Chapter Five
In my junior year of high school, there was a story included in the English literature textbook. 'Impending Ache'. Most of the students in my class had always considered the story too morbid for their liking. 'Why are we being reminded of death? We're just kids.' they would say. I, without doubt, considered the story the best in the entire high school educational system.
The story, thoroughly, went into the details of the truth we all had to face. That death is inevitable, that we are all going to die someday. It went into the psyche behind the topic, using research to support the discoveries of the attitudes of people when their life could be seen ending in front of them, hanging by a thread.
One paragraph I remembered the most, was the one that explained how the promise of death, and a not so far one at that, changes the way a person thinks, acts or behaves. A tiger had the capability to behave like a mouse when held at gun point.
So, when the next morning sharp sunlight burned my eyes before I could even open them, I cracked open a sliver to find myself sleeping in the same position as I had been in since yesterday. I experienced a sudden jolt of memories of last night evade my painfully aching brain, I remembered the tale, and what I was going to be doing next.
That was the thing with me. I was always planning the next step, trying to contain the uncertainty that came with any thought of the future, or trying to prepare myself for it at least.
Slowly, I cracked open my second eye, hand coming up to protect it against the sharp light coming through the high windows set around the suite. The curtains had been drawn last night, and that was not the case now.
Someone had been in here while I was snoozing.
A slight groan escaping my lips, I slowly moved my body from its sleeping position. Every joint ached, every muscle protesting the movement. My eyes aching, and brain throbbing. Alcohol never did anyone any good. Still, so many were dependent on it.
Licking my dry lips, I looked around the living room. My glass, which had found its position at the table since last night's confusing events, had been removed. The whiskey bottle Mr. Intruder had placed on the floor, returned to its previous position on the bar.
The muddy haze that came with alcohol and waking up thinned a little, allowing my senses to function normally again. Muffled talking could be heard from somewhere in the suite, loud enough to drift around the place, but not enough to allow the words to be distinguished. Concentrating more, I discovered the voice to be coming from some backroom within the suite.
Reluctantly, I got up from the couch which had served as my bed, making my way towards the owner of the voice, swallowing in an attempt to sooth my dry throat. The early morning light was too harsh on my newly opened eyes, as I squinted and shuffled towards a well-furnished dining room, with an open floorplan kitchen set on my right. Two doors were present at the far end of the room, one of them slightly left open. A deep manly voice infiltrated the otherwise calm surrounding from behind the oak of the door.
The words could be made out by now. He was not merely talking, he was shouting, a frustrated tone coating his heavy words.
"And what makes them think they're more fit for the lead than me?" He stated tightly, "I was selected as the new leader because I’m capable. I took lead because Papa Riche chose me. If he had seen any god damn leading quality in any of those dumbasses, he would've selected them, not me."
He finished his sentence, heavily breathing as he heard the explanation of the person on the other end.
"Jeffrey, what does me not hooking up with someone different every single night like those assholes have anything to do with me being unfit as the boss? I am perfectly capable of smoothly running the casino without escorts finding their way to my room every night." A deep sigh accompanied his statement, words tightly wounded by never-ending frustration.
"Yeah I found the girl here last night." He said, a little softly. My feet inched more towards the door, as the conversation shifted towards me, leaning a tad on the dining chair, my muscles still not completely functional.
"No Jeffrey. I didn’t sleep with her." His tone afflicted up, as if offended by the made statement. "I was expected to? What do you mean?"
Expected? To sleep with me? My face scrunched up in confusion, leaning more on the chair to support my weight, not trusting my oddly fatigued muscles.
"Papa Riche sent her here so I could spend the night with her?" His tone lowered, almost like he didn't even want the walls to hear in on this part of the conversation. "No, I didn't know. I was just messing around. Papa Riche wouldn't support this dumb claim of me not being interested in cheap meaningless sex as me being unfit for the position."
Some rustling could be heard from inside the room, like he was moving around the space as he continued his conversation. A moment later, a slight thud was heard, as the call was put on speaker, a second voice emerging from the room.
"..... manage with her. He was really adamant Nova, saying something like 'Flemming could never go wrong with his daughter'." The voice of, what I guessed to be Jeffrey, was carried through the room as he spoke highly of my not-so-highly-to-be-spoken-of father. "Weird guy that Flemming, absolute drunk. And you know we never loan to alcoholics. But for some reason, when he came to meet Papa, he made an exception. I think he knew that guy from the past."
"Yeah well. Trying to set me up with the daughter of a long-lost alcoholic friend. Great move, Papa." Stated, Nova, taking into consideration the name used by Jeffrey, sarcastically. Movement could be heard from inside the room, as if he was getting dressed.
"I don't know mate. You yourself said Papa doesn't make a wrong decision, right? And for some reason, he really wants you to dine this girl. Rose, I think."
A muffled hum of agreement could be heard from inside the door. I moved my leaning arm from the chair, having lost all feeling in it from leaning on it for some time, settling on the other arm, still listening in on the conversation.
Jeffrey gave off a deep sigh before continuing. "Listen Nova. I know you're not one of those sleeping around kind of guys, but maybe make an exception. For your position. Do something that just proves it to everyone at the estate that you're like them. Maybe act like a man whore for a minute. I don't know, just do something. Please." Another sigh, then he added, "Oh and remember, if it has anything with that Flemming girl, you get bonus points plus unparalleled approval by Papa."
"Okay mate. I'll check in with you later." Said Nova, sounding closer to the door.
I instantly, but quietly dashed towards the door leading into the dining room, my body moving before I could comprehend. He didn't have to know I was listening in on his personal conversation. Who knows how he would act if he found out.
So, his life was just as messed up as mine. How odd. A small smile graced my lips. Maybe despite being in golden plated walls instead of rusty cracking ones, he too was struggling just the same as I was.