he can’t see it or doesn’t even think about it. He talks like I’m gonna magically turn into a fuckin’ brainwashed red elephant minion to just assist the fucking Rotting Peach spout all that crap on the news! That’s bullshit!”
“And now, right now. Right now . It makes perfect sense. He needs someone with good PR, a change in the company for better, a new face. Someone fresh off a congressional win. And I asked… I actually finally asked… and he said ‘Kenny just needs some time’. ‘Just some time’, can you believe it? As if Ken wasn’t hanging on for dear life in that ER? As if he hadn’t just completely fucked his whole family? As if every other company in the world doesn’t know just how fucking weak we are right now?”… Shiv slumps back against her seat again. “But it’s not my problem. My names on the fucking building but its ‘not my problem’. They always seem to be in these closed doors meetings and I know fuck all of what's going on.”
“My whole life I’ve been trying to prove myself to him. And this time I asked, I actually asked with my mouth open and words– real – real and precise words actually fucking coming out. I asked for it. And where has that left me.”
“And I never even know what he really thinks of me. Con and Ken say I’m the favorite, but he never listens when I have something to say. I’m always kept behind the door. He keeps hinting that he wants me with him, but he never really means it and it’s like– it’s like– I'm like that kid with the football and the kicking and– and the lies!”
“The kid from Peanuts? Charlie Brown?” Tom helpfully supplies. He had been quiet for all of this but his attention has never wavered.
“Yes! yes! Fuck! I'm fucking Peanuts. Ha…Funny ha. Bartender the other day called me ‘peanut’, you know that? ‘I'm cutting you off, Peanut.’ Jackass.”
“Definitely doesn't fit you.”
“Ha, you know what my dad called me that day? Pinky. I’m practically 30 now and it was fine when I was five, but he's and he's still calling me that…”
“That sounds adorable… But for a kid… And though I do find you pretty adorable now… but no, I don’t think that suits you either… Do you like Shiv?”
“What do you mean, do I like Shiv?”
“Just wondering your opinion on it.” Tom says plainly. “I mean it’s a nickname too, right?”
“I mean… barely. It’s just a short name. It’s not the same thing. Con’s Con, Ken’s Ken, Rome’s Rome. And I'm… me.” Shiv tapers off.
She scratches at the back of her hand, as she contemplates the thought a bit more, “…Well now that I’m thinking about it I guess it wasn’t the nicest thing when I was younger. You know how kids are horrible fucking little monsters… And I had an ex in high school who said some… not nice things when we broke up… Something about cutting up his heart– but like, it didn't bother me.” Shiv determines resolutely. “Shiv is Shiv, it's not like a nickname it's just… me.”
“Anyway, why the fuck are we talking about names?” Shiv says and she shakes off some feelings of surprise at the realization of how she’s been talking this long at all. It didn’t feel like talking. It felt like scratching at wounds, both the fresh and the scarred.
“I told you Shiv, anything you want to talk about.”
“I didn’t come out tonight for the fucking inquisition.”
“If you don't feel like talking about anything else, we can stop. If you want I can walk you home– I mean– I can at least hail you a cab.”
“So chivalrous. Sure this isn’t a sneaky way of still getting a fuck?”
“Maybe it’s just because i don’t want the rest of the world to see your adorable drunken baby gazelle walk.”
“Oh screw you”, Shiv returns, but it's bravado. Actually Tom’s right, Shiv really doesn’t wanna be here anymore. She’s bled her insides out too much tonight. She doesn’t wanna see anyone she might know. She wants to avoid the cameras. She doesn’t even want to call her driver. She feels too open, too raw. It’s not safe here anymore. “Ok fine walk me to a taxi or whatever.”
