by C. L. Stone
He sent an ID code.
I turned the volume down so it wouldn’t interrupt the cartoon movie playing for the girl.
We just needed to wait it out.
Easiest favor to earn, right?
Capriccioso
(Capricious, unpredictable)
Victor
When the luncheon ended, Jasmine stood, delicately beckoning with her hand. “Thank you for coming. Please feel free to make use of the house while the final preparations are being made for tonight.” She took her time to talk to each of the women individually, thanking them by name and urging them inside. Her way of saying get out of the way to let attendants clean up and finish for tonight.
Victor remained seated, questioning if he felt anything, either from the anti-anxiety pill, or the two and a half flutes of champagne he’d been coerced to drink throughout the luncheon. There was a slowness to his thinking, but his paranoia about how his body would react to the mix was underlying the numbness.
Brie remained next to him until the others wandered off. “You okay?” she whispered quietly to him.
“What should I do?” he asked. “I don’t know if I can play tonight if this…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.
“Water,” she said. “The alcohol effects should wear off after a bit if you don’t drink anymore.” She tugged him by the wrist. “And let’s get away from everyone, just in case.”
Victor followed Brie, and part of him spaced out for a minute until they were in the house in the stairwell.
Brie paused on the second-floor landing and then hesitated. “I… uh… don’t exactly know where I’m going.”
Victor blinked rapidly and summoned some concentration until he could direct her to go upstairs to the third floor, his level, and down the hall. He wasn’t drunk, but he kept dazing out. Part of him wanted to fully be aware of what was happening to him, but it was hard to concentrate. The pill was doing what it was supposed to be, helping him to not worry, but he was so paranoid about not being able to focus, not having full control over his body at this moment.
The third-floor living area was at the end of the hallway past his bedroom and office and was empty, the couches tidy and the entertainment center closed up, hiding the television and game consoles behind etched wooden doors. There was a mini kitchen to one side, with a small fridge, a sink, and cabinets with snacks and other items.
He headed to the mini kitchen, but Brie stopped him.
“Go sit down,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
She’d drunk a bit of the champagne, too, but no one had nagged at her to complete her first glass. He was sure his mother was up to something, but he had a hard time figuring out what. Victor went to the couch, sliding into an inelegant slump, leaning against the armrest. He rubbed his fingertips at the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed and head back.
What had he been thinking? Should he call Silas and let him know what happened? Why wasn’t he here?
Where were the others?
Why would they leave him alone on a day they all knew he’d need them the most? They knew what his parents could be like, especially in any social event.
Brie seemed to come back within seconds with two glasses of water, handing one to him. “The best thing to do is to lay low. I probably should have split the pill in half anyway.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, and took the water. He sipped at it a bit, clearing his throat. “I should have just not taken it. And I should have figured out how to decline the champagne.”
Brie sat next to him, turned to face him with her glass in her left hand to drink and her other arm tucked around her own stomach. “I know why you don’t say no to her. The same reason I don’t.”
He nodded. She didn’t need to say. It was the same reason she probably agreed to this today.
Because that was what you were taught to do. Obey your parents or they made life more difficult. Miserable. Embarrassed you in front of other people for your behavior. You were considered spoiled if you dared to do things your own way.
Possessions. Puppets. Meant to perform and not ask questions… or ask for anything.
He had other reasons for keeping the peace, too. For Sang. For the others. He spent a lot of his allowance money on them. His parents never asked questions as long as he did what they wanted.
Brie motioned with her water glass and drank from it, hinting he should finish.
He drank half and paused, not wanting to feel too full. Or maybe he should. He considered if he could force himself to puke, if that would get rid of everything in his stomach.
All he had was champagne and the pill. Maybe he should eat something since they didn’t really eat at the luncheon.
Noises came from the other side of the hallway. Brie flinched and adjusting herself to sit a bit apart from Victor. Victor reacted as well, sitting up.
George appeared at the end of the hallway. Victor’s father hadn’t changed from earlier, but why was he up here? They remained quiet as George started to turn when he spotted the two of them at the end of the hall.
Victor hid a grimace. Not the person he wanted to be around right now.
Victor wanted to stand up and leave, but making the connection from his brain to getting his body to move took way too long.
George floated down the hall in their direction, a broad smile on his face, the lean cheeks wrinkling as he did. “Look at you two. Hiding away.” The way he spoke, he was a little too cheerful. It was his drunk happy stage, not to the point of being too drunk to operate, just enough to be happy… and usually a bit lewder.
“We’re going downstairs,” Victor said, sitting up and placing the water glass on the coffee table in front of him.
George noted the glass and scrunched his eyebrows. He went over, picked it up, and sniffed. “This won’t do. It’s your birthday. Why are you drinking just water?”
“My throat was just dry,” Victor said. He sat on the edge of the couch, and had a short wave of spacing out for a minute. He wasn’t sure if it was from getting up and low blood pressure and mixed with everything in his system, but his whole body was finding it difficult to coordinate.
George held on to the glass and motioned with it toward Brie. “Is this all he’s offering you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer and held the glass again toward Victor. “You should know better.”
