CHAPTER 1 - Life of the Party
Quick note: This is the first of three chapters of a story I'm still working on. There's a lot left to write and even more to edit, so the full story won't be uploaded until it's all complete. At that point, it'll go to a weekly schedule. If there's nothing in my bio that says otherwise, assume I'm still working on it and it hasn't been abandoned. For the rating, there's really nothing in these first three chapters that's explicit, but later ones will have some explicit content so eventually they'll all be marked as "adult" to be safe.
Gavin looked up at the massive tower, each of its shining windows in the night a taunting eye that judged his every move. An apartment complex, the building was technically called, but calling it that was the same as suggesting that there was no difference between sludge water and crystal clear, filtered water just because they were both water. As someone far more used to the former, he found it difficult to rationalize the idea that the place he was looking at was anything less than a castle of royals reaching high into the sky to give them a better look at the lowly peasants down below. Being tall himself at just over six feet, he wasn't used to being physically looked down on.
It felt highly unpleasant.
Still, he'd made sure he looked the part tonight. A crisp tuxedo, his best smile, and a light, confident walk he'd practiced endlessly would ensure he didn't stand out amongst the upper tiers of society. While his mind tried to remind him without end that he didn't belong there, he took each of those thoughts and tossed them out of a window higher than the ones in front of him. He had every right to attend, as much as anyone else that was going. If someone had a problem with it…well, he'd deal with that when it happened.
He followed a group of women up to the tower's glass revolving doors. They were chatting excitedly, though not about anything he felt he could relate to.
“Do you think the new owner is a beautiful young woman? Oh, I spent so long picking out the perfect dress for tonight, she'll have to notice me!"
“Who knows? It could be, or it could be a creepy old man. Honestly, I just want to know how they got everything set up so fast. A month ago, that penthouse was as empty as the bank account of that cashier who tried to take me to court the other day, and now it's bustling like someone's been living there for ages!"
“With enough money anything is possible, and if you live up there, you definitely have money. I had my vacation home in Barbados built in a week, I just had to make sure the builders were given enough compensation."
“...I would hire a few inspectors, Margaret."
“Oh, I did! I hired twenty different ones, in fact! All said it was the most marvelously built home they had ever seen! Maybe there really is something to those calls for paying workers more!"
“Don't tell that cashier, he'll start getting ideas!"
The reception area alone seemed determined to scare away any of the peasants who hadn't been intimidated by the exterior. Aside from being larger than his own apartment, the floor was so spotless and shiny that Gavin felt guilty just walking on it. The group of women ahead of him didn't seem to care, however, and strutted up to the reception desk ahead. Circular with dark, pristine wood, it stood in the center of the room with attendants facing all directions. While he waited for them to finish their business, Gavin took in the rest of the reception area. It had a waiting area back and to the right with plush chairs, bookcases, and pitchers of clear water and bowls of light snacks on small tables next to them. A few potted plants had been placed around it, as well as by the reception desk, though they were short and none of them looked like they would reach past his stomach. Hanging above from some kind of wire was a massive piece of abstract art Gavin didn't understand but assumed had a meaning, probably, so he would be better off not asking unless he wanted to feel stupid. To the left were the elevators where the “royals" living in the complex were coming and going without a care. A small queue had formed outside them, likely all people heading to the same place Gavin was. He saw a door marked “Stairs" near the back, and a few other unmarked doors scattered around that were probably only for staff.
Finally done, the group of women moved on. Gavin smiled and approached the receptionist, a rather short wolf. She looked tired, and though she smiled back, he could see each of her movements was slow and forced.
“Welcome to Kingsview. May I ask who you're visiting tonight?" she asked.
“Of course. I'm here for the party on the top floor. I have an invitation," he said, pulling a sealed envelope out of his pocket.
She nodded. “Of course. Just write your name, date of birth, and address in the guest book, then head over to those elevators and take them up. There's someone up there who'll check your invitation."
“Perfect, thank you," he said politely. He stowed the invitation and scribbled a name, birthday, and address in the guest book.
Gavin Ashworth.
3/15/1995.
72 Main Street.
He smiled at her. “I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!"
The receptionist eyed the crowd behind him. “...you too. Thank you!"
He caught up to the group of women who were laughing daintily amongst themselves about something or other. He didn't really care to find out what and assumed doing so would only be an unpleasant experience. He entered the elevator with them and pushed himself into the corner while watching the floor counter go up, and up, and up…
Finally, the doors opened into a small room with two doors, one on the right and another ahead. Standing in front of the door ahead and flanked by potted plants on either side was a thin fox. With pristine, blindingly white fur, a flawless face, kind smile, and gentle eyes, one of which was icy blue and the other emerald green, he was impossibly beautiful and even more impossibly perfect. His hair was a little long, just enough to tie up in the back, and though it could easily fall into his eyes, it refused to get in the way no matter how much he moved his head. He wore a black coat with a long tail and a perfectly tailored suit under it, and although he carried himself as though he had done this job for many years, he couldn't have been older than thirty or so which put him at only a couple of years ahead of Gavin. Four years ahead, he guessed.
“Good evening," the man said, bowing. He spoke with a posh, remarkably clear British accent. Maybe the new owners were British, he figured, or could you import butlers? “You all look quite lovely tonight. Might I have your names so that I can cross them off the guest list?"
“Well, aren't you a nice man," said one of the women playfully. “And so young for your role, too! How old are you, handsome?"
“I am thirty-one years old, my good lady," he answered. “Your names, please."
Gavin smirked. Four years, on the dot.
The women listed them one-by-one. He recognized a few of the last names, one of which belonged to a family that owned a major grocery store chain in the city. Another belonged to the wife of a man he knew owned a number of for-profit prisons. He couldn't put his finger on where he had heard the last name, though he felt like she had something to do with technology.
The fox took out a piece of paper from his coat pocket and examined it for a second before nodding. “Ah, there you are. On behalf of My Lord, I bid you the warmest of welcomes."
“And just who is your lord?" one of the women teased.
“Only the most wonderful, generous man I've ever had the pleasure to meet," he smiled. “Please enjoy yourselves, and let me know if there is anything I can do for you."
The women slipped past him. It was now Gavin's turn. He straightened his jacket and stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Good evening, sir. May I have your name, please?" the man asked.
“Good evening. My name is Gavin Ashworth," said Gavin.
“Mr. Ashworth? Let's see…Mr. Gavin Ashworth, jaguar with black fur, short red hair, gold eyes…"
Was it normal to keep notes about guest appearances? Gavin had no idea but found it slightly creepy regardless.
He shook his head. “I'm sorry, sir, but I don't see you on the list nor do I see anyone with your description. If you are not on here, I'm afraid I cannot let you in. It is a private affair, after all."
Gavin reached into his pocket and pulled out the invitation. He handed it over with a smile. “I figured that would be the case. You see, I'm a friend of Edward Coil's grandson. Mr. Coil couldn't make it, so he asked his grandson to go. When he wasn't interested, they asked me to come instead since they knew I enjoy such grand parties, and…well, to be honest, my living circumstances don't give me the chance to go to things like this very often. This is the invitation you had sent him."
“Ah, Edward Coil, founder of the Spiral Candy Company. I do remember extending an invitation to him." The man opened the letter. “...everything here seems to be in order. This is, indeed, Mr. Coil's invitation, and it's true I never received confirmation from him that he was coming. I wondered why, but this would certainly explain it. It's strange, though…I was not aware he had a grandson." He peered at Gavin over the top of the paper. “Mainly because Mr. Coil never married, and so he has never had children."