It's quieter outside and a little chilly as they wait for a taxi. They’re both facing towards the road. Quiet. Shiv fills the silence, because she apparently isn’t done vomiting up her thoughts since this guy just seems to take it all in stride. “Jobless right now… I technically quit already… but I could go back, stick to Moyer… I don’t want to. He doesn’t have what it takes.” She turns her head to look at him. “But do you know Joyce Miller? Yeah she’s moving up to senate. I mean– if I help. She’s popular. Asked specifically for me. She’s got that look in her eye and I think she’s even got her eye on the top prize. And I could do it, I know I fucking could.”
“But I can hardly think about it because what’s even the point? I don’t know what I’m even doing I–”, Shiv looks around. They're out of the club but it's still too much. She’s crying. Why is she crying? “I– I don’t want to be here, Tom. Can you– can you take me home please?”
Stepping out of the taxi, Shiv tries to pull herself together as if she didn’t just beg this guy to come home with her. Whatever. There were some words that shouldn't have been said, but she can salvage this. It felt like she was spilling her insides for hours at that club, but it won’t matter if she can just fuck that all out of him. That’s what all this is about anyway right? Fucking guys. Fucking bar guys. She just didn’t have other guys to fuck, which is why she goes to bars. She would’ve just probably settled for Nate again, but with everything with Ken, she didn’t even want to think about him. Who cares if there was some talking? She got him here in the end didn’t she?
“Tom? Walk me inside?”
“Nightcap?”
“No.” Tom softly grabs the bottle in her hand “No thank you. And I’d wisely suggest none for you too. If you want, I can make us some coffee?”
Shiv pulls the bottle back from him and takes a sip directly from it as she lands on the couch.
Tom shrugs and looks around at the apartment.
“Impressive yeah? I know, everyone loves the view. But wanna see the bedroom? Big ass window in there too. You can fuck me while looking over the whole city.”
“Shiv, that’s not why I'm here... I’d love to, I really would. But I really just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
“Got it, you don’t fuck. You don’t have the equipment. You just wanna talk . You just wanna walk me home. Yeah right.” She grabs him and pulls him down onto the couch. “Come on, anybody and their mom would kill for bragging rights that they fucked over Shiv Fucking Roy”
Tom pulls at an uncomfortable pillow out from behind his back, before looking at her and repeating, “...Over?”
Fuck. Whatever. “Or under .”
“No you said ‘fucked over’.”
“Whatever. You talk too much, Sasquatch” Shiv lets out a sad little giggle, “You know what? Fuck you, I didn't want to fuck you anyway.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds off, Miss Can't Accept A Raincheck doth protest too much.”
Tom holds her hand and places it on her knee. “I would treat you really nice, Shiv. If we did what you wanted to do. And I definitely want. But not tonight... Like I said you’ve been drinking and–”
“Fine, got it. Got it. No fucking.” Her voice feels slightly hoarse. She knows if Tom’s not here to fuck, he wants something more. They always do. She probably looks like a billion dollar bill in the shape of a woman. A social climber then, she supposes. She understands it. But fuck… she really doesn’t want to be alone. She can’t– she really can’t– she’s gonna hyperventilate if she has to sit alone with herself tonight.
“No fucking… but uh– will you stay? We can um… do that talking thing you like? Just uh only tonight. I'm not like giving you my number or anything. And I definitely don’t want yours. It’s just a one-time situation. Anyway you should just stay, so I don’t drown in my vomit or whatever. ‘Cause you know If I do and the cameras saw you come in, they’d probably pin it on you with a murder charge. So… stay. It's a win-win for everybody.”
“Ok. Yeah yeah I don't have work tomorrow I can– I can stay just here on the couch.” Tom pats the armrest softly.
It's awkward, but Shiv chose this so she can’t really complain. “So did you wanna watch a movie or…”, she takes another sip from the bottle. “Any other burning questions for your Roy family investigative report?”
He glances at the turned off TV on the wall. “There’s no report, Shiv. But yes, I can’t lie. I’m fascinated. I’m fascinated by you, by your world.” He shifts on the couch to angle his body to face her.