“I offered options,” Victor said, a lie but hoping Brie understood, she could have gotten whatever she wanted.
Brie instantly nodded in agreement. “My throat was a bit parched as well,” she said, her tone a bit softer than it was minutes ago.
“I know just the thing for parched throats,” he said. He moved to the small kitchen, checking the contents of the fridge. “I’m very sure I had this stocked with the right…” He drifted off, shifting through what was in the fridge.
“You’re not normally up here,” Victor said.
“Your mom wants me out of the way until more guests arrive. We all have our parts to play. I used to hang out in our bedroom, but she particularly likes to show that off for house tours.”
“We should probably go,” Victor said. This time he stood up but remained still. He wasn’t drunk, it was a different feeling. A slowness, a drag on his muscles. It was probably the anti-anxiety amplified. He wasn’t used to it so the effects could likely be stronger for him as well.
“Nonsense,” George said. “We don’t have to go downstairs for a bit. It’s your birthday, I’ll get you only the best for today.” He stood back up fully with a can of fruit punch, which he opened. He poured it into a glass, and from his pocket, he pulled a flask. He poured the clear liquid out into the glass as well and brought it around, handing it to Brie. “For you, my dear,” he said.
Brie’s smile faltered a bit but she instantly picked back up, hiding her stunned expression. “Mr. Morgan, you don’t have to… but thank you…”
“It’s nothing,” he said, making another
one and handing it to Victor before finally one for himself, draining the flask completely.
He came around with his own fruit juice mix blend and urged them to hold their glasses up. He clinked glasses with the two of them. “To my son. Victor. Turning seventeen is a big deal. It’s all I’ve heard about for a month.”
How embarrassing.
“For… Victor,” Brie said softly. She waited for Victor with wide eyes.
Go easy, she seemed to say wordlessly.
Victor sipped the sweetened drink made bitter with what was clearly vodka and too much of it to be masked by the fruit juice. “Thanks,” Victor said. Stay polite. Don’t say anything right now. Not while…
George took a big drink, made a face at the taste, and then shuddered. “Remind me to find the rum,” he said. He motioned with his glass, swishing the liquid until it spilled a bit on the carpet and he corrected himself after. “Oops. Don’t tell the maid I did that.”
Brie forced a giggle.
George beamed at her. “You know, you’re much prettier than his other friend.” He snapped his attention back to Victor. “What’s her name? The blond that’s always hanging around?”
“Sang,” Victor said. “And she’ll be here soon.”
“Well, don’t let her find you in here together.” He winked and gave him a thumbs up. “Or maybe you let her find you two and she joins in? I told your mother you take after me far more than her. She never believed me.”
Victor thought he’d smother the groan but instead it came out in a short burp.
George laughed and clapped his hand on Victor’s shoulder far too hard, enough that Victor spilled a bit of his drink on the carpet as well. “Listen, I know you hate surprises, so I’m going to let you in on a little something. I know your mother. She’s probably got something up her sleeve tonight.”
“Yeah, you told me,” Victor said. “The new car.”
George shook his head and chuckled. “No, no. Something big.” He leaned in like he was going to whisper but he didn’t change the volume of his voice. “I bet you it’s that fancy school in Europe she’s been talking about. Even more prestigious than that prep school you go to.”
No… Victor was sure that wasn’t right. He’d informed his mother that the Academy was the best school. And to prove a point, he’d gotten fake awards and accolades and the Academy had them pay a stipend, which Victor made sure went to a charity and never claimed on his favors or his money count because he felt it wasn’t right.
Instead of answering, he murmured, and not even Victor himself understood what he was trying to say, too in shock. His brain was too busy trying to process.
“Take a drink, Victor. You’re going to see the world. It’ll be good for you.” George took Victor’s elbow and urged him. “A good long drink to get you in the mood.”
Victor went to sip again, just once, but George took his elbow and unless Victor spilled the drink all over himself, he was forced to swallow, more than he wanted.
His father let go of him and slapped the back of his hand against Victor’s chest. Victor pushed the glass away from his mouth just in time so his teeth didn’t clink on the glass. “Don’t let your mother know I told you and act more surprised and happy when she tells you.” He winked at Brie. “You, too.”
“I’ll try,” Brie said.
“You’re a smart girl,” his father said. “Pretty. Don’t worry about your figure, though. I always tell the thin girls, your body shape is just as lovely as those thick girls. They’re all beautiful.”
Victor was trying to think of how to stop him going down that path, and his slow brain put the drink to his face and he gulped. It was what he did at events when his father said something and Victor wanted to say something back but stopped himself.
The gulp of vodka slid down, reminding him that he couldn’t do that now, but a bit late.
He pulled it away from his lips, coughing as the vodka burned at his throat.
George chuckled and brightened. “That’s my boy.” He walked away, heading to the hall, drank the rest of his drink he made for himself quickly before leaving the glass on a planter stand. He walked down the hall and down the flight of stairs.
“I don’t know how he functions,” Brie said. “He’s got to be on his second liver.” She turned to Victor. “You okay?”
