Chương 130: Chapter 129 – Party Foul

"Whatcha drinking there, Jethro?" Mordak asked, grinning like the Chesire cat.

"I'll take one of whatever you're having, sir," Jethro said, the hair on his neck standing up.

"Give me two," Mordak said, nodding at the bartender, before looking over at Jethro.

"You sure you can handle it, Jethro," he snickered.

"It's a man's man kinda drink. A word of advice, Jethro," Mordak added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Don't light up for at least half an hour after you drink that. Unless, of course, you want to become a rather… impressive flamethrower." His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. He laughed, handing Jethro the small glass.

"You certain you can handle it? Because I don't think you can." Jethro looked down at the drink apprehensively. What the hell is it? Gasoline? Paint Thinner? Jet fuel?

"I'm sure I will be fine, Mordak," he said, raising the glass to his lips then kicking back the contents in one shot. Mordak's smile vanished, replaced by a mask of exaggerated disdain.

"Jethro!" he barked, his voice carrying just enough to draw a few curious glances.

"That was meant to be savored, not swilled like cheap rotgut. Honestly, have you no class at all?" Jethro could barely make sense of what Mordak was saying. The drink exploded on Jethro's tongue, a searing inferno that ripped through his throat. His eyes stung, his vision blurring at the edges, and a wave of nausea slammed into him as his stomach began churning violently. He swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to vomit right there at Mordak's feet.

Mordak slapped Jethro hard on the back, causing him to take a large breath.

"Let that be a lesson to you Jethro, when in doubt, observe before doing," he said callously, taking a sip from his drink. Jethro forced a smile, "Thank you for your sage advice. I will definitely keep that in mind. I had assumed it was that whiskey you were telling me about at the golf course…" he replied, his voice raspy and hoarse.

"That's your problem Jethro!" Mordak interrupted, "you assume instead of question!" Mordak raised his glass to his lips and took a small sip, "Chuck, get my friend here another drink, if you wouldn't mind. Get him something with training wheels this time," he laughed. Chuck turned to Jethro.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"I'll have the same as last time." Jethro replied. I will show him I can drink with the big boys, he thought as he turned to Mordak.

"Fool me once…"

"That was all on you, Jethro!" Mordak interjected.

"I knew what I was drinking, not my fault you didn't ask."

"You're right sir," Jethro replied, taking the glass from the bartender.

"To making better choices," Jethro said, lifting his glass to Mordak before taking a sip.

"We should really get into the dinner before our wives serve us up. I don't know about your lovely wife Anita, but Viola will have no problem adding my head to the menu." Mordak said, turning toward the door leading to the house.

"Besides, you don't want to leave Anita in there alone with Franklin," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"He's… quite the ladies' man, wouldn't you say? Always knows how to make an impression," he clapped Jethro on the shoulder.

"Smells wonderful, doesn't it? Viola spent weeks coming up with the menu, I hope you find it to your liking," he said as he entered the dining room with Jethro by his side. Jethro entered the dining hall to find the seating already arranged. Approaching the main table, his eyes fell upon the head position, where Mordak sat with a commanding presence. To Mordak's left was an empty chair that was meant for him and to his right was Viola.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he noticed who was seated next to Viola. Franklin Wentworth. Then beside Wentworth? His wife Anita. He realized it wasn't just Wentworth next to Anita; Wentworth was positioned between Viola and Anita, creating a visual barrier and a clear separation between Jethro and his wife at the main table. Was this on purpose? Jethro wondered. He already felt like an outsider. Now he had the seating arrangement mocking him as well.

He was guided to his guest of honor seat on Mordak's left. He felt all eyes shift to him. He nodded politely to the many faces before sitting down and began nervously fidgeting with his napkin. The great hall had been transformed into a dazzling dining spectacle. The table had been draped in a pristine white linen cloth that stretched across the vast space. Every third chair was adorned with an intricate centerpiece of blooming orchids and flickering candlelight.

The soft glow of the candles danced upon the polished silver cutlery and the delicate crystal glassware, casting a warm and inviting ambiance over the room. Servers, clad in crisp, black uniforms, moved with practiced efficiency, their trays laden with platters of exquisitely arranged delicacies. The air was filled with a symphony of sounds: the gentle clinking of glasses, the murmur of lively conversations, and the soft, melodic strains of a string quartet playing in a distant corner.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Jethro seethed while forcing a smile to his lips as he watched Wentworth lean into Anita and whisper something that caused her to giggle. How dare he! he thought reaching for his glass.

"Jethro, loosen up, this is a party!" Mordak said, loudly.

"To Jethro!" he called out raising his glass to the table.

"To Jethro!" the crowd replied, holding their glasses up. Jethro squirmed, nervously smiling and nodding to the group. He hated being the center of attention. He glanced at Anita who was smiling brightly. Is that smile for me… or him? he wondered, taking a gulp of the noxious liquid in the glass. The more of it he drank, the easier it went down. Jethro had not noticed the server approaching the table, balancing a tray laden with steaming bowls.