“And I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about before. And Shiv and I may be overstepping here. But, well maybe your big plan didn't work because you've been doing this all alone."
“I may not be the expert on CEO’s and multi-billion dollar corporations, but I’ve been in the business world for a while now and I know that you can’t just swoop in and expect to take the reins without anyone on your side. I know you’ve been smart, you made a whole amazing path for yourself!… But I bet it didn’t leave a lot of connections to the ol’ home base. If you want what I think you want, you need someone in your corner helping you fight your fight.”
It’s not a new thought. But it feels novel coming out of Tom’s mouth. She hates to admit it but she’s always felt separate. On her own. She’s told Dad, Ken, Rome, Gerri everybody that the reason Waystar is dying like a dinosaur is because they alienate. That's what they do. It’s how she feels. They alienate everybody but that tiny red little circle, spinning the same ideas around and around, not letting anyone in. But again what does that matter?
Shiv scoffs "And what do you think? You're going to be my knight in shining armor? You’re nobody , not even a pesky fly on my radar. I’m not gonna even remember you after tonight."
She goes to take another sip, but he takes it out of her hands. “Well let’s stop this for a sec and I’m hoping for a chance that you might.”
Well that’s fucking annoying. “I thought you were just here to listen.”
“Well now I’m here to get you some water.” Tom stands up to do so.
“Oh how sweet, you wanna get me water. You know I see right past you, I know what you’re doing.” Shiv says as Tom walks towards the kitchen.
“Uh huh. What am I doing Shiv?” He says with a slight smile, just before walking out of sight.
Shiv raises her voice to almost a shout so that he can still hear her. “You are doing something! Maybe blackmail! Maybe you wanna ransom me! Maybe you think you’re Cinderella and you think I'm gonna fall instantly in love with you and your size 14 feet!”
Tom returns, placing a glass of water into Shiv’s hands and sits again facing her. Shiv puts the glass down on the table end and looks straight into Tom’s eyes. “See I was offering you a fuck sweetie, but that was all. Not interested in whatever the fuck you think is going on here.”
Tom leans across her to pick the glass back up and put it again into Shiv’s hands. “I’m interested in you, Siobhan. I know I’m just a stranger, but I’d like it if I got to see you again, past tonight. Maybe even get brave enough to ask you on a date.”
“Well good luck with that, since I won’t even be in the country for the next month or so.”
“...Oh. I see...” Shiv feels successful at that sound. Finally a wrench in his ‘have an heiress fall in love with me plan’.
“I just wanna let everything die down here. My friends getting married to some French nouveau riche whatever the fuck and said I could lay low over there.”
Shiv takes a sip of the water and continues, “Yeah too bad. But better luck next time, you know I hear Naomi Pierce just dumped her last boyfriend. You should try stalking outside the Pierce Building, see if you can catch that fish instead.”
“Well she is pretty…” Bastard is pretending to actually think about it. “But I’m not quite sure I’m her type.”
“Well you’re definitely not my type either.”
“Again doth the lady protest.”
“Fine ok you have nice…” She waves a hand in circular motion “face..., but anyway, like I said you're missing your chance. I’m planning to be in France for the next month. Someone I know is engaged and she– I don't know, wants me to stand next to her while she prepares things. It's a good chance to hide from the tabloids, hide from my family, and just rot someplace else.”
“So you staying with them or?”
“No, god no. Hotel. By myself. It’s more of just an excuse to get away. Anyway what that means for you, Tom, is that even if I manage to remember your name tomorrow, I’m definitely gonna forget all about you by the time I'm back in New York.”
“That really is too bad… Well, what if I come see you in France?”
“Not too sure how it works with you MBA minions, but not sure you can just ditch work to fly off to at the drop of a hat especially right after getting that fancy promotion of yours.”
“You remembered.”
“It is the only thing you've said about yourself.”
