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Vikram Desai wasn’t an evil man, just a cowardly one too weak to resist temptations of the flesh and the lure of the bottle. It’s the reason why he had reignited his affair with Tess following their break-up, even after he'd begun dating his future wife, Karen. He loved the woman, but fidelity had never and would never be his strongpoint. This fact was further proven with the start of his second affair, that time with a sixteen year old high school student. He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had, but he'd become addicted to the way she made him feel, longing for her worshipful gaze, not realizing until later the error of his ways when the gaze turned heated with the flames of obsession.
The two had chanced upon each other at a bar, the second of his vices coming into play. He’d been drunk, letting off steam after an argument with his wife. He had tried to go to Tess for comfort, but ended up arguing with her as well, the guilt from their continued affair once again having reared its ugly head. It had caused her to lash out at him, pushing him away. Peeved with both women, he turned to the ever present constant in his life, alcohol, rum being his drink of choice.
He chose the bar at random, finding the first dark, out-of-town place he could before settling down on a stool for the night. It wasn’t until his fourth drink that he noticed her, standing off to the side and clearly out of place. From her movements, one could tell she was drunk, but her face was of someone much too young to be in an established such as this. He watched her, instinctively reaching for his glass as he pondered her presence. She was swaying to the music, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. She seemed to be alone, none of the other patrons of the bar paying her any mind. Having found the new target for his curiosity, Vikram downed the drink, resolving to approach her before the night was through.
“Aren’t you a little young to be in here?” he asked, words slightly slurred. It wasn’t his best line, but his handsome face and charismatic smile made up for the ineptitude of his approach. Vikram had always been able to use both to charm those of the opposite sex, sometimes even turning his assets on those of the same sex to get what he wanted.
Turning her attention to him, Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “How old do you think I am?” There was flirtation in her voice as her body stilled from its sluggish rhythm.
“Eighteen,” Vikram responded with a tilt of his head. He knew the girl couldn’t be a day over seventeen, but decided it would be more fun to humor her.
“Nineteen actually,” Phoebe lied, her eyes sweeping over the man in front of her. He was extremely attractive, his height and muscular built working to peak her interest. She smiled up at him sweetly, her mind thinking on all the things they could do together. It was about time that she put some truth behind the baseless rumors Regina had been spreading about her, she thought as she stepped closer to the stranger. “So what’s your name?” she asked, marking the beginning of their torrid affair.
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The cowardly portion of Vikram’s personality was exemplified by his refusal to take responsibility for his actions. As with most people possessing this character flaw, he found it much easier to lay the blame at someone else’s feet or simply run away. It’s what compelled him to coerce his son into confessing to the murder of Tara, and what drove his plot to fake his own death.
When he had come home early from work that afternoon five years ago, his sister had been the furthest thing from his mind. Longing for a drink and stressed out by his compromised business dealings Vikram had entered the house only to be accosted by the woman. She had intercepted him on his way to the liquor cabinet, upset by the fact that she had yet again been left in charge of babysitting Danny and his friends. Beginning an argument in a fit of jealous rage, she threatened to expose his every secret. Taking her threats seriously, Vikram took it upon himself to end her life before she could ruin his.
The entire event had been impromptu, leaving him at a loss for what to do with the body or how to cover his tracks, that was until he sensed the presence of his son. Beckoning the boy forward, a plan quickly formed in him mind. At that moment, his freedom was more important than his son’s future, and so Danny had to take the fall. Vikram was shocked by his own underhandedness, but left the feelings wash away with the sense of relief that fell over him. The boy would be fine, he reasoned with himself, justifying his actions in any way he could in order to ease his growing guilt.
As with most things, Vikram was wrong in his assertions. Danny wasn’t and wouldn’t be fine. That became increasing clear with every visit Vikram made to him in the juvenile detention center in the following months. With each weekly appointment, he watched his son grow from the boy he knew to a closed off adolescent, the light of innocent youth dimming in his eyes. He was being shaped by the deviants he interacted with each day, taking in their mannerisms and mindsets in order to survive.
The father and son had never spoken to each other about their emotions, most of their bonding being done over soccer games or projects, such as rocket modeling. With no games to be watched or shared projects to direction their conversations the two found themselves at a loss for words during a majority of their visits, looking awkwardly around one another as Vikram cautiously questioned Danny about his wellbeing. Vikram didn’t want to hear of Danny’s suffering, choosing instead to imagine everything in the juvenile detention center was fine, despite the changes he noticed occurring. Sensing this, Danny kept his responses shorts, skipping over the hardships he was enduring.
They kept up the façade for a time, Danny pretending to be fine and Vikram forcing himself to believe him, until the day that would be Vikram’s last visit. Danny had shown up to the visitation room with a black eye, the entire side of his face swollen and one hand heavily bandaged. This was the first time Vikram had seen evidence of the violence he refused to believe was happening. Struck by immense guilt, the man looked upon his son before quickly averting his eyes.
“What happened, Danny?” he asked voice low and ashamed. Suddenly plagued by the emotions he had been repressing since his son’s admission to the center, Vikram waited, chest tight, for his son’s response.
“Some boys jumped me.” Danny looked at his father, eyes hard, upset at the man’s continued refusal to look at him. “It’s fine, though. I was able to defend myself. They got the worst of it.” A smirk graced his lips as he thought of the altercation, proud of his actions. “Don’t worry dad. It was nothing. This isn’t enough to stop me from keeping my mouth shut,” Danny continued, voice turning bitter as he focused his attention back on his father. He glared at the man, their eyes finally meeting across the table, Vikram having turned to look at him, startled by his statement.
They held the heated gaze, Vikram’s face becoming stern as his jaw tensed. The two sized each other up, anger clear in both their faces. Danny clenched his fists tightly under the table causing pain to shoot up his arm from his recently battered hand. He hated his father, silently cursing the man for putting him in this position. Vikram, now startled by what he saw in Danny’s eyes, narrowed his gaze, wordlessly willing the boy to calm down and remain silent.
Danny was the first to end their showdown, the anger slowly draining from his body at his father’s look and his remembrance of the reasons why this burden was placed on him. For the sake of his friends he would endure his time here, counting down the days until he could see them again. Vikram’s face softened as he watched his son’s change in demeanor. Standing he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a show of support.
Their visit ended soon after, and Vikram never set foot in the juvenile detention center again, too guilt ridden and disturbed by the changes occurring in Danny to face him again.
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Vikram had never been a lucky man, but he enjoyed taking risks. He pushed his limits and never turned down a bet, though they almost never worked in his favor. This is what compelled him to falsify his company’s earning. He was sure that the business would begin to do well on its own if enough support could be gathered together. For that to happen, he had to make it seem as if the company was doing better than it really was. It was easy enough for him to persuade Samuel Porter, the accountant, to take part in the scheme, using his charm and a well placed confident smile to win the man over.
For a while the plan had worked, attracting more investors and generating huge revenues. As with all things dishonest though, the ride began dwindling down to an end, the authorities turning onto the companies less than legal business practices. That’s when Vikram decided it was time to jump ship, literally and figuratively. Faking his own death was extreme, but it would solve all of his problems while leaving him able to start anew. No longer would he have to deal with his depressed alcoholic wife, his son in juvenile detention, his first mistress’s guilt trips, his second mistress’s demands, or the business that would eventually lead to his arrest. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, Vikram put his plan into motion and then disappeared as best he could.