“Yes, he has never married, but…" Gavin grimaced, looked back to make sure there was at least some distance between them and the next person waiting in line, and then beckoned for the man to come closer while speaking his next words quietly. “You know how young men can be sometimes. He might have had a few…experiences in his younger days. He's got a number of children and grandkids, but he doesn't like to make it public. He doesn't want to tarnish his wholesome image. Imagine the scandal if everyone knew that he had illegitimate children." He paused. “Um…please don't tell anyone. I'm not actually sure I should have told you that."
The fox looked over the invitation once more. “My silence is guaranteed, sir. Very well, you may enter. I will hold onto this as you no longer need it. Please give my regards to Mr. Coil when you next see him, and enjoy yourself while you're here. That is the entire reason you came, after all."
He didn't like the fox's expression, and he felt tiny as those cold eyes seemed to pierce right through him even though he knew he hadn't done anything to earn it. Not only that, the longer he stayed around the man, the more uncomfortable Gavin felt. It was like something in the back of his mind was desperately trying to get his attention, but he couldn't remotely figure out what he was supposed to be paying attention to.
Ignoring the strange sensation, Gavin forced another smile, thanked him, and stepped past him into the penthouse.
“Woah…" he said under his breath. Just like the reception area, the next room alone was bigger than his entire apartment; immediately to the left was a bar stocked so fully that there wasn't a single spot open on the racks hung on the wall and manned by a cheerful male hyena, although Gavin was positive he couldn't put a name to a single bottle. He doubted dollar store wine was being carried, after all. Nearby, a long table had been set up and stacked with mounds of food from which someone would occasionally take miniscule amounts from. Some of it, he recognized. Some, he could only guess as none of it was labeled.
Straight ahead, past a few strange paintings Gavin couldn't make sense of and a few more plants, there were two ways to go: to the left was a room with an open arch as a door. Inside, he found a few guests politely relaxing on the plush sofas (as there were two, one facing the doorway and another facing the TV hung on the wall to the right). Behind them, he saw two bookcases filled with books he doubted he was smart enough to read, though a few guests seemed to have the required intelligence and were already reading. A miniscule bathroom connected to the room on the far left side, barely large enough to do what one needed to do. He'd expected rich people to have enormous bathrooms, but maybe the stereotype was just that.
Leaving the living room (at least, he assumed that's what it was even though there was probably some fancy name for it), he took the other path forward and came to another living area. This one was about twice the size of the other and far more open; towards the back, there was another sofa and a glass coffee table placed in front of a massive wall of glass that allowed a clear view over the entire city. He made his way over and looked out, which was a mistake; although he wasn't afraid of heights, he still felt a little dizzy being this high up. The cars below were little more than tiny dots of light going in various directions, and even his eyes, sharp as they were, couldn't see the details of anyone on the streets or sidewalks. They were simply tiny little blobs, going about their tiny little blob days. Maybe that was why rich people were the way they were. It was easy to forget those blobs were people from up here.
Moving on from the nausea inducing sight (and thoughts), he continued to explore. A staircase with white steps and shining silver handrails spiraled up to the second floor but had a rope and sign over the front that read, “No entry, please". Past that to the right when facing the penthouse's entrance was another hallway that led to an extravagant bedroom presumably no one was using, otherwise it wouldn't be open, and a glass door to an outside patio, though “garden" might be more appropriate. An arch covered in vines and flowers the moment he opened the door, tables with umbrellas next to a graceful fountain, hedges and flowers forming paths, and even a hot tub overlooking the city made it somewhere he could definitely see people wanting to spend their free time. It was a little cold to spend too long outside at the moment, though, and there seemed to be an endless stream of strong wind for some reason which only made it worse.
Back in the main living room, another open arch on the right side led to an extravagant dining room. The table had a cloth that was so white and pristine it was almost blinding, and a few cabinets with decorative plates and cups stood against the walls. He'd never understood the point of that. If you had something fancy, why not use it? The dining room then connected to a kitchen with multiple stoves, sinks, and fridges (all of which being highly polished). Whatever the occasion, there was easily enough power in the room to handle any dining needs.
Having seen all there was to see on the current floor, he made his way back out to the main living area. Getting a closer look at the upper floors wasn't an option, so instead Gavin made his way back to the table of food. Even if he didn't know what most of it was, he had to admit that it all looked utterly delicious, and very little of it was food he could get anywhere else as his budget often limited him to the local fast food restaurant, and that was if he was lucky-
“Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said quickly as he accidentally bumped shoulders with a young man in a tuxedo. He was a cheetah, about Gavin's age and just slightly shorter. Unlike everyone else, his face was pleasant and relaxed, like he was actually enjoying himself and not simply there to check off a box.
“No worries!" he said with a wink. Even his voice was carefree. Before Gavin could say anything else, the young man had already walked off and vanished into the crowd.
“...huh," said Gavin. He had a strange feeling about the encounter. It was odd seeing someone so different from how the others in attendance were acting.
Still, he decided to let it go and continue what he was doing. He doubted he'd see him again, after all. There were too many people here, and he wasn't even sure how long he'd stay. More importantly, it'd been a while since he'd eaten. Although it didn't look like the food was going anywhere, especially with how little everyone else was taking per plate, he figured he might as well eat now in case he couldn't later. He then noticed a massive serving platter of what looked like small black pearls next to stacks of crisp, fresh bread. Gavin hesitantly approached, wondering if this was the “caviar" he sometimes heard about. He had never understood why anyone would want to eat fish eggs, and they certainly did not look appetizing.
“What are you waiting for? They're going to hatch with how long you've been standing there!"
Gavin jumped slightly, thankful he was not close enough to the table to knock something over. A young woman had approached him. Her wavy light blue gown shimmered in the light as though made of water, and her fur was a deep gold. Although she was extraordinarily beautiful, he could not quite tell if she was a canine or feline. She seemed to have aspects of both, with her delicate facial features resembling a feline but her ears and tail being closer to that of a canine. However, unlike Gavin's, her nails were carefully cut close to her finger and not remotely sharp.
“Oh, both my father and mother have softer facial features that resemble felines, so even though I'm not one, it does give me that appearance to a degree" she explained, noticing his confused stare. “I get that look a lot, but I'm quite used to it by now. Genetics are rather strange, yes?"
“Yes…I suppose they are," Gavin replied.
“Well? Are you going to eat or not?" she asked, pointing to the caviar. “Surely you didn't come all this way to not eat anything. You have tried caviar before, I assume?"
“Oh, yes!" Gavin lied. “Of course I have! It's quite wonderful."
The woman smirked. “Well then, what are you waiting for? I promise it isn't poisoned. Well, I suppose I don't know that for sure, but if it makes you feel better I'll go first."
She grabbed a piece of bread and placed some caviar on top, closing her eyes as she took a bite. “Mmm…delicious! I do love caviar…ah, and there does not seem to be any poison. Your turn!"
Cursing this woman, he took some bread and attempted to mimic the amount of caviar she had served herself. The smell was not nearly as heavy as he expected; there was only the slightest hint of oil upon the black eggs. He took a deep breath, bit into the bread…and was pleasantly surprised. It was not something he felt was worth the hype, but he couldn't help but think that it wasn't bad at all. It didn't taste as fishy as he had thought it would, and instead it gave a pleasant, buttery sensation that lingered on his tongue after the pearls had been swallowed.