“Well since you won’t give me your phone number, then how about this. When you land in France, send me a postcard. Then we can snail mail. I have great penmanship. I'll write you some little notes, send you some reminders, so you don’t forget about me. And some tidbits of my life so you can get to know me.”
“I am not doing that.”
“It’ll be fun. And then if you don’t respond back, I’ll have no choice but to find you in Paris and sweep you off your feet.”
“Sounds highly unlikely Tom, but I’ll leave you your daydreams.”
“Thank you, that's kind of you.” He starts gesturing with his hands as he lays out his fantasy. “The way I see it, I'm there in Paris. It’s raining because I heard it's very important for it to be raining. More romantic– when it's raining in Paris. I’m strolling along when I see you across the street sitting in some little cafe– twenty million bodyguards around you probably.”
“Our French bodyguard count is a bit lower budgeted at only fifteen million actually.”.
“I see times are tough for everyone. I’ll correct that in my mind's vision.”
“I run up to you and kiss you. It's wonderful, there’s a rainbow and everyone is clapping. Then we jump in one of those boats floating down the Seine.”
“You’ve never actually been to Paris have you?”
“Nope and shush there’s more. Now that I've disposed of your bodyguards–”
“Disposed of huh?”
“Yes. I’ve also thrown them into the Seine.”
“Is this a bad time to mention the place I'm staying in France isn’t Paris?”
“Shush. We find someplace quiet with a beautiful view of the not -Eiffel Tower and I just start worshiping you.” Tom starts rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "Every inch of you I’ll kiss.” He brings Shiv’s hand to his mouth for a light kiss. His lips lift off so gently barely and inch and he lightly speaks into her hand. “Caress. Worship. Until I find exactly what you like.”
That’s so cheesy and dumb and she should throw him out. But her hand feels warm where he kissed it. “And um… in this delusional fairytale land, after you’ve won the princess’s heart, what do you do?”
“I help her gain her rightful throne.”
Oh he’s crazy. Yup what she sensed before seems to be screaming at her now. Tom is so power hungry, she doesn’t know how she missed it. But he’s simple now. She almost likes how transparent he is, Nate liked power too, but he was so fucking weird about it. Tom’s… easy.
“Ok, so the endgoal of this big diabolical fucking plan? Lay it out for me.”
“Ok so here’s how I see it. Me, I’ll be your Trojan Horse. At the top of the top of the food chain.”
“You don’t even work for our company!”
“Well I didn’t say it would be the quickest plan–”
“I just met you. You can’t be planning to overthrow my father. I’m not even ever going to see your face again after tonight. Anybody ever tell you that you are SO SO strange?”
“Well, if we only have tonight, we should feel free to say whatever we think of, shouldn’t we? And hey we’re not overthrowing anybody, just gonna have them share the spotlight a little.” Tom smirks “And something tells me that you like strange.”
“You really are hilarious Wambsgans… This is basically a proposal, do you get that? You can’t propose to me before a first date.”
“Ah-ha so we’ll have a first date then?”
“ –No see, that’s not even a plan. Yes, ATN is the lifeblood, but Cyd the peach is never ever going to retire and one look at you and I doubt she’d let you in the building. What you’d wanna do– Hypothetically…”
“Oh hypothetically, of course–”
“Hypothetically, the heart of the company is in the real physical timeless stuff. Brightstar. Easy promotion with so many parks and Dad has a real soft spot for it. Plus Bill, he’s not long for the company and he’s a complete pushover. A snake, I mean– everyone there is, but you can get on his good side pretty easily.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically.”
" –Then we'll make him pay attention to you. I'll buckle up, rise the ranks, a smooth elevator would be nice– but even if I don't quite get on his good side right away... I'm a smart guy Shiv and we'll make it work. And you–” he holds her head in his hands “–you are gonna be the thorn he just can't ignore. Puppetmaster of the president. Soothsayer and adversary. Commander of the one guy– sorry woman– higher up than he. Picture it, I’m right next to you. Your words. My mouth. One hand in my pocket. The other in the President of the United States'. We’ll rule the fucking world, Shiv. With me as your devoted knight. He'll have to see you."
