Chapter 49
CHRISTOPHER
My duffel bag feels heavier than I remember it.
So do my feet as I amble around Hellman Hall, aimlessly wandering through doorways as though it will make my presence a little more known.
Honestly, Hell Hall really did have a better ring to it.
“Oh, and there’s the kitchen! I made sure the maid knows to clean your favourite mug every night so it’ll be ready for you in the morning.”
Cruella’s voice carries through the art prints and bleached furniture, a steady rhythm that’s grown more unfamiliar throughout my stay here.
I round the corner and spy the spotted fur coat draped along her shoulders. White with black spots, it would seem her intentions as a pet owner did not hold up as long as she’d expected.
“And the cream?”
“Full fat, just how you like it.” A breathless answer that pairs perfectly with the silk gloves pressing against his chest, “You know I always take care of you.”
“Mm.”
The Colonel makes a noncommittal sound, his stark gaze scrutinizing as he looks around the present his newly wed gifted him.
I never understood how these men could fail to see how good they have it. How their presence could put stars in my mother’s eyes and a spring in her step the way mine never could.
Then again, I never understood how my mum could look at another human and see a meal ticket.
“Oh, Christopher.” Pausing mid-sentence, Cruella fails to hide her wince, “I forgot you were heading out today. Have you met the Colonel?”
“Nope, and I don’t think I need to.”
The man in question turns his head at my blunt tone. Raises the edge of his bushy moustache slightly, the start of a smile that isn’t deemed worthy enough to see through.
“Ah, yes. The runaway son.” Brisk and to the point, the Colonel leaves no room for interpretation, “You mentioned he was passing through.”
“On his way out, actually.”
I interject cheerfully, cutting off whatever my mother was going to say.
“Got a party to crash and a plane to catch.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him-
“You were invited to the Dragon’s gala?” Curiosity sparks in his eyes, “On what business?”
“Mostly pleasure, but you never know how the night is going to end.”
It’s a cheeky response, and based on Cruella’s glare, the Colonel isn’t a man who enjoys easy banter.
“Christopher was just leaving, weren’t you darling?” Her lips pinch together in an unflattering expression, “Lots of business to attend to.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Guess I wanted to say goodbye.”
An awkward silence descends upon the group.
“Well, goodbye.” Clearing her throat, Cruella returns her attention to her beloved, “As I was saying, if we take a trip to the tearoom you’ll be able to see…”
I listen to her fill the void of the room with nothing but air. Useless, meaningless air that has me opening my mouth one last time.
“Oh, and mum?”
She totters, balancing on stilettos that must pinch her toes something awful.
“I’ve found a home now.”
Words that don’t mean much to the woman I’m saying them to, but it sure feels fucking good to get them off my chest.
“Friends, family… people who love me.” I falter, wondering why the truth hurts just as much as it comforts, “I’ve made a home for myself. Found a place I can call my own.”
Dark eyes, identical to mine, don’t so much as blink. They just stare, bore into my soul as Cruella looks at the son she never wanted to find.
And after all this time, I've realized that maybe it was best I was never found.
“I’m happy for you, Christopher.” Her mouth shifts into a smile laced with sorrow, “Really.”
It’s not the reunion I was hoping for but it’s something else.
An acknowledgment, a piece of the past I can finally put to rest.
“It was nice meeting you, Colonel…”
“Rourke.” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkle momentarily, “Colonel Rourke Hellman.”
“Right.” I give him a nod, “Best of luck with this one. She’s got an affinity for animals, you know.”
“Oh, hush.” Flapping her hands, she’s quick to wave off my comment, “Those pups are safe and sound in a warehouse somewhere.”
“Pups?”
“Nothing, my love. Just a pet project of mine.” Offering her husband a blinding smile, Cruella turns to me with a sniff, “Don’t tell me you’re attending a gala in that attire, Christopher.”
“Nah, I’ve got a penguin suit in the trunk.”
“In the trunk? Good God, child. Did you remember to pack an iron as well?”
At my blank expression, she sighs, “Never mind then. Run along.”
A dismissal that puts a grin on my face, the kind of grin that doesn’t waver as I hop in my car and start the engine. Punch the gas and go tearing out of Hell Hall with one less expectation sitting on my chest.
Pulling out my phone, I open up the group chat that’s been ignored for far too long.
ME: It’s showtime.
HORACE: About fucking time, mate.