Chapter 3
Tommy
Rich people are so bizarre, and this experience is only reinforcing my opinion.
After we arrive, we get a tour from the staff because–get this–Kira has never even been to this property before.
Her uncle owns the damn place! A literal mansion–no, a literal castle–nestled on a gorgeous plot of land and overlooking a huge, private lake lapping with clear blue water.
The mansion-castle is spectacular even on its own, with pillars and columns and balconies and shit, but adding in the scenery? It’s unreal.
If Young-gi was my uncle, I’d be here all the damn time.
Since the house is so damn big, it takes almost an hour to be shown around and given the rundown on everything except the guest wing where the other summit attendees are resting after their journeys.
Yeah, a guest wing. What is this, Versailles?
Seeing the time, the staff member giving us the tour–wearing a real butler uniform, holy shit–suddenly redirects us and tells us we’re running late. Running late to what? Eating dinner? How can someone be late to eating dinner in their own house?
But whatever. We’re late, apparently. Why did they spend an hour showing us around if we were late? Who the fuck knows.
We spend no time at all being whisked to our rooms, but I say ‘room’ loosely.
It’s not just a bedroom, it’s a huge bedroom with its own couch and sitting area and a desk and a walk-in closet and a giant, fancy bathroom.
Kira and I get one of these mansion-style rooms to share, but Lexie gets her own because apparently there are like…
a billion rooms in this house? - and then suddenly we’re being summoned by another honest-to-god butler to gather with the group.
The girls panic because we have barely any time at all to change clothes, but the staff has everything scheduled out and we can’t be late.
Why did we have to change clothes, you might wonder? Fuck if I know. But we do. I’m wearing pretty much the exact same thing as before–in the sense that I didn’t change into a tux or anything–but now the shirt is long-sleeved and my shoes are uncomfortably stiff.
I guess now I know that it’s possible to loathe something even when it’s new and expensive, because I hate these fucking shoes.
They tap against the floor too loudly, like heels, and make me feel like I can’t walk right anymore.
Maybe this is why wealthy men walk so stupid–like they need to strut and peacock around to get anywhere. Maybe it’s just their weird shoes.
We go downstairs and through some fucking castle-esque halls and down the giant-ass staircase in the center of the house and pause outside some double doors. Kira nervously adjusts my shirt, brushing off invisible lint. Poor thing, so anxious.
“We’ll hang out in the parlor for a bit, then dinner will be served. We can go right back to our room after we eat. Okay?”
“The parlor?” I parrot, but it’s too late. Lexie is swinging the doors open. I take Kira’s shaking hands in mine and place a kiss on her knuckles, staring into her terrified eyes, as the light spills out onto us both.
“We’ll be alright,” I murmur. Then I wink. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Her shoulders relax, and a timid smile appears.
“Hello everyone!” Lexie sings as she skips into the room. That’s our cue, so Kira and I face the vultures as a united front.
I immediately deduce that parlor is just a fancy name for a room. But as we walk inside, I amend that parlor might actually mean game room. But only games for rich people, none of the good stuff like video games or movies. I don’t even see a board game. Not even Connect Four.
Instead, there’s a billiards table near one wall where a few young men are already playing, a chessboard where one couple is intensely focused on their match, a fully-serviced bar where a few more guests are chatting over delicate glasses of bubbly champagne, and enough books on the wall-to-wall shelf to fill a library.
I count fifteen guests in the room, nineteen including me, Kira, Lexie, and the woman behind the bar.
A word of advice–when you get inside a place you think might not be safe, always count the fucking staff members, too. Too many people discount the staff as potential enemies.
Speaking of enemies, I see ours now, and I zero in on him.
Brian, the blonde idiot who broke Kira’s heart and humiliated her, is shuffling cards at a round table near the bar with a leering grin on his face. Two other guys are sitting with him, joking with him and trying to steal cards out of his hands.
“That’s Gregory and Leonard,” Kira whispers to me. “They’re brothers, and they follow Brian everywhere.”
“Classic mouth-breather behavior,” I mutter back to her. She blinks at me in surprise, then her little hand flies to her mouth to cover her laughter and her eyes crinkle at the corners. I grin down at her until she ends up hiding her face against my shoulder to muffle her giggles.
“Tommy, don’t,” she whispers through her mirth, her eyes twinkling. “We can’t be impolite.”
I sigh. “If you say so, Kira darling.”