The fragrant aroma of lobster bisque wafted through the air, briefly cutting through the haze of Jethro's anxious thoughts.

"Lobster bisque, sir," the server announced politely, placing a bowl before Jethro. The rich, creamy soup, garnished with a swirl of crème fraîche and a sprig of fresh dill, looked undeniably appetizing. Yet, even as he reached for his spoon, Jethro's eyes couldn't help but flicker towards the other side of the table, where Anita was still engaged in conversation. He took a hesitant spoonful, the velvety texture momentarily distracting him, but his unease remained a persistent undercurrent.

His stomach clenched with each spoonful. The creaminess turned to bitterness as he watched Wentworth lean into Anita again. He picked up his drink and finished the small amount that remained in the glass. He found that the burn of the alcohol did nothing to quench the fire that was beginning to rage within his soul.

"Jethro, is there something wrong with your bisque?" Mordak asked loudly enough for those around them to hear, as his eyes held Jethro's.

"You've barely touched it. Here you must try this Chateau deLeon. It's a particularly fine vintage, and pairs so well." he said, snapping his fingers, summoning the server to pour Jethro a glass. Jethro forced a smile and took a larger gulp of his wine, finishing it. He nodded to the server to get him another. He needed it to ease the tension that was starting to build, the alcohol blunted everything, making him comfortably numbed.

He noticed Wentworth engaged in an animated conversation with Anita, and Mordak's earlier comments about Wentworth's "impressions" echoed in his mind. He is too close to her, and she seems to be enjoying the attention, he thought, his jaw beginning to grind. The second course of sea bass was served, like a well-choreographed dance. Jethro found himself speaking a little louder than usual, his laughter echoing a bit too harshly amidst the general murmur.

He made a point of making toasts to Mordak, to the organization, to "future successes," each time draining his glass and signaling for another refill. He was now starting to feel lightheaded … but that was good, wasn't it? Lightheaded meant more relaxed, didn't it? Mordak stood up and began clanging his butterknife against his glass "Gentlemen, Ladies, may I have your attention please?" he called out over the group's buzzing conversations.

"Excuse me!" he yelled louder, ensuring he had their attention. The room fell silent as all heads turned to face Mordak.

"That's more like it," he said, placing his glass and knife back onto the table. He stood at the head of the table looking at the group. He looked directly at each person, watching them shift uncomfortably.

"As you all know," he began, looking down at Jethro.

"We are here tonight to celebrate my friend, Jethro, here," he said, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing tightly causing Jethro to grimace.

"Our new Executive Director of Research and Development." He released Jethro's shoulder and began applauding.

"How about a few words, Jethro?" Mordak asked, glaring down at him, stepping out of the way so Jethro could stand up. Jethro unsteadily got to his feet using the table and then the chair for support.

"Thank you, for this…."

"Speak up, Jethro, they can't hear you at the other end of the table!" Mordak interrupted.

"S.. ssorry." He mumbled.

"What?" Mordak asked loudly.

"Didn't catch that." Jethro cleared his throat then took a deep breath before continuing.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for this dinner to celebrate my new role," he said, finding the clear-headedness he needed to continue.

"I do not look at this as my success, but as a success for the organization on a whole… each and every one of us. I will bring new technology to Falotopia at an unprecedented rate… that will usher us into the future… ensuring that our people… will remain safe from alien invaders… of all varieties and species. I will find a way for us to… eradicate our enemies enabling us to expand our scope… and reach to bright, bold… new worlds."

"Enough," Mordak whispered.

"We will face the future with… promise and dignity as we move… forward with our endeavors to make… all of Falotopia prosper with the hopes of a…" he hiccupped unexpectedly.

"Oh, goodness, excuse me, where was I?" he asked, looking around the room at the blank faces.

"Oh yes… new tomorrow. For liberty, justice for all persons, may they be great or small. Tiny or large, alive or dead." Jethro said, ignoring Mordak. Mordak's jaw clenched, as his face began to flush with his normally orange complexion drifting toward red, "I said, enough, Jethro."

"One more thing… this is only the beginning… of a bright and beautiful future for… us all! With me in… in… charge of the Science… Science stuff…" Jethro continued.

"Thank you, Jethro!" Mordak exclaimed, clapping his hands. The group looked from one to the other confused by Jethro's speech before joining Mordak in his applause. Anita sat dumbfounded at the awkward way her husband rambled incoherently.

"Was that a dinner speech, or was he campaigning?" Wentworth asked Anita.

"I didn't realize he was running for Mordak's position as High Chancellor." Anita shot her husband a wide-eyed disgusted look before shaking her head and closing her eyes. Jethro, incredibly pleased with himself, fell more than sat onto the chair, grinning. He picked up his glass of wine and held it up to the group.

"To Mordak!" he cheered.

"Long may he reign!" he said, before hiccupping and draining his wine glass. The group hesitantly raised their glasses, eyes poised on Mordak. Mordak looked at the group before sighing and sitting down wordlessly, signaling the servers to begin the next course.