“See? I told you it was fine," the woman giggled. “I must admit, this is the first time I've had beluga caviar, but it lives up to its reputation."
Gavin nearly choked on his second bite. “B-beluga!? Like the whale!?"
The woman stared at him before laughing quite daintily. “Oh, no! Are you new to this? Just recently got your inheritance, maybe? I'll enlighten you, then: there are various types of caviar, but beluga caviar comes from the beluga sturgeon, not the beluga whale. Besides, whales are mammals, remember? They don't lay eggs. I hope your parents didn't pay too much for whatever private school you attended as it does not seem to have done much for you."
He knew, of course, that whales did not lay eggs. Even he wasn't that unintelligent, but the name (as well as the fact that caviar was not as distasteful as he expected it'd be) threw him off guard.
“Yes, I know. I was just rather amazed at finally getting the opportunity to try it. Like you, I've never had the chance. I…did not come into my inheritance, no," he sighed. “My friend's grandfather was invited, but he didn't want to come, so he gave the invitation to my friend. When he didn't want to come, they gave it to me. I'm embarrassed to say this, but I come from…very modest means, let's say, so I'm still new to all of this. Perhaps you could show me how it's all done?" he asked.
“I would be delighted to! And please, there's no shame in having a modest life. Honestly, some of us could do with a reminder as to what it's like. Oh, but I would suggest finishing that first. Even amongst the upper class, beluga caviar is rare," she said.
“Oh? How come?"
“Well, it's actually illegal for anyone to sell it in this country except for one specific company. For reasons you can probably guess, it was overfished, so it's more expensive and harder to obtain than other types because of that. Most of us don't mind the price, of course, but Ossetra caviar is quite similar in taste and easier to acquire, so there generally is no reason to choose beluga caviar over Ossetra." She sighed happily. “Although, now that I've tried it, I'm beginning to understand why it's coveted…"
Even though he was positive he did not want to know the answer, he asked, “...so how much is beluga caviar, anyway?"
“Oh, not that much all things considered. I believe the current market price is somewhere around $150 per ounce."
Gavin nearly choked on his final bite of caviar. “$150 per ounce?"
“I know! It's much cheaper than you would expect, right?" said the woman earnestly. “A pound of it is only about $2,500! You'd think for such a rare delicacy, it would cost far more-oh. Right. Modest means. I guess that's quite a lot in your case. I apologize."
He stared in disbelief at the massive mound of caviar. Just the amount in front of him cost several thousand dollars, and there was probably more in a storeroom somewhere in case they ran out during the night. What the host had spent on caviar alone was enough for him to eat semi-healthy meals for an entire year or even pay rent for a while if he did it right, and they were spending it as though it were nothing.
Gavin bowed politely to the woman. “It's alright. Since I'm new to this sort of thing, I want to take this chance to learn all I can. I would be honored if someone as prestigious, and dare I say beautiful, as you would show me around. Please, instruct me regarding how I should behave now that I'm among the more elite members of society."
“Oh, you're quite the charmer, aren't you?" she giggled. “Shame I'm not into men, but if I were, that certainly would have worked on me. Very well. Follow me, we'll stop by the parlor first," she said. “Oh, and my name is Olivia, by the way. Olivia Fuentes. I'd ask if you've heard of me, but I feel it is best to assume you haven't. I own Crystal Springs, one of the largest landscaping companies in the world. We specifically do architectural landscaping, creating parks and roads, decorating the outside of buildings, that sort of thing. I also work for another organization in my spare time, but you certainly haven't heard of it. They're a bit of a ghost in the business world, but the work is important nonetheless. What's your name?"
Gavin smiled. “My name. Right. It's Gavin Ashworth," he said. “I wish my family was anything to talk about. The highest position anyone's achieved was assistant manager at a department store. Um…I'm sorry if this is rude, but aren't you quite young to own your own company?"
Olivia wagged a finger at him teasingly. “Uh-uh-uh. Rule number one, Mr. Ashworth. Don't assume anything about anybody. You never want to get on someone's bad side on this end of the economic ladder, and assuming things about them will often do just that. When facing someone more powerful than you are, you simply agree with what they tell you without hesitation…and then plot their downfall in your spare time. Now, come with me. We need something before we enter the parlor."
“What would that be?"
She led him over to the bar and examined the bottles closely. “Wine. Let's see…Tusk Estate, a few Ghost Horse Vineyards, quite lovely, I've always been partial to Fantome but I suppose Spectre is a valid choice. What else do we have-"
Olivia froze. She pointed to one of the dark colored bottles and asked the bartender if she could see it. He held it out to her, and she carefully took it in her hands, staring intensely at it. Gavin saw nothing unremarkable; it didn't even have a label on the front, though there was one wrapped around the bottle's neck. From where he was, he could just barely make out the words “Goût Américain" on one side and “Heidsieck" on the other once she had turned it.
“Uh…gout? Isn't that a disease? I wouldn't drink that," said Gavin.
She looked up with surprise as though she had forgotten he was there. “No, no. It's French for 'American Taste'." She returned her attention to the bottle. “Goût Américain…what a fool…" she muttered.
“Is it…any good?" Gavin asked.
She immediately put the bottle down.
“No. We'll find something else."
Her sudden reaction startled him. Why had she suddenly become so defensive about wine? Was it really all that important to choose the correct one?
“Do you prefer white or red wine?" she asked.
Although he actually did have an answer, he wasn't sure it was the correct one. Noticing his hesitation, Olivia laughed.
“There is no wrong choice at the moment," she assured him. “Now, should you decide to eat, your choice of wine would dictate what you serve yourself. Take a glass of white wine and some steak, and you will often get some strange looks. Choose red wine and a light meat such as chicken, and people will wonder if you know what you're doing. The rules are rather complicated, I admit, especially since there are exceptions to what I just said, but you'll learn them in time. A good starting point is to pair red wines with darker, fattier meats and white wines with lighter meats and creamy or sweet dishes. So, what do you prefer?"
“I actually really like red wines, but that makes sense now that you've explained the rules to me. I enjoy fattier meats, you see. Steak, ribs, that sort of thing, and I'm not really a fan of chicken. While I rarely drink wine with my meals, perhaps I made the connection on my own without realizing it," he said.
Olivia smiled and examined the bottles again. She soon asked for a glass of red wine that Gavin figured was probably worth more than he was. “Here we are. I see the host put out a Merlot. Not what I would call 'high-class', but Miani is close enough for our purposes, and it may be best to start you off with something less…complex. I'm partial to white wines, myself, so I'll have…ah! Romanée-Conti! I haven't had that in ages, that'll do nicely!"
Upon receiving her glass and looking at how Gavin was holding his as he took a sip, Olivia sighed and shook her head.
“No, no, no. Mr. Ashworth, I know you are new to this, but must I teach you everything?"
“What is it?" he asked. “I…am supposed to drink this, right?"
“Yes, but you're holding it by the bowl, not the stem."
“What does that have to do with anything?"
