Rush

A wealthy man must face the truth about his fortune.

The noise of conversation and laughter was sweeter to him than the music he’d spent so much on.

 

He let out a booming laugh, so loud it made the woman next to him jump. This caused him to laugh again, a rush of wine making his cheeks ruddy and hot.

 

“Mr. Goulding, you must tell me where you got this wine,” said Carl Lanner, holding up a glass of the fine drink.

 

Goulding smiled knowingly at the man.  Lanner’s wife, he knew, would visit him later in the night. “The credit truly belongs to my daughter,” he said with a smile. “She’s been in a school in Richmond, and got to know the owner of a charming little vineyard.”

 

“Ah, I heard about that,” came a soft voice from behind him.

 

Goulding turned to face the man, nearly stumbling in the process. “Oh?”

 

The man was tanned, in his 30s, and only vaguely familiar to Goulding. He squinted and tried to place his face, then gave up. It hardly mattered.

 

“The school is one of the best in the country, is it not?”

 

Goulding nodded with a proud smile. “Some say the best.”

 

“How could you possibly afford it?”

 

Goulding’s surprised laugh was matched by Lanner’s. “Look around!” Lanner said with a patronizing smile. It was true, Goulding knew; the ornate mansion left little doubt as to his excessive wealth.

 

“True enough,” the man said. “All of it, it’s from California, am I right? The gold?”

 

Lanner rolled his eyes. “Don’t get him started. Everyone has memorized his adventures by now. I’m sure in time, you will too.”

 

Goulding looked again at the tan man. How did he know him? The party was really not so large that he should forget anyone’s name.

 

“Pray tell of the gold,” the man prompted.

 

A sick feeling stabbed at Goulding’s stomach, as always happened upon this topic. He’d avoided thinking about it for a while now, but his boasting of the past kept the memories fresh.

 

His tongue never could decide whether to keep silent and allow him to forget or cover the memories with lies of sparkling wealth.

 

“Well, it was 15 years ago,” he began with a smile. “I was in my 30s when I heard of the gold, on the border between youth and manhood. I gathered all my resources, all I had, and set out to make my fortune.

 

But it was harder than that. I’d spent so much on the journey that I had little with which to buy supplies. The gold was scarce, and I found barely enough to survive on. And to make matters worse, I soon grew sick. I was on the verge of death, and I had no one to help.

 

"One fateful day, I dragged myself out of that wretched little tent and went to work. I knew it to be my last chance before I was forced return home or die in that miserable place.” Goulding paused, ostensibly for dramatic effect. He blinked away the memories of his destitution and focused on the lie.

 

The wine dragged at his tongue. Looking closer at the man, he noticed his odd posture. His eye was drawn to the man’s arm, and he looked at it curiously for a moment.

 

“It’s wooden,” the man said. He rolled back his sleeve to show Goulding, who looked with surprise and curiosity. “I was shot in the shoulder once, when I was but 15. The man was aiming for my heart. But please continue.”

 

“I shall continue only if you will share that story when I finish,” he said, smiling broadly. The man nodded, and Goulding continued.

 

“There’s really not much to tell about that morning. I looked down and was struck with awe; there, right in front of me, was the bulk of this fortune.” Goulding gestured broadly to the riches around the group.

“A rush of true joy ran through me. I continued working that site by myself until I could find no more gold. So I came back home and established myself. I’d grown through naught but hard work into the second wealthiest man in South Carolina.” He grinned at Lanner’s ever-impressed expression, and looked to the man.

 

Goulding frowned at the man’s expression. The story had been built to inspire and impress. The man hardly looked touched--in fact, he hardly showed emotion at all.

 

“Very nice,” the man said shortly.

 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Goulding said, “but what was your name again?”

 

The man smiled for the first time. “Oh of course. I’m Eric Smith, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

 

Lanner raised his eyebrows. “My good man, how did you get in? This is a closed party!”

 

Intrigued, Goulding held up a hand. “Pease don’t worry, Mr. Lanner. I’m sure I’ll get to know Mr. Smith in a moment.”

 

“Indeed,” Smith said, and abruptly turned and ran up the staircase.

 

Goulding nearly dropped his wine. The sick feeling still hadn’t faded after the story. “What in the--”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention,” Smith called from the top.

 

The noise ceased rapidly, even the musicians stopping in confusion.

 

“I trust you all know how our dear Mr. Goulding received his wealth,” Smith began with a smile. The guests smiled too; it was obviously another toast to his host’s success. Goulding relaxed too, though something about the younger man still put him off.

 

“I, too, was in California 15 years ago,” Smith said loudly. “In fact, Mr. Goulding and I knew each other.”

 

A slow look of horror crept over Goulding’s face, and Smith laughed. “See, he remembers me now.”

 

With a rush of panic and despair, Goulding leapt to action, letting his wine glass shatter on the marble floor. He started up the staircase only to freeze at a sound everyone knew. He looked up at the end of a cocked handgun, unable to hear the sounds of screaming guests.

 

“Please don’t worry!” Smith yelled over the commotion. “I assure you no one will be harmed tonight. Silence, please.”

 

Goulding fell onto his rear and closed his eyes. He did remember the man, but as a young lad of about 15 who worked near his own site. They’d spoken a few times. He’d reminded Goulding of his baby brother.

 

“Mr. Goulding was really a very bad worker. Lazy and proud,” Smith said with a rueful smile. “But he did get lucky in that someone successful worked near him. I was sixteen years old at the time, and worked in his area. And one day, I hit gold. Enough to make all my dreams come true.”

 

“Please,” Goulding began in a choked voice, still staring at the gun in the man’s hand. “I never meant--”

 

“I turned around, filled and yelling with a rush of delight,” Smith continued over Goulding’s pleas. “And this man came over the hill, looking like death. I held out my treasure, so he could see--I even held some out for him to take.

“But instead, a gunshot blasted through the wilderness. He left me for dead, but I saw him take my gold all the way out of sight.”

 

A gasp rippled through the guests, and Goulding couldn’t quite catch his breath.

 

Smith spun the gun in his hand. “I’ve been searching for you across the country,” he said with a little smile, and aimed squarely at Goulding.

 

“You--you said no one would be harmed!” Goulding said, panicking and scooting backwards on his rear.

 

“Oh, you’re quite right,” Smith said, face flushed with the rush of adrenaline. “I’m sorry, but I did lie. We’ll be even--except, of course, that I’ll finish the job.”

 

Goulding was paralyzed with fear, and then a shot rang out.

Reviews

[Fishbear]

That was amazing! All the sentences flowed really well, the dialogue was believable and I got a really good sense of Goulding's personality throughout. And even though I could kind of guess that Goulding had some past with Smith, I was still surprised by what happened and when he pulled out the gun my heart was racing. Really well done.

[Ninja'sMuse]

Thanks so much for the review! I appreciate it.