“Kira?” A young woman’s voice makes my fake girlfriend stiffen and lose all her amusement.
Suddenly, Lexie is skidding to a stop at our side and linking her fingers in Kira’s other hand, so my frightened fake girlfriend is bookended between us.
I’m immediately on my guard as the newcomer joins our small group.
Ah, Janessa. I recognize the girl from the video. Unfortunately, she’s even more flawless in person. Golden with a tan, stunningly beautiful with perfect features and a great body, wearing her designer dress like it was made for her, and it probably was.
I hate her on sight, because I can tell immediately that Kira is comparing herself to this bitch-ass hoe.
“Janessa,” Lexie greets, her tone saccharinely sweet. “Lovely seeing you.”
“Glad you could make it,” Kira manages, playing the good hostess despite the bad blood.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Janessa says, a seductive smile growing on her face.
It’s a real stunner, too, slow and deliberate enough that I can tell it’s been practiced.
She knows how beautiful she is, and she knows how to appear ‘effortlessly’ breathtaking.
But no one really acts like that, or smiles like that.
Kira flushes and looks down, like she can’t stand to see this paragon of womanhood who stole her boyfriend.
“Th-this is my boyfriend, Tommy Claremont. Tommy, this is my frie–” she almost chokes on the word, and has to cough it out, “--friend, Janessa. We’ve known each other since elementary school. ”
“A new boyfriend?” Janessa asks, all innocent interest and friendly excitement. “It must be new, hm? I haven’t seen anything on your socials about him.”
“Well…” Kira hesitates.
“He is right here,” I chime in. “And Kira has been very respectful of my desire for internet privacy.”
The young woman sizes me up and squares her shoulders at me like she’s trying to hit me with a ray of hypnotism from her chest, like a Care Bear but with her boobs.
“Charmed,” Janessa says, offering a hand, the movement graceful. But it doesn’t even look like she’s offering it for a handshake; she’s doing that movie-princess thing, expecting me to, like, kiss her knuckles, I guess?
I take her fingers in mine and give them a little shake. “Nice to meet you.”
Lexie chokes on a laugh. Meanwhile, Kira appears to be dissociating, a serene smile frozen on her face.
I slide my arm around Kira’s waist, bringing us closer together. I’m sending a silent signal to Janessa that I only have eyes for one woman here.
“Such a cute couple,” she coos at us, like we’re puppies. She looks over her shoulder at the poker table, making sure to flip her silky hair like she’s trying out for a shampoo commercial. “Brian, come meet Tommy. You’ll love him! Aren’t they so sweet together?”
Brian saunters over, smirking at Kira in a way that’s intended to make her feel small. “Kira, a new beau? I swear, you never tell me anything anymore. I thought we’d still be friends, after all. Let’s see the new me.”
He did not just say that. I hate him already.
“Brian Worthington. And you are?” He sticks his hand out to me, and I have an intrusive thought that begs me to grab it and kiss it the way I was supposed to kiss Janessa’s hand.
It’s such a funny thing to imagine that I’m genuinely smiling when I shake his hand. “Tommy Claremont, so nice to meet you.”
“Tommy,” Brian repeats, a little cautious.
My honest cheer and mirth threw him off for a second, but I see the moment he decides that I’m just a moron.
Too stupid to be threatened by his emotional sway over my girlfriend, too clueless to know how he makes her feel, and not important enough to already be in the know about her past with him.
His pale eyes brighten and his smile widens. He returns my handshake with vigor.
“We were just playing poker, if you’d like to join?
” Brian asks, gesturing to the table where the two idiot brothers are leaning back in their chairs and smirking, loudly drumming on the table with their hands.
I hope they fall over. I could push them.
They’d hit the ground so hard. It would be funny.
“I don’t know…” Kira looks away, clinging to my arm.
“I’d much rather get drinks,” Lexie comments, already tugging gently on Kira’s other hand. “And we need to introduce Tommy to a few more people.”
“Bri,” Janessa uses the disgustingly cutesy pet name in a drawn-out, pouty plea. “We’ve been playing for ages. Let’s get drinks together; we can all learn more about each other, wouldn’t that be more fun?”
“Don’t be such a fucking baby,” Brian scoffs callously and rolls his eyes. “You do what you want, I’m not done playing, and I want to have a game with Claremont.”
“But Bri–” Janessa tries to regain control of the conversation.