Three Divisions: Crescentwood 1

by R. A. Smyth

  “I would encourage you to be open-minded about this, and give it an honest try. You never know, you might be surprised,” she encourages, full of hope and positivity.

  I don’t know what to make of all this new information. I have a father. One who wants to get to know me. I know based on my mums’ reactions when I mentioned him, that whatever my father did hurt her badly. Does that make him a bad guy though? Someone I shouldn’t at least meet? I’m not a naturally optimistic person so I, by no means, think I will go and live with him and my life will suddenly be all unicorns and rainbows; but life can only shit on you so much, right?

  I’ve made my decision – not that I really had much of a choice in the first place – but at least I’m embracing it. “Ok, so when do I leave?”

  Chapter 3

  Within 24 hours of finding out I have a father, a fact that I still haven't wrapped my head around, all of my meagre possessions are packed in a suitcase and I'm boarding a flight halfway across the world.

  Not only is this my first time getting on a plane, but I've got a ticket to fly first class - friggin first class!! The plane is huge, with everyone in first class having their own little pods where they can watch movies, play games, and listen to music from the screen placed in the back of the seat in front of them. You can also press a button that reclines the seat until you’re lying down, and everyone has their own window where they can view the clouds passing by.

  There is even a bar area we can go to and sit at once the plane is in the air and the pilot has told us we can roam around the cabin. It’s insane.

  As soon as I plunk my ass in the fancy seat, an air hostess comes over offering me a complimentary drink. Ordering an ice-cold coke, I take my time sipping on it, then relax back in my seat to enjoy the onboard movies and sleep for the next thirteen hours.

  It’s only once I'm off the plane and waiting on my luggage that I realise I've no idea what my father looks like or how I'm going to know who he is amongst all the other people waiting for their loved ones to arrive from different flights.

  I pull my suitcase through the spacious and modern arrivals lounge at San Francisco airport, searching the faces of everyone milling around in the hopes of seeing someone who looks like me, or looks as anxious as I feel. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m looking for.

  Catching sight of a man in a uniform standing off to one side, I realise I shouldn't have worried. Turns out I was searching the crowd for the wrong person. I shouldn’t have been seeking out a nervous father figure, but a hired hand sent to pick me up. Nicole did say my father was wealthy, this must be how the rich greet long-lost family members. How touching.

  The man is a tall, average looking guy in a black suit and tie, wearing one of those driver’s hats you see on chauffeurs in old movies. He is holding a sign that says ‘Sophie Montgomery' on it. So not my name. It seems too coincidental that he could be here to pick up any other Sophie. I guess my father couldn’t be bothered to greet me himself, but already has a sense of ownership over me by changing my name, without even informing me. Excellent first impression dad.

  Reminding myself I am supposed to be giving this a serious try, and not immediately writing him off, I drag myself and my bag over to the guy.

  “Hey, I think I might be who you're here to pick up but my name is Sophie Prescott, not Montgomery”. I point out hesitantly, still looking around at the other strangers waiting to greet people as they come through arrivals, in case I have the wrong person.

  The guy gives me a cursory once over. I mustn’t meet his expectations, if his unimpressed look is anything to go by. I’m guessing my faded 'Rolling Stones' t-shirt and worn jeans with non-fashionable rips at the knees bought from a charity shop, along with my face, clear of any makeup, and messy hair with dead ends scraped back into a ponytail, aren’t good enough to cut it here in California. Thank goodness I've never given a crap about what other people think about me.

  I've always been the girl who has no money, wears clothes that don’t fit her, never going to school events or on school trips and never hanging out with others or making friends, always sticking to myself. As such, I've always been classified as an outsider and, while it might be a lonely existence, it’s one I am content and familiar with. I'm certainly in no rush to change who I am just to fit into my father’s life, especially when he has better things to do than pick me up or get to know me.

  “Yes miss, I'm here to pick you up and transport you to the Montgomery residence. Is this, eh, all you have with you?” The man enquires, frowning at my single suitcase with a mixture of uncertainty and scorn.

  I mentally roll my eyes at this asshole’s judgement of me. Responding with a heavy dose of sarcasm, “Oh no, I’m having the rest of my stuff shipped, I couldn't possibly cart all of my possessions across the two continents by myself, now could I?!”

  I stifle a laugh at the man's confused look. I’m guessing people don’t usually speak to him like that as he doesn’t seem to know whether or not to take me seriously. Eventually, he must decide to just ignore what I said, as he reaches for my suitcase. “Right well let's get going.” Turning on his heel, he strides out the terminal door, assuming I'll follow him, which of course I do. I’ve no other choice unless I fancy living in the airport - no thanks.

  As we step out of the airport, the warm Californian air hits me. It’s early evening and the heat feels like it's warming my whole body right through to my core. It's revitalising and definitely something I could get used to. It beats the cold and wet Northern Irish weather by a long shot.

  Focusing on my surroundings, I notice a black limousine with tinted windows parked at the curb, right by the door, beside a ‘no parking’ sign - I guess rules don't apply to the rich and arrogant.

  Leading me over to the car, the driver opens the door for me and I climb into the back while he puts my suitcase in the boot, or trunk, as the driver referred to it.

