CHAPTER FOUR
Two days later, Jason sat before of a front gate that was even more ostentatious than the one that was at the Club, leaning slightly out of his window so that he could talk into the speaker attached to a river rock pillar supporting the gate.
"This is Jason Cross, I have an appointment with Mr. Simmons."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Simmons is expecting you. Please drive through the gates to the front and a valet will assist you."
The gates swung open and Jason started through, already taken aback by the completely overdone atmosphere of the home. Less than an hour from the city, the estate managed to feel like it was in another world. Though lovely in its own way, the sprawling home, somewhat crowded landscaping, and elaborate fountain at the front of the house had the overwhelming sense of "new money;" that feeling that Mr. Simmons had crafted the opulence for himself rather than growing into it throughout his life.
Just as the voice that came to him through the speaker had stated, a man in a pristine suit and white gloves stood on the bottom-most step of the home, his hands clasped in front of him as he awaited Jason's car. Even before Jason could turn his engine off, the man was opening his car door and gesturing for him to get out.
Jason climbed the steps of a home that was obviously only a few decades old but had been built to resemble an antebellum mansion and searched for a doorbell. When he didn't find one, he reached up and used a massive bronze knocker shaped like a pineapple to announce his presence.
"This is getting fun already," Jason whispered to himself, starting to see the first glimpses of the eccentricities of this man that Vincent had promised.
Only a moment after he knocked, the door opened. He half-expected there to be no one standing on the other side just as it was when he would visit his father in the den at the Club, but as he stepped forward, he noticed that a woman in a high-necked dress and frilly white apron stood almost behind the door.
"Mr. Simmons is waiting for you in the parlor," the woman said in a soft monotone, her eyes not moving from a doorway across the massive grey marble foyer.
Jason looked in the direction of her gaze and then back at her.
"Thank you," he said.
The woman nodded and moved around Jason to close the door. He turned to walk toward the parlor and noticed a statue of a dragon sitting at the base of the tremendous staircase that led up out of the foyer. He stared at it for a moment and then continued toward the parlor, wondering what he might discover when he entered the new room.
As soon as he stepped in, he noticed two more dragon statues flanking the inside of the door. These were slightly different from the one in the foyer, made of red marble rather than the dark material of the first. He was staring down at them when he heard a voice from further inside the room.
"Mr. Cross, I presume?"
Jason looked up and saw a man slightly younger than Mr. Kelsey standing near a cold, empty fireplace. He leaned on the mantle with one hand, the other tucked into the black lapel of a red smoking jacket embroidered with the willowy, curvy shapes of serpentine dragons.
"Um," Jason said, unsure of how he was supposed to respond to this man. "Yes. You can call me Jason."
The man who Jason assumed was Mr. Simmons turned to him slowly and brought the cigarette grasped between his fingers to his lips. Jason braced himself for some sort of dramatic billowing smoke display, but instead, Mr. Simmons took a bite out of the cigarette, chewed it for a moment, and then gave Jason a smile.
"Bubblegum," he said happily, starting toward him.
Jason couldn’t help but smile. Vincent had warned him that Mr. Simmons was eccentric, but he was proving to be even more unusual than Jason could have prepared for.
"I really appreciate you letting me come to your home to meet with you," Jason said, extending his hand as Mr. Simmons approached.
"Absolutely. Call me Neil. Let's sit."
Jason followed Neil's gesture to sit at one of the overstuffed chairs that rested on either side of a glass coffee table.
"Alright. Neil, I know that we spoke briefly on the phone, but I wanted to give you more information about this investment opportunity."
Jason placed his briefcase at his feet and released the latch on the top, reaching in to pull out the folder that contained his presentation about the park.
"Absolutely. Let's walk."
Neil bounded back up out of his chair and started toward the doors, removing the smoking jacket as he went so that he could hang it on a hook on the wall that Jason noticed was also shaped like a dragon. He was picking up on a theme in the house and it was making him distinctly uncomfortable.
They walked back through the foyer and Neil led Jason up the massive staircase to a hallway at the top. He turned into the first doorway and Jason followed him, trying to give the pitch that he had prepared, but found it harder to deliver effectively without the benefit of the pictures, news clippings, and charts that he had carefully tailored to demonstrate that this could be a potentially lucrative investment choice.
Jason felt like he was having to stretch a little bit further; be a bit more dramatic with how he spoke about the park and all of the opportunities that he saw for it, even if he wasn't entirely sure that he believed what he was saying himself. He wanted to believe it, though. He wanted to believe that he could help Mr. Kelsey take all of the enthusiasm, nostalgia, and faith that he had inside himself and somehow use it to transform his beloved park.
"This is my favorite spot in the house," Neil said.
Jason had been so busy talking that he hadn't really paid attention to his surroundings, but when he glanced up he realized they were walking through not a single room, but a long gallery that looked as though it had been crafted out of several rooms by removing dividing walls. Paintings covered the walls and Jason noticed that nearly all of them featured dragons. In the center of the wall to his left was a massive mural of a maze that looked remarkably like the one outside of the Club.
A twinge of discomfort twisted in his stomach and Jason tried his best to get a glimpse of the inside of Neil's wrist. Now that he had removed his smoking jacket, Neil was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, which would have allowed Jason to see whether or not Neil had a specific tattoo on his wrist, indicating that he was one of them. The older man shifted and Jason saw both wrists. Neither had the mark, which meant that he wasn't a dragon himself. That meant that he knew far too much about Jason's world, and that put him, and Jason, in danger.
"Is that alright with you, Jason?"
Jason jumped slightly at the sound of Neil's question, realizing that he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard what the older man had been saying to him.
"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" Jason asked.
"I was saying that you have me fairly well convinced of the whole thing, but I am no longer the only one who makes decisions about my investments. It seems that I have made one or two hasty decisions that my progeny did not appreciate, and now I've promised that I won't make any more investments without approval. You will have to impress Shayne and get approval before I can go ahead."
"And Shayne is?" Jason asked.
Neil gave a sigh and looked up at the huge painting with a spark of longing in his eyes that pushed Jason even further into his nervousness.
"Not nearly as easy to please as I am."