Olivia turned around and took a deep breath to compose herself. “I am far too generous for my own good…" she said quietly. She faced him once again. “Mr. Ashworth, red wines and white wines require different glasses, and then the different types of each require their own glasses as well. Further, you hold each glass in a specific way. Again, so as not to confuse you, simply remember that red wines require glasses with larger bowls, like what you are carrying. To do it correctly, carry it by the stem, not underneath the bowl; it's not brandy, for goodness sake. White wines require smaller, more slender bowls. There are specific exceptions, for example a chardonnay glass is wide, similar to a red wine glass, while a Bordeaux has a slimmer glass, and there are specific glasses for red wines as well…and I see I've already lost you, so just focus on the basics. Red wine, big glass. White wine, thin glass. Hold larger glasses by the stem. How you're holding it? Wrong."
Once she was satisfied that he held his drink correctly and instructed him on how to properly drink from it (she insisted it was important), she said they were finally ready to go to the parlor.
Gavin wondered what he'd gotten himself into as he followed Olivia into the parlor he'd briefly glanced at earlier. The sofa facing the entrance was now occupied by two people with rather enormous dresses while two others were absorbed in a game of chess, though why anyone would go to a party just to play chess was beyond him. A few simply stood about, chatting with each other. They mostly kept their voices down, though Gavin was able to catch a few bits of conversation. Something about their wife's jewelry going missing the other day and they suspected the maid, or how their employees were asking for more pay again. Nothing particularly relevant.
“So, Mr. Ashworth. Here is your first formal lesson," said Olivia. “Do me a favor and tell me what you notice about this parlor."
It didn't take long for Gavin to figure out what she meant; every so often, even if they were in the middle of a sentence, people's eyes would dart towards the two of them for just a second, or they would move their heads to scratch the side and make a cursory glance as they did so. It was not just towards them, however, as further observation revealed that this happened to the others in the room. For whatever reason, every person present was carefully watching everyone else, and they did not want to make it obvious.
“They're all watching us…and each other. Why?" Gavin asked, making sure to keep his voice quiet.
“Very good, you picked it up much faster than I had anticipated," said Olivia, just as quietly. “You see, there are two types of people in this world: people who can get you what you want, and people who can get in your way. You can never know which someone will be at first, and when you're in a powerful position, there's a lot to lose if you make even a single mistake. Therefore, you have to keep a close eye on the people around you and learn what they're thinking before they even think it. Quickly, take a sip of your drink, just like I showed you. It's been too long since you have, and they'll suspect you otherwise."
Gavin calmly drank some of his wine. He was no stranger to having all eyes on him, but he found it rather ridiculous that he was being forced to play such an unnecessarily complex game when there was truly no need for most of the things he had been taught.
“I see that look on your face, Mr. Ashworth," Olivia smiled. “You're rather irritated with all of this. I understand."
“With as much respect as I can give, I'm not sure you do," Gavin replied. “Isn't this exhausting, having to live every day seeing everyone else around you as an enemy that could destroy your entire life if you screw up just once? Isn't it tiring having to play these meaningless games just to be given some level of arbitrary acceptance? Why would you choose to live this way when you can easily have a comfortable, relaxing life?"
“Very few of us do. This is the game we are born into, and so it's one we learn how to play very quickly whether we want to or not," she answered. “On that note, let's move on to lesson number two." She cleared her throat and spoke her next words at a normal, if not slightly louder than usual, volume. “Tell me, what do you know about the owner of this penthouse?"
“Not much," he said, assuming he should stop whispering as well. “Like I said, my invitation wasn't even meant for me; I acquired it through a friend who gave it to me. All I know is that this place hadn't been occupied for ages, and now it looks like it had never been abandoned at all."
“Fascinating. That aside, this truly is lovely weather we're having, is it not?" Olivia asked.
“...what?"
She glanced at the others around her before leaning in. “Lesson one-and-a-half, I suppose: if something doesn't make sense, roll with it until it does." She returned to her former position. “Yes, this weather is truly spectacular. I heard we were supposed to get rain this weekend, but it seems we're in for a lot of sun."
“Um…yes, I did hear that. It's a shame, really, I quite enjoy rainy days. It's very relaxing," said Gavin, not sure what he was supposed to be getting from this.
Olivia nodded. “I cannot argue with you there. It is quite nice to listen to the sound of the rain outside. Sitting by the fire with a nice book and a cup of tea while it rains is truly one of life's greatest pleasures."
Gavin paused. Why did she emphasize the word “listen"? Was he supposed to be getting something from her words?
Or, perhaps, it was not her that he was supposed to be listening to.
“Yes, I quite agree. I haven't had the chance to pick up a book recently, though. Have you read anything good lately?" he asked. Right before Olivia answered, Gavin's ears perked up as he heard a small piece of the conversation from another group in the room.
“...might as well have been fixed up overnight."
“No, sadly," Olivia sighed. “It's hard to find time to read these days. What about you?"
“...haven't met them, even though I've been here since the event began."
Gavin tried to think of the most high-class book he could. “Hmm…well, I did recently pick up Pride and Prejudice again. I think it's charming in its own way."
Olivia gave him a look that plainly said, “Seriously?" but she chose to not voice her thoughts, instead saying aloud, “I agree, it was quite the delightful book. I find it humorous how Elizabeth would likely sell Mr. Darcy for a piece of toast and yet he is convinced her attitude means she is madly in love with him."
“...can't even afford this place, so if I can't, who is it that could?"
“From my experience, men tend to take any kind of attention as a sign that you're in love with them," said Gavin.
“I wouldn't know, but that sounds utterly dreadful," she laughed. “Then again, I suppose women can be just the same. I can name several who fit that description off the top of my head. Still, I'm sorry, Mr. Ashworth. I'm sure you'll find a good man someday. Perhaps he's closer than you think."
“...invited the most powerful people around and won't even grace us with their presence."
Gavin took another sip of his wine. “Somehow, I doubt that. Besides, dating is too much of a hassle, so I've more or less given up on it. It's the single life for me."
“Who in the world invited us here?"
Olivia smirked. “As long as it's your decision and not a choice you feel has been forced on you." She drank some more wine and casually glanced around the room. “Well, Mr. Ashworth? Did you get everything you needed out of this conversation?"
“I believe I did," Gavin responded carefully.
“Good. Follow me and we'll discuss it further."
Now back in the main living room where it was easier to have their own conversation without being overheard, as well as harder to overhear anyone else's conversations, Olivia turned to him and smiled.
“I hope you enjoyed your lesson. You can always pick up information if you just head to where people are relaxing and pretend you aren't listening. If you do it right, you can even subtly push them into talking about what you need. It was easy this time, most of them were curious about it anyway, but it won't always be that simple. So, what did you learn?" she asked.
“No one knows who owns this place," said Gavin. “They received invitations, but my guess is they'd either never heard of the person who signed them or there was no signature at all. Seems kind of odd, coming to a party of someone you've never even heard of, but I'm starting to learn that rich people don't always view things the way a normal person does."
Olivia crossed her arms. “And what does that mean?"
“Oh, nothing! I'm sorry, that came out wrong!" said Gavin quickly.
“Don't worry about it. I was kidding, you're right that many people of higher status are rather ridiculous. Anyway, what else did you learn?"
“It sounded like this place is so expensive that even rich people can't afford it."
“It is. It took a while for me to even get the cost, and I had to sit down for a moment when I finally did. I'm far from struggling financially, but it's a bit costly even for me. Now, put all of it together. What does it mean?"