“This night isn’t even real. You’re not real.”
“… I could be, Shiv.”
When Shiv wakes up it’s well into the afternoon. She’s on the couch and the light is pouring in. On the coffee table is a note with a name and an address. No phone number. She eyes the trash can, but puts the note into her pocket.
France, 2015
On her first day out, seeing the sights or what passed for sights, she saw a stand with a whole array of postcards. The one on the bottom left had a picture of the hotel she was staying at.
Screw it.
'Bet this place has nothing on Kansas, huh Smallville? -S. Roy'
A week later the concierge at the hotel handed her an airmailed envelope. Inside was a handwritten letter on what must have been some made-to-look-aged paper with the words:
'Dear Siobhan, Actually from Minnesota, originally. St. Paul :) - Sincerely, Tom Wambsgans'
There was a second page where he had written about his favorite places in St. Paul and what he misses about it. He mentioned his family and a dog that his family had back home and how he was thinking of getting a dog of his own.
In the next few days more often than not, there would be a similar envelope arriving for her. Some with stories about first moving to New York, winning a high school hockey game, a movie he saw this week. They were each fairly short clippets of his life, but he kept sending them.
Shiv ended up doing the exact same things she was doing before, but with a French twist. French nightclubs, French guys, a few French girls, luckily she knew enough French to get by. Well it wasn’t exactly the same. Apparently without anyone she knew to judge her for it, she found out she liked French drugs too. She was spiraling and she knew she was spiraling. She was getting reckless and she knew she couldn’t hide out here forever.
After a particularly bad trip, she arrived back at her hotel for another letter to be waiting for her. She opened it, even though she mostly felt like throwing up her whole insides then dying for a week.
Inside it said:
'Dear Siobhan, I think this will be my last letter for now, I do hope you’ve been giving these a read and not throwing them out immediately. I’ve very much enjoyed imagining you in your French castle reading my little notes. And you mentioned you didn’t want it, but here’s my number. I know we met under what could be called unusual circumstances, but I really really would love to see you again once you’re back in New York. If you’re ever interested, give me a call. Sincerely, Tom Wambsgans'
Shiv took the letter with her as she lay down in her bed. She bunched the comforter around her like a cocoon and looked at her phone. Her head ached and she felt nauseous, but the letter in her hand felt like it was singeing her fingertips. She scrolled past all the notifications from Connor and Roman that she’d been ignoring and typed in the number.
“Hello?”
“Hey Tom.”
“Shiv? Is that you?”
“Yeah… I’ve been getting your letters. You were right you really do have great penmanship… Umm… that whole night is kind of blurry to be honest, but remember when you offered to fly over here?”
Tom coming to France was something for sure. She’s had better sex. But he made sure she came. And a lot. And he actually was pretty proportional. It felt more than just sex though. She knew he’d do absolutely anything she wanted and yes that’s nothing new. She often chooses partners who are very willing to please. She knows she can be pretty demanding in sex. But he kept asking. Asking about everything, if she liked it. And Shiv couldn’t respond. And he kept making her feel . Shiv isn’t stupid. Sex is about control, but in those moments it didn’t feel like it. It just felt like Tom wanted to give her everything and Shiv wanted everything he could give. Like she needed everything he could give. It was like he said, she felt worshiped. He kept asking her if she liked it. Like he needed to know more than he needed to breathe.
Sex usually makes her feel strong. Maybe a little regretful in the mornings, but during the act? She feels in control almost always. With Tom that night... With Tom... She felt weak. But she felt held . Looking back, he had the control there and that scares her. And it scares her that it made her feel so much. Too many emotions all at once and it was all too much. It’s worse because she knows she was completely sober that night too. It can’t happen ever again. And it didn’t.