  I hadn’t given it much thought, but I guess I’m going to have to get used to calling things by different names now. If I remember correctly from some of the TV shows I’ve seen, trousers are pants and trainers are sneakers; chips are french fries and crisps are chips…Jeez, it’s like learning a whole new language. I’m totally going to call things by the wrong name and confuse people.

  Looking around at the interior, it’s safe to say I’ve never been in such a fancy car before. It has soft leather seats that I sink into and a plush carpet lies underneath my feet. Hell, it even has a TV and a mini-fridge. Oh, how the other half live.

  I have no idea where we are going or how long the ride is, and the driver must have had enough of me as the divider separating us stays up, meaning I'm unable to ask any questions. Guess I should just sit and chill for now, and by that, I mean stress over what I’ve gotten myself into. Certainly, based on first impressions, it’s not looking too promising, and I have the feeling it’s not going to improve any time soon.

  I must doze off at some point and when I next wake up I realise I slept for several hours. Flip, this jetlag thing is serious. I’m exhausted even though all I’ve done is sleep for the last day.

  Looking out the window, I’m surrounded by trees on all sides, so tall that they block out the sun. Through the thin gaps in the trees, I can see mountain peaks in the distance, indicating we are miles away from the California coast now.

  The trees continue to fly past us, not giving me any clue as to where we are, or where we are going. I must have been staring out the window for half an hour when we drive past a sign stating that we have just entered ‘The Town of Crescentwood’. I vaguely remember Nicole saying this is where my father lives.

  Soon, the never-ending forest of trees is exchanged for high walls and steel gates, indicating people’s property lines. Peering through the gates as we drive by, I catch sight of huge mansions, larger than anything I’ve ever seen before. Each property is so large, no reasonable person could possibly need that much space. The butterflies in my tummy are at an all-time high,
seeing the reality of this world I’ve stepped into with my own eyes. I have no idea how to fit into this life.

  We have only passed a few mansions, some of which I can’t even see, they are set so far back from the front gate, when the car starts to slow and we approach a wrought iron gate with a guardhouse containing two armed guards, one of whom approaches us as we roll to a stop. This is the first house I’ve seen that has guardhouses and guards present.

  While we are stopped at the gate, I notice security cameras mounted on top of the gates. Taking a closer look, I realise the camera provides a 360-degree view, and, looking further along the wall, I notice there are cameras mounted every 100 yards or so. Who needs so much security? It makes me wonder what he’s trying to hide, or who he’s trying to keep out.

  I hear the driver talking to one of the guards before he signals to one of his colleagues and the gates open to allow us in. Now that I am right up at the gates, they seem even more sinister, like I’m about to enter through the gates of hell. I suddenly have the feeling, once I pass by them, I will never truly be free again.

  Before I can fall too far into my internal freak-out, the car lurches forward and we drive through the gates. Turning round in my seat so I can look out the back window, I watch as the gates slowly close behind us, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  We slowly make our way down a tree-lined driveway which opens up to a large driveway in front of an enormous colonial-style mansion with huge pillars all along the front of the building, rising to the roof; and more windows than is appropriate for any normal house. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  Off to the side is a huge six-door garage and surrounding the property are luscious, perfectly manicured lawns and flower beds. I'm so far out of my comfort zone right now, I have no idea what to think. All I know is that I do not belong in this world with my ratty clothes, nails bitten to the quick, and 'don't give a shit' attitude.

  Before I can take in anything else about my new home, the car door opens and the driver ushers me out of the comfort and temporary safety the car provided. I guess I better suck it up and get ready to meet my father.

  I find myself wondering if I have any other family. Is my father married? Does he have any other children? What if I have siblings; brothers and sisters I’ve never met. I hadn’t thought about it until right now. I don’t even know if I want siblings. I’ve been an only child my whole life. More than that, I’m used to being on my own, never having anyone to rely on, socialise with, have an inside joke with. I have no idea what that would be like or if I’d even like it, or be good at it. Maybe I’m so used to being alone that I wouldn’t be able to get along with anyone else.

  The driver grabs my suitcase from the trunk and strides towards the front door of the house, once again leaving me no choice but to follow him. As we approach, the door opens, and standing on the other side is a butler. Well, I assume he's a butler, it's not as if I've ever met one before, but he looks like a quintessential butler with his short greying hair, black suit with a grey waistcoat, and polished shoes.

  “Miss Sophie, welcome to your new home. I’m Thomas, the house manager. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

  I’m unable to respond to him as I look around the foyer in shock. It’s official, I’m not in Kansas anymore. There is no way on God’s green earth that I should be standing here in this pristine, fancy as fuck foyer in my dirty trainers…eh, sneakers.

  In front of me is a sweeping staircase that ascends to a second floor where there is a balcony that overlooks the front entrance. Taking in the rest of the entrance hall, I see portraits and sculptures delicately placed around the open space, and hanging down from the roof is an enormous, delicate-looking chandelier. Off to the left is an entranceway, beyond which I can see a formal looking living area. Another living area is through the entranceway on my right and looking past the stairs, I can just make out a homely looking open-plan kitchen and dining area.