Gavin shrugged. “I have no idea. An abandoned penthouse with a rather high cost, even to the rich, is suddenly rejuvenated, and the owner throws a party for the most influential people they can find. These people show up, but the owner refuses to make themselves known. If I had to guess, they're either a charitable recluse or someone with a superiority complex who wanted to announce that they've arrived but that feels everyone else isn't worth their time."
“Pardon me. I hope I'm not interrupting."
As though he had appeared out of thin air, the fox from earlier was now standing beside them, his hand over his heart. He bowed his head to the two of them.
“Of course not," said Olivia. “Is there something you need, sir?"
“Not exactly, I had simply come over to tell you that we have procured a rather rare white wine this evening, and as I had taken it upon myself to learn as much as possible about our guests tonight, I discovered that you had a fondness for them. Would you perhaps like to try it, Miss Fuentes?" he asked.
“I most certainly would! Please excuse me, Mr. Ashworth. We'll continue our lessons later, though I admit, you're quite promising. We'll make a socialite out of you soon enough," said Olivia.
The fox bowed to Gavin again. “Please excuse us, and take this as an opportunity to get to know your surroundings. There is much to see, after all."
He led Olivia over to the bar, leaving Gavin alone. Now that the butler and Olivia were occupied, his eyes drifted to the stairs and the minor barrier blocking them. His curiosity getting the better of him, and getting tired of the constant noise, he calmly went over to it, unhooked the rope, and stepped onto the staircase. He then reattached it and proceeded up the stairs while keeping an eye on the butler who was still occupied with Olivia. He'd learned a long time ago that it was easy to get away with almost anything as long as it was done with confidence. On the off chance anyone he didn't already know was even paying attention to him, they'd probably just think he was asked to go up there.
The second floor, having no guests, was far more peaceful than the first though no less fancy; straight ahead, through another wall of glass, was a deck and an outdoor pool. He couldn't begin to guess how that worked or how much effort it was to get all that water up there, but he'd never been one for swimming, so he was hardly an expert. Behind him was a small seating area looking over the city, again making it all too easy to forget that the miniscule blips of light below weren't just insects scurrying about. Whoever the owner was, they clearly liked looking down on people. On the left and right were hallways, and by the right hall there was a small alcove with a sofa and a massive TV. Why someone needed more than one television, he couldn't begin to guess. The left hallway didn't help; through there he found what he assumed was a room specifically for video games with, yet again, a massive TV and countless shelves of games. He knew almost nothing about video games, but he knew enough to tell some of them were for consoles decades old, and looking a little more revealed a cabinet filled with said consoles as well as newer ones. This came as somewhat of a surprise, especially since none of the consoles were covered in dust which meant they were in active use. It made sense for them to be a collector, probably, but someone who clearly enjoyed playing them wasn't quite what he expected.
Moving on to the right hallway, Gavin found a completely empty room, another alcove with a staircase to a third floor (how many floors did this place have?), and a set of glass doors leading to another small deck. He'd just considered going upstairs when the reality of the situation hit him: at a party filled with some of the richest people around, how could there be no one to keep the guests in line? How could there be no obvious security systems? Even middle-class houses all had that rather alarming doorbell that spied on anyone who approached these days, yet he'd seen nothing of the sort so far. Cameras could be hidden, of course, but surely there should, at the very least, still be some sort of security team for the event. They couldn't be in disguise; undercover officers were hardly as subtle as they wanted to believe they were. Besides, it'd make more sense to have someone guarding the stairs in case they tried to do exactly what Gavin just did, but there was nothing stopping him except a flimsy rope.
That being said, it was better to not push his luck. Although it wasn't like he had plans to do anything the owner would find distasteful, it would be hard to convince them of this if he were caught. So, instead of going upstairs, he went back to the stairs leading down-
“...huh?"
On the right, just before the stairs, was a door he didn't remember seeing when he came up. It looked perfectly normal, which may have been why it escaped his notice. In a place where everything was extravagant, a normal-looking door would be the last thing he wanted to look at. Since he was already there, he reached for the door's handle-
Suddenly, a flash of silver raced towards him. He looked up, panicking, and saw the cheetah he had bumped into earlier was now holding onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip. The silver, it turned out, came from a shiny ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Now that his senses were clearer from being away from the party, he could smell a light, comforting scent coming from the man. It was sweet, like freshly baked cookies on a cold winter day. With their close proximity, he was also able to see that the cheetah's eyes were, just like the fox's, differently colored with his left eye being green and his right eye being a very similar icy blue.
“The world's a weird place. Sometimes, it's better to let it stay that way," he said with a warm smile.
Stunned, all Gavin could do was nod.
The cheetah nodded as well, released Gavin's arm, and turned around, walking away with his hands in his pockets and his long tail swishing behind him with each step. It was only after he had gone down the hall and turned left before Gavin came to his senses.
“Wait! What do you mean?" he called out. He received no response. Gavin sprinted after him, but the man had vanished. Confused, he quickly checked the game room as well as the other hallway but found both completely empty.
“Where the hell did he go…?" he said to himself quietly.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Gavin checked his watch. He had already spent far too long upstairs; any longer and the fox might become suspicious of his absence. He calmly descended the steps back to the first floor-
“Sir, may I ask what you were doing up there? The sign clearly says you are not permitted to enter."
The white fox stepped out from the space underneath the stairs just as Gavin had come back down. He did not seem angry, or confused, or even exasperated. Somehow, this did not make Gavin feel better.
“I'm so sorry," he said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. The events from earlier still had him shaken as much as he tried to force them from his mind. “I wasn't feeling well, so I was searching for a bathroom and when I didn't find one down here, I made my way upstairs."
“You do look a little off. Do you require medicine? Or perhaps some soda and a light snack to settle your stomach? I would be more than happy to fetch you whatever you need," said the fox.
“No, it's okay. I'm feeling a lot better now, but I appreciate it," said Gavin. “Do you know where Olivia is?"
“I believe she is in the parlor. It seems a young lady has caught her attention, so I would suggest leaving her be for now," he answered. “Oh and, by the way…" He pointed at the hallway to the right. “...there is a washroom over there. I cannot imagine how sick you must have been feeling if you missed one right in front of you. Are you sure you're alright?"
Gavin mentally punched himself for not coming up with a better lie, even if it seemed like it had gotten him out of trouble. “Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. I'd…better get back to the party."
The fox smiled politely and bowed with his hand over his heart. “Very good, sir. If you need anything, simply come find me and I will be glad to assist. I must attend to a matter upstairs, but I will be back down shortly."
Once back in the main area (and with another drink in hand, inside the correct glass this time), he stopped to think of his next move. He doubted he'd be able to get back upstairs again unnoticed, but his curiosity grew by the minute. Not only that, as much as he tried to force it out of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. Who was the man who had appeared so suddenly to stop him from entering, and where did he go? Were there secret passages?
“Not only that, why'd he have to be cute?" Gavin quietly grumbled to himself. This made it even harder to get the man's face out of his head. Especially his eyes, though it was odd that he had the same thing as the fox. What were the chances of that happening? Maybe that was why he was invited; the owner could have just thought it was funny he had the same eyes as his butler.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to put the man to the side and focus on why he was there in the first place. Maybe he could have Olivia show him around some more once she was done flirting, but he doubted she could get him upstairs. Everything else aside, he was simply too curious now and questions continued to appear despite his efforts to suppress them. For example, how did that man get up there without anyone noticing? He'd only managed it because the butler had been busy at the time. Besides, a second person going up would surely raise suspicion; if multiple people were seen going upstairs, wouldn't that signal that it might not really be off-limits? There were too many things left unanswered and unexplored. The question was how to fix that.