She slept with him the next day after she showed him around the city. The day after that she took him to Paris so could have his Sabrina moment. When he’s excited, he’s just like a humongous puppy. It felt good to get control back. That night she rode him into the ground. Even when he was on top again, it felt good to know she still had the power. She likes Tom she really does, but she can’t ever ever let him have that kind of control over her ever again.
New York, 2018
– And oh God he’s getting down on one knee. This can’t be happening. Tom, there is no way you are this dumb– What the fuck? He’s such a fucking snake. A goofy fucking snake. Hit me while I'm down? What the fuck? What the fuck is he talking about? What the fuck? Oh ok. I know what he’s thinking, as dumbfuck stupid as it is… He’s trying. This is so not the time, but God without Dad… He’s trying. I knew he was carrying the ring all this weekend. I was gonna let him down gently. Tell him it wasn’t time yet. But this– This definitely is not the time. He’s so stupid. He was trying. He was trying to schmooze up to Dad. That was for the plan. But God if Dad dies… If Dad dies… I can’t think about it… But if Dad dies… I have Tom. Tom. Tom who will give me everything he has. And we have our plan. Marriage. Marriage? Really now? Forever until not. Ken and Rome fucked up because they just don’t understand it. Look at Ken spiraling by himself. Who the fuck even knows what’s going on with Grace. When things are going to hell you need a steady port. You can’t do this alone. I don’t have to do this alone… Am I actually saying yes? All marriage is destined to fail. But we– We. I mean WE could– we could make it work. We have foundations, a plan. And I love him. I love him and we have something. I can’t lose him. You don’t let go of a dog who’s never going to stray. We could- We could make it work.
New York, 2019
Tom’s not understanding. It makes sense, Tom. Its just a change in the plan. Me as the CEO just makes more sense. They still have the plan, it just looks different. The foundation is still steady beneath them, he has to see that.
New York, 2020
A real conversation. He wants a real conversation. He’s a SNAKE. She knew that all along but it never occurred to her how much. Is he even a person under there? ‘I shouldn’t have even married him?’ HE PROPOSED. HE GOT WHAT HE WANTED. He’s got power. LOVE? Since the start he’s been fucking me for my DNA LADDER. I’m broken? He married me for love? If anything that was me. I chose HIM. I’m the one. I loved him. I never even liked him. I LET HIM IN. I LET HIM BREAK ME.
New York,
It’s quiet in the office. Shiv takes a moment to look around and remember how much the room has changed since it was her dad’s. How much it hasn’t. Her eyes land on the CEO nameplate sitting on the table.
Tom Wambsgans
'Picture it, I’m right next to you.'
“For the photo Mrs. Roy, could we have you with your arm linked through Mr. Wambsgans’s? Great just like that.”
'Your words. My mouth. One hand in my pocket.'
“I fucking told you! Not to say that in front of Mattson! You never fucking listen!”
“I tried Shiv! I told him your thoughts verbatim! It made me look weak! He heard your side and he said no. Just accept it! You know you should really listen when I talk too. Mattson liked my idea. Because it was a good fucking idea. And yours wasn’t.”
'The other in the President of the United States'.'
“Mencken said he wants you specifically to do it.”
“Why the fuck does he need me to? Send someone else! Or better yet you do it yourself!”
“Guess he likes you better. The board is worried about that bill Shiv, and you know you’re the one.”
'We’ll rule the fucking world, Shiv.'
Shiv sometimes lies on her back. On their bed. Awake with eyes open. Knowing Tom, lying next to her, is not asleep either. And sometimes she thinks back on that night five years ago and a story that she studied once in a college literature class. She wonders about Faust being damned by Mephistopheles. And then wonders if Mephistopheles felt damned by Faust too. Then she realizes that that’s stupid to think about. And then she tries again to go to sleep.