  “I hope you will find everything you need, but please let me know if there is anything that has been overlooked.

  “I will give you a tour of the property, but first, your father has been waiting patiently and he is most excited to see you so I’ll take you to him now and we can sort everything else out later.”

  Unable to put together a coherent sentence I simply nod dumbly to Thomas who directs me through a doorway behind the stairs that I hadn’t noticed on my initial inspection.

  The doorway opens into a corridor which has several rooms leading off it, the doors of which are all closed. Thomas points out each room as we walk by, informing me that they are bedrooms and meeting rooms. One room is even a home theatre.

  Approaching the far end of the corridor, Thomas stops outside yet another closed wooden door. Instead of telling me what this room is though, he knocks on the door, giving me a reassuring smile as a gruff voice, presumably belonging to my father, barks out for us to enter.

  My head is about to explode with the realization that I am about to meet my father. This moment feels so surreal. Hell, this whole journey has been so outlandish. Part of me keeps expecting to wake up in my bed, back at home, and discover this has all been some strange dream. I pinch the soft inner skin of my forearm just to be sure; nope, this is definitely real.

  Chapter 4

  Standing outside my father's office, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and try to take deep breaths. This has all happened so quickly; my brain hasn't fully caught up with everything.

  Before I feel ready, not that I think there would ever be enough time to prepare myself to meet my father, face-to-face, for the first time, Thomas opens the door and ushers me into the room.

  Too scared to look at my father immediately, I instead take in the room, the style of which is in keeping with the rest of the house. The walls are lined with paintings and numerous bookcases, filled neatly with books and other artefacts. There is a large fireplace with a roaring fire in it, even though it's only September and the weather isn’t nearly cold enough outside for a fire yet. In front of the ornate fireplace are two sofas where people could sit comfortably and read books, or entertain business guests.

  On the other side of the room is a large, elaborate desk. On my side of the desk are two armchairs intended for visitors to use, while, on the other side, sits a tall, intimidating man. This must be my father.

  Casting my eyes over what I can see of my father, I can see that he is strong and athletic-looking with broad shoulders. He clearly values his looks as he's well-groomed with a professionally styled, close-shaved beard and dark hair, perfectly styled back, and manicured nails.

  The man hasn’t bothered to glance up at our arrival, not acknowledging us until Thomas announces my presence. “Sir, Miss Sophie has arrived”.

  “Yes, yes, Thomas, leave us to it.” The man ushers, dismissing Thomas, still without raising his eyes from the document he is reading.

  It is only once Thomas has left us alone that the man slowly, carefully, places the paper down on his desk, lifting his eyes to take me in. Now that he is looking directly at me and I can see his face, I realise he looks nothing like me. In fact, other than his dark hair, which is a similar shade to my own, he’s the complete opposite of me, with his tanned skin to my pale complexion, his eyes, which are a very dark brown, almost black, give him a dark, menacing presence; whereas mine are a pale stormy blue, like my mother’s. His nose is wider than mine and he’s got a hard-angular jaw. All in all, it paints a picture of a domineering man who gets what he wants. He’s not the type that anyone says ‘no’ to, at least, not without incurring his wrath.

  While I’ve been studying him, he has been doing the same to me, and it doesn’t take long to realise that I mustn’t meet his expectations. The pinching of his lips and narrowing of his eyebrows tell me he isn’t impressed by what he sees. His eyes glance from me to the empty chair in front of his desk as he gives a quick nod of his head, telling me to sit without words.

  He continues to take me in as I cros
s the room and sit in the chair as directed. He doesn’t break eye contact and it’s definitely intimidating.

  “You look a lot like your mother,” he finally states, still assessing me, looking for weaknesses. “We will have to fix your appearance though. I can’t have you running around looking like a deranged homeless person.”

  His caustic remark gets my back up. Does he not know the life my mother and I led? We don’t all have buckets of money lying around to spend on a whim. Besides, I may not look my best right now, but I definitely do not look deranged!

  “You don’t suffer from your mothers…afflictions, do you?” He questions snidely, looking at me intently, as though he could see the mental health problems written on my skin.

  “Eh, no. Not that I’m aware of,” I reply, confused as to why it matters.

  “Good. That wouldn’t reflect well on me.”

  Ah, so that’s why. I’ve only met the guy, but I already have all the information I need to know. One thing is for sure, we are not going to get along.

  “Now that you are a Montgomery, certain standards will be expected of you. Every time you leave this house you will be representing the Montgomery family, and as such you will be polite and well-mannered at all times. I can’t have you drawing unwanted attention or causing trouble.

  “You will also be expected to make an effort to fit in here, to ingratiate yourself with the people of Crescentwood and get to know the other kids you go to school with. You never know how the people you develop relationships with now could be of benefit to you later down the road."

  Of course, everything with this guy is about image and what other people can do for him. I hope not all rich people have the same outlook or I’m not going to find any common ground with anyone here.

  “The residents of this town could take my…business to new heights. I am in the middle of making important negotiations here, and if you interfere with that there will be serious consequences. Do you understand me?”