He once again pushed those thoughts to the side and pulled out his phone to send a quick text. A few moments later, it buzzed. He pulled it out again, read the message, and frowned. He replied, waited, and then read the next response. After a few moments of this, he sighed heavily. He put his phone back in his pocket and quickly left to sit in the much quieter room with the elevator just outside the living area. He collapsed to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest.
It didn't take long for someone to notice his absence.
“Sir? Are you alright?" the fox asked gently. He closed the door behind him and folded his hands behind his back.
Gavin nodded. The fox approached him carefully.
“...are you sure? You seem more shaken than earlier."
“...I don't know," Gavin finally said. “I just…no, I don't want to bother you with this. You aren't here to look after me."
He crouched so that he was eye-level with Gavin. “Sir, I am here to ensure that each guest has a wonderful time. If your experience is less than stellar, I want to know how I can help."
Somehow, he made being comforting sound formal. Gavin wondered if he was always this stuffy or if he was simply very good at his job.
“It's not the party, it's…my mom," he muttered. “...here. Just read it."
Gavin pulled out his phone and showed it to the fox, a series of messages already pulled up with the recipient on the top reading, “Mom".
Gavin: I forgot to mention earlier, but I'll be out late tonight. Just wanted to let you know.
Mom: Where the fuck are you?
Gavin: I'm at a party. Mr. Coil's grandson gave me an invitation since his grandfather didn't want it.
Mom: Are you fucking kidding me?
Gavin: What?
Mom: You know, this is why I wish I never had a child. All you do is drain money from me and give nothing in return. All your father and I wanted was for you to spend one fucking night at home.
Gavin: Mom, you didn't tell me you wanted me home tonight.
Mom: Why the fuck should I have to tell you to spend some damn time with your family for once?
Gavin: I try! Every time I do, you either ignore me or insult me! I thought you'd like me being away for once!
Mom: Don't you dare talk to me that way, you ungrateful shit! I never wanted you, you know! I didn't have to keep you, I could have given you away, but no! I had to be a good person, and now look where I am!
Gavin: …
Mom: If I was going to have a kid, I just wanted a son that doesn't treat his mother like garbage! Silly me for having high hopes!
Gavin: …okay, you know what? I'm done. I'm done taking this from you. You aren't going to speak to me that way. I'm 27 years old, I'm not a child anymore.
Mom: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TALK TO ME HOWEVER YOU WANT AND WALK AWAY? Well, it's a good thing you aren't taking it because there's nothing else left for you to take anyway!
Gavin: …what?
Mom: You want to be on your own so bad? You want to do whatever you want? Fine. Don't come home tonight. Or ever again. Everything here is now ours.
Gavin: What??
Mom: Don't you “what" me! This is what you want, so I'm more than happy to oblige!
Gavin: You're kicking me out!? Mom, please! You don't have to do this!
Mom: Don't waste your time. If I ever see you around here again, I'm calling the police.
Gavin: Mom, I have nowhere to go!
Mom: Well maybe you should have thought about that before you scorned your poor, generous mother! This conversation is over, and if you message me again, I'm telling the police you're harassing me.
“...oh, dear," said the fox. “I apologize if it is out of line for me to say, but what a horrid woman."
“No, you're right. She's terrible, she's always been terrible!" Gavin exclaimed, slamming his fist down. Predictably, a jolt of intense pain shot throughout his entire arm.
“What about your father? Surely he would object to this."
Gavin laughed bitterly while rubbing the side of his fist that had struck the floor. “You're joking, right? He's as bad as she is. Worse, in some aspects. But I guess that doesn't matter now…not like I'll see them again." Gavin turned away before the fox could see the first tears leave his eyes. “I'm s-sorry…I know you d-don't want to hear about all this…"
“No, it's quite alright. What will you do? Are there any friends or family you could stay with?" he asked.
“I wish, but…no. I never had any friends, my mom made it difficult to keep them, and by now, I'm sure she'll have called all our family members to tell them to not let me stay with them. I just…I don't know what to do. I have nowhere to stay, no money…I'll probably be dead on the side of the street in a week." He laughed again. “But maybe then my mom will finally be happy with me! Maybe then I'll finally have done something right in her eyes!"
The fox stood up. “Please, wait here," he said. He then went back into the manor and returned a few moments later. “I have spoken to My Lord, and he has decided you may stay here for as long as you wish."
Gavin froze for just a second, positive he didn't just hear what he thought he did.
“That's incredibly generous, but…I couldn't," he mumbled. “I don't want to be a burden."
The fox shook his head. “Did you forget this is a penthouse? Needless to say, money and space are hardly issues. Besides, My Lord is…rather unique. I daresay that you have no choice in the matter now that he has learned you have no other option."
Hoping he wasn't now in the plot of a horror movie, Gavin wiped the remaining tears away and smiled. “I don't know what to say. You're really sure it's okay for me to stay here?"
“Quite sure indeed, sir. You may use one of the guest rooms. I believe the one on the third floor will be suitable. I will ensure it is ready for your arrival later tonight and contains the necessities given you are lacking in any possessions. For now, please enjoy the rest of the party." He opened the door to the main area again, looking back one more time with a kind smile before entering.
“Oh, and welcome to your new home."
The moment he was gone, Gavin excitedly took out his phone.
Gavin: Guess what, mom? Remember how I said I'm at a party? Well it's at a big fancy penthouse, and when the owner found out what happened he agreed to let me stay here for a while!
Mom: Oh, so now you're taunting me? Whatever, like I care what you do now that you're not my problem anymore. Just make sure you're careful, boy. You wouldn't want to piss them off, because I'm sure no one else would take you in! This is the only chance you're going to get, so you'd better use it to shape up!
Gavin: Trust me, I have no intention of screwing this up.
Mom: Good. And when you're all done playing the “good boy", I'll be waiting for you to come crawling back to me. God, I can't wait for that day.
Gavin smiled and put his phone back in his pocket. He understood perfectly: this was the one chance he'd get, unexpected as it was. There was no turning back now, and no room for mistakes.
Still, as he returned to the party, he felt strange like he'd entered a dream that was too unrealistic even for a dream. Everything he saw, the parlor, the massive bedrooms, the hallways, they were all about to be part of his daily routine. Even if he didn't plan on staying for long, maybe a month or two at most, he was about to experience what it was like for someone who never had to worry about money, someone who could do whatever they wanted, when they wanted to do it. That just wasn't the kind of life someone like him got.
As much as he tried to resist, he couldn't help feeling excited.
“There you are, Mr. Ashworth!" said Olivia, approaching him with another drink in her hand. “Where have you been? It's not polite to keep a lady waiting, or do I have to teach you that as well?"
“I…wasn't aware I was supposed to come find you," said Gavin.
Olivia daintily placed a hand over her heart and gasped. “Mr. Ashworth! How incredibly rude! When you're with a lady for the evening, you don't simply leave her be! If I had a purse, I would surely smack you with it!"
“When you're together, perhaps, but we've already established that we're not quite each other's type. In fact, I heard from that fox that you were speaking to another young woman, so I decided to give you some time to yourself. Is it not proper to give a lady her privacy?"
She instantly dropped her shocked facade and laughed. “Oh, so it seems you're quite the gentleman when you want to be! I was joking, of course, but you recovered quite nicely. At least I don't have to teach you social etiquette. Really, though, where were you?"