Victor nodded and before he could say anything, Brie took the drink from his hand and shoved the water glass into it.
“Drink this,” she said. “We’ve got time, right?”
He shrugged and shook his head, a little too hard. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, the mixing of the pill and the alcohol to his body or not being able to control himself whenever these ‘surprises’ were presented and he’d have to sound utterly grateful.
Not just a car, they wanted to send him to a school. Far away. He was trying to figure out why.
But there was only one reason. Getting him away from here, from Sang. To go to a school with a name Jasmine’s famous friends would recognize. To send him to a college-level school to transition him to a university where they’d have control over him for another several years…
What a disaster. Everything.
Brie sighed. “I’m regretting my decisions today.”
“My friends will know what to do,” Victor said. “Silas…”
“He left, remember?” Brie said.
Victor hesitated, trying to remember. “Kota and Gabriel are on the way.”
She nodded. “Drink water until they get here. We’ll think of something.”
This wasn’t going well. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
He probably still had a lot of offered drinks to go through. Like cocktails before dinner as guests arrived.
He drank more water, hoping it’d water down the vodka.
He took his phone out, his thumb hovering over the apps that linked him to his friends. Just a couple of buttons and he’d have someone on the phone. Who was available? Who could come?
The longer he took to reach out to anyone, the harder it was to think of who could come.
Sang could, if she wasn’t working at something to help earn a favor.
Kota and Gabriel were on the way. Maybe he just needed to hold out.
Maybe Silas would come back.
Maybe Luke would feel better and the others would come.
If he could only stop the birthday drinks…
Pietoso
(Pitiful, piteous)
Sang
It took a long time before I heard footsteps in the house. The baby had woken up, and so far without them, I managed to get the young boy’s diaper changed, feed him a bottle, burp as directed, and he gleefully watched his little sister’s movie, even if she restarted it twice.
He didn’t move much. Annie did often. But she entertained herself, and her baby brother, and did everything she wanted, leaving me to just ask, “Do you need my help?”
“No, I got it,” she’d say in a very cute way.
After some time of watching the same movie, Mrs. Ruiz and Mr. Buble appeared from the kitchen.
“Sorry we’re late,” Mrs. Ruiz said, moving instantly to Annie on the couch. She smiled at her daughter. “How are you, dear?”
Her kid perked up. “We’re out of cheese,” she said. There was a small pile of string cheese wrappers next to her on the couch. She’d gotten up to go to ‘her drawer’ in the fridge, where there were cheese and other snacks. She’d only eaten the cheese.
I blushed, waiting for Annie to mention the guys but she seemed only interested in her snacks. “I wasn’t sure if I should make her something else.”
Mrs. Ruiz smiled and waved her hand. “It’s fine. I’ll make some dinner in a minute.” She scanned the room and turned toward little Connor. “How’d the little guy do?” She moved to him, kneeling and looking at him.
I shrugged. “I think he’s okay.” He’d only modestly cried when he woken up. Anni
e caught him when he seemed to want to cry and entertained him really well.
“He’s so cute,” Annie said gleefully.
“You’re very excited to have a new little baby,” Mrs. Ruiz said. She picked up the boy and held him in her arms. “He is very cute.”
“His name is funny,” Annie said.
“Connor Coaltar is a funny name.”
Not her baby? Was Connor adopted? Wouldn’t they have changed the last name?
“I’ve got him from here,” she said.
My nerves buzzed with electricity. I was worried I should have done more or something was wrong, but with her saying it was okay, I calmed a little.
“Then we best get going,” Mr. Buble said gently. He motioned for me to follow him. “I believe you need to get to an event tonight.”
I did, although the whole experience left me feeling uneasy.
Was what I did wrong? Did it still count that two of the boys had been up the road nearly the entire time?
I followed Mr. Buble out, saying goodbye to Annie repeatedly as she insisted on following me to the front door. “Have a nice day!” she cried to us and closed the door.
I joined Mr. Buble in the car and when he started the engine, I said quickly, “I’m really sorry.”
“What do you mean? You did a fine job.”
“Yes, but… one of the guys from the team called and when I said I was babysitting, two of them came to check on me.”
He lifted a brow. “Really?”
I nodded. “I just… I’ve never babysat before and I didn’t know what to do. They came by and showed me a few things and then left… and I think they’re still in the neighborhood.” I gritted my teeth and looked down at my lap. “I’m sorry. I might not deserve a favor.”
He slowed the car to the side of the road. We hadn’t left the neighborhood yet and if Mrs. Ruiz had stepped out onto her porch, she could see us.
Mr. Buble turned to me, his face tranquil, no hint as to his thoughts. “Do you think you deserve the favor?” he asked.
I bit my lip a little, shrugging, still not looking at him. I felt a little guilty because the task was simple as well. I did absolutely nothing but sit on the couch for the most part. The girl got her own snacks. The boy needed maybe fifteen minutes of attention from me at most and then settled down in his play chair quickly. Maybe compared to other Academy jobs I’d been on, it felt too simple.