“I was, um…outside. Something came up, and I needed a minute. Here." Gavin pulled out his phone and showed Olivia the texts. Her frown grew larger with each sentence she read.
“Well! I've never seen a woman quite so terrible!" said Olivia indignantly. “More importantly: are you alright, Mr. Ashworth? Do you need somewhere to lay your head for a while? You're welcome to stay with me for as long as necessary."
Confused as to why all of the rich people he'd met that night were absurdly generous, he said, “No, it's okay. Keep reading."
She continued, and her frown turned to bemusement. “...I see. So Alexander has already offered. Interesting."
“Who's Alexander? Is that this place's owner?" he asked.
“No, Alexander's the white fox. He's the personal butler to the owner."
For a moment, Gavin couldn't figure out why he felt something was off about what she said. It was only when he remembered their time in the parlor, and what he had learned while he was in there, that it hit him.
No one knows who the owner is.
“Olivia?"
“Mm?" she replied, swirling the liquid in her glass absentmindedly.
“How did you know that?"
Olivia paused, then smiled. “He told me his name when we were looking at the wine"
“I wasn't asking how you knew his name, I was asking how you knew it was Alexander that offered it to me. I didn't mention that in the text, I said it was the place's owner that offered but somehow you knew Alexander was the one to make the offer, not the owner."
She laughed softly. “Oh, Mr. Ashworth, don't tell me you're suspicious of me! How about this: I simply guessed as there is not a mortal soul in this house tonight who knows the identity of the person that lives here. There was no chance you had met them, so I assumed Alexander had asked on your behalf, and it seems I was correct. Is that a satisfactory answer?"
It wasn't, truthfully, but he had seen enough of Olivia to know he was outmatched should he attempt to take her on directly. Part of consistently winning fights is knowing the right time to strike and the right time to back off, which he had learned the hard way over several years. Right now, he knew, it was time to back off.
“I am. I apologize for coming off as rude, I've just had a bit of a long night. How long do these things usually last, anyway?" Gavin asked.
“Oh, usually until the next morning."
“Excuse me?"
“I'm joking, Mr. Ashworth. My guess is that, without the host here to entertain everyone, it'll start to wrap up around midnight. Everyone should be gone within an hour after that."
To pass the time, he and Olivia sampled some of the other wines present. He was starting to get the hang of memorizing which wine went in which glass, something Olivia seemed quite pleased about. Afterwards, they returned to the parlor. This time, they didn't engage in espionage and simply played a few rounds of chess…after Olivia taught him how to play, of course.
“Checkmate again, Mr. Ashworth," she said, the clack of the piece against the wooden board once again signaling his defeat.
“I think I'm not cut out for this game," he sighed.
She shook her head. “It simply takes practice. To be honest, I'm hardly a chess expert…chess master? There's some name they have for people who are good at this game…oh, grandmaster!" She crossed her arms. “I will say, the move you made a few turns ago where you captured my queen caught me by surprise. While you don't seem unintelligent, I'm surprised at how quickly you adapt."
He shrugged. “I don't think I'm as skilled at that as it seems. I just got lucky and made a few good moves by chance."
“Chance…of course. I suppose the right move can happen at any time whether you're trying or not…and whether you expect it or not."
It turned out that Olivia was right; at almost exactly midnight, Gavin saw the first person leave the party. And then another, then another until only a few people remained, picking at the remaining food or finishing their drinks. He and Olivia stayed in the living room, chatting next to the mound of caviar that somehow seemed as high as it did when he arrived until they were the only ones left. Alexander entered the room and bowed to them both.
“It seems the night is coming to a close. I hope you enjoyed the party, Miss Fuentes," he stated. “Have a safe journey home, and please visit us again."
“Oh, I think that can be arranged. Especially since you've got a new resident," she smirked. Olivia set her empty wine glass down, curtsied to Alexander, waved to Gavin, and left the ballroom. Now that it was just him and Alexander alone in the massive room that had been thriving only an hour ago, he suddenly felt helpless. The silence was uncomfortable, almost unnerving. He'd have to get used to it, he assumed, since the place would likely be nearly empty most of the time, but he doubted it'd be easy.
“Allow me to show you to your room," he said, leading Gavin out of the living room. “I have arranged for new belongings, so do not worry about that. Should you require anything else, do not hesitate to ask as I am at your service at all hours of the day and night. If it is within my abilities, I will fulfill any desire you may have." He chuckled lightly, though he somehow still managed to sound stiff while he did. “And, if I may say so, it will be difficult for you to find a task that is not within my abilities."
“What's your role here, anyway? I think Olivia said you were the butler?" said Gavin.
Alexander nodded. “Indeed. I am the butler and sole servant of this household. My tasks range from cooking, to cleaning, to repair. I also handle scheduling, ordering tools and supplies, and anything else My Lord requires of me. That being said, he is quite the capable man in his own right, so my services are more of a luxury than a necessity."
Although he now had many more questions, such as how in the world one person could oversee so many things for such a large penthouse, he knew he had to put them aside for now. Instead, Gavin asked, “So, your boss. What's he like? How come no one saw him tonight?"
“Oh, I wouldn't say that. I believe I saw him wandering about at one point," Alexander responded. Here, he began to choose his words carefully. “He certainly did not announce his presence, though. My Lord…is not the kind of person to stand in the spotlight. He likes to live on his own terms, to put it one way, and the opinions of others are more or less just a distraction."
“He sounds…formidable," said Gavin.
“...apologies, I know how it sounded. I appreciate your attempt to be polite, but I can tell you meant to say that he sounds cold and detached. That could not be further from the truth; My Lord is kind and generous, and I owe a great deal to him." For the first time, Alexander's voice shifted from gentle professionalism to having just a hint of excitement. “He is intelligent and hardworking. He sacrifices a great deal for others, even if they do not appreciate it. He is a wonderful man, one that I am eternally grateful to have as My Lord." Catching himself, Alexander cleared his throat and returned to his usual formal tone. “...but what I meant was that he enjoys life to the fullest, and he does not let anyone else stop him."
They went up the stairs on the second floor and paused at the top. Rather than lead to an entirely new set of rooms, they now stood in a small hallway with nothing but a set of double doors on the left.
“Here is your new room, Mr. Ashworth," said Alexander. “I hope it is to your liking. If it is too large, or the walk up to the third floor is too much, we can easily move you to one of the others on a lower floor. I know some people actually prefer less space."
“Oh, no! It's perfect, thank you!" said Gavin without thinking. Once again, Alexander stared at him with his penetrating eyes.
“Are you sure? You haven't even seen it yet," he said.
“Well…no, I haven't, but I just meant that anything is better than living on the street," he said. “...I feel like it's just starting to hit me that I'm technically homeless. It seems like it can't be real, like one of those things that always happens to someone else."
“Perhaps, but we are all someone else to someone else, Mr. Ashworth. The things we think could not possibly happen to us because they only happen to others are often what we end up experiencing, sometimes for worse but oftentimes for the better as well. In both cases, it's better to accept it rather than fight it."
He nodded. “It'll take some time to really believe that, but…you're right."
“Take all the time you need. This is a rather unusual situation, after all. In any case," Alexander continued, “it is quite late, so I will not keep you any longer. As I have not properly introduced myself, let me do so now." He raised his arm up and swept it across his body while bowing deeply. “My name is Alexander, and I am this fine home's butler. It is truly a pleasure to serve you. Oh, and on the note of introductions, My Lord said he will meet you formally tomorrow morning. He apologizes for not doing so at the party, but he had some business to take care of and found he had little time. Now, is there anything you require before you head off to bed? Some warm milk, perhaps? Or tea?"
Gavin was about to say that there wasn't, but the day's stress was starting to catch up to him. “Actually, some tea would be nice. It's been a bit of a day, so a cup of tea before bed sounds great."
Alexander bowed. “Very good, sir. I will have a cup of tea delivered to your room. How would you like it?"
“Um…hot?" Gavin answered tentatively.
“...thank you for clarifying that; it would be disastrous if I gave you iced tea, I suppose," he said. Gavin had a feeling he was being mocked. “What would you like in the tea, sir? Sugar, milk, cream…?"
Gavin's ears began to feel a bit warm. “Oh! I, uh…I like sugar in it. Sorry, I'm just…kind of tired."
Alexander bowed again. “No need to apologize, sir. I understand you've had a very long day. Now, let's see if your room is suitable, hm?"
Gavin nodded and entered the room. His room. He turned on the lights, and every muscle in his body instantly refused to move. This wasn't a room; it was practically an entirely separate house. Although the first floor (because the stairs on the other side of the room indicated there was another) was mostly a large, open space, it seemed to have everything one would need. To the left was another bar, but rather than have shelves of drinks behind it, there were counters, cabinets, a stove, a sink, and even a fridge. There was a square pit in the center of the room inside which was a long red couch surrounding a table with a vase of flowers on it, and like the living room on the first floor of the penthouse, there was a sitting area with several chairs facing a massive wall of glass. Another sofa faced the wall on the right where a massive TV had been hung up over a fireplace, and on the opposite end of the room from that, he saw a small open study with bookcases, a desk, and a computer.
Practically in a trance, he went upstairs and found a bedroom with the largest bed he'd ever seen, easily big enough for him to roll over several times in and still not reach the end. It faced another TV, this one on a fancy wooden stand, and had a small nightstand next to it on one side by a small window with light blue curtains and a polished wardrobe on the other. For some reason, there was also a mirror as big as the wall directly facing the bed. Ignoring this, Gavin went through the door to the side of the mirror and came to a fancy bathroom with both a glass shower stall and a brilliantly white tub that could easily fit two people. His shoes clacked against the immaculate marble floor, startling him out of his stupor. He quickly hurried back out and down the stairs where he found Alexander waiting by the door with his hands folded behind his back.
“I take it that everything is to your liking?" he asked.
“Uh-huh," was all he managed to say in response.
Alexander smiled. “Very good, sir. Your tea will be ready shortly. Oh, and I've taken the liberty of providing you with clothing as your current outfit is hardly suitable for sleep or everyday wear. You will find it in the wardrobe upstairs. There is also food in the fridge and cabinets should you become hungry during the night, as well as drinks." He bowed with his hand over his heart. “My Lord and I will see you tomorrow. Peaceful dreams, Mr. Ashworth."
He left the room. While the general discomfort from being around Alexander vanished, Gavin suddenly felt miniscule now that he was alone in the enormous bedroom. He lightly pinched himself, positive that something was wrong; he was dreaming, maybe, or someone would jump out from behind something and announce that it'd all been a prank. There was just no way he was currently standing in a bedroom larger than any house or apartment he'd ever lived in, and especially not one that was his…at least temporarily.
To distract himself, he went over to the fridge. Alexander said there was food inside, just a few small snacks probably but-
“...this can't be right," he said to himself, staring at the mound of food on each shelf; there were tubs of pasta and sauces, sandwich meats and cheeses, bread, and a few other things he couldn't identify like a tub labeled “hummus", whatever that was, in neat handwriting. And then there were the drinks: just in the fridge he saw countless cans of soda and bottles of juice and water. The cabinets had been filled to the brim as well, some with food like chips and bread but also protein shakes, sports drinks, and even an entire rack of spices, only a few of which he'd heard of. Between the cabinets and fridge, there was enough for at least a month. Maybe two if he rationed it out.
A yawn caught him off guard, reminding him of how exhausted he was. While the day hadn't gone exactly as planned, it still ended far better than he'd ever have expected. Tomorrow would probably be even more exhausting as he got used to living in such a large place for a while. If nothing else, he'd get some good exercise wandering around the place and taking so many stairs. Unfortunately, the stairs up to the bedroom felt endless at the moment, and when he finally arrived, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into the enormous bed and drift off. Still, Alexander was right; a tuxedo wasn't exactly made to sleep in. The problem was that he didn't have anything else, and he doubted whatever Alexander had given him would fit…
…is what he thought until he opened the wardrobe to find not only several suits but piles of neatly folded clothes, all various kinds from tank tops to long-sleeved shirts, shorts to jeans, casual to formal, and, somehow, all in his exact size.
“So that's what it's like to be rich and have a butler," he said, marveling at how unnaturally good at his job Alexander was. With just a quick look, he'd managed to know Gavin's exact clothing sizes including the size of his shoes. Then again, it wasn't like he'd met any other butlers; for all he knew, Alexander was terrible and a good one would have done twice as much.
He took a pair of sweatpants, a long t-shirt, and a pair of warm-looking socks from the pajama drawer and went into the bathroom to change. Here, Alexander had placed a toothbrush, three flavors of toothpaste, and floss on the sink while opening the cabinet underneath it revealed the fluffiest towels he had ever seen on one side and shampoos and soaps, all with different scents, on the other. The only thing he could possibly complain about was the mirror facing his bed. He'd just have to find a way to cover it. Maybe he could even ask Alexander to do it.
When he left the bathroom, he was surprised, and now feeling slightly suspicious, to see a cup of tea and a small plate of cookies had been placed on the nightstand. He hung up his tuxedo in the closet and picked up one of the cookies.
“How did he…?" Gavin muttered. He carefully sniffed it but didn't notice the scent of anything that would be out of place. Cracking it in half revealed nothing dangerous, only the melted carob chips forming strings between the two halves, so he took a small bite and waited. The lack of scent or immediately obvious foreign materials hardly meant anything, of course, but it never hurt to be careful. However, aside from experiencing what was probably the most warm, delicious cookie he had ever tasted, nothing happened. He repeated his examination with the drink but found that it, too, was nothing but a perfect cup of herbal tea. He couldn't figure out how Alexander had managed to get him tea and a plate of cookies in such a short time, or how he got up to the bedroom without Gavin hearing him, but the harder he thought about it, the more exhausted he became. He probably already had it prepared, Gavin assumed. That would make sense.
Deciding to worry about it another time, he finished his tea and cookies and, after brushing his teeth, climbed into bed. To Gavin's delight (and dismay), the bed itself was the perfect balance of squishy and firm, while the pillows supported his head in a way he didn't know pillows were capable of, meaning he would definitely struggle when he had to go back to sleeping in his regular bed when the time came. The sheets were blissfully silky and had a faint, pleasant floral scent that only made him even more tired.
While there was still a lot to be decided about how he'd handle the situation going forward, he decided that he'd make no progress at the moment with how tired he was. And so, Gavin pulled the covers up and finally allowed himself to fall into his usual uneasy sleep. Whatever was coming tomorrow would come no matter what, he knew. For better or worse, he'd just have to deal with it like he always had.
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