Chapter 1 #2
“Oh, how fun,” Ezio says as he puts himself in Cyrus’s car. I quickly climb in the back seat while Cyrus stands in the parking lot holding his dinner and staring at the car that we’re eagerly waiting in.
He gets in and looks over at us. “It’s not exactly… a field trip?”
“We’re here for moral support,” I assure him.
“Oddly enough, that’s something I don’t quite need,” he says. “I could possibly get away with taking Ezio, but how exactly do I explain you, Yorick? That you were bored and wanted to see a crime scene? Are you just going to allure everyone you encounter into thinking you should be there?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say.
“It was sarcasm.”
“Hmm…” I deflate, falling against the car door in misery. “I suppose I will go walk this lonely earth with nothing to comfort me.”
“How exactly are you managing to make me feel guilty for doing my job?” Cyrus asks thoughtfully.
“When you reach your crime scene, don’t regret not taking me,” I say as I reach out and run my fingers across Cyrus’s face and then Ezio’s. “Remember me.”
“I… definitely feel like I’ll remember you sticking your fingers in my mouth,” Ezio complains as his face scrunches up… certainly from delight.
“I am pleased to hear that I’ve made an impact on your life.”
“You’ve mostly impacted my mouth,” Ezio says.
“Everyone knows the road to the heart is through the mouth.” I give him a warm smile, pat them both on their heads as one final farewell, then get out of the car before reluctantly getting into my own.
Now where should I go? Most of the rest of the people here seem to hate me, and I don’t know anyone else in the area.
I suppose I could go to a bar or club. It wouldn’t take long for me to find someone who’d take me home.
I never lack eyes on me… but all of those people just want sex.
And I’m bored of “just sex.” But wouldn’t having someone there be better than going home alone?
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I consider that option.
“Fuck,” I mutter before driving to my home. It’s a small house, since I don’t need anything larger—it’s not like I often have anyone over.
I head inside and park my ass on the couch as I grab the remote and turn the TV on.
It’s so incredibly boring here. There’s nothing to do.
No one to talk to. I feel listless while I flop this way and that on the couch.
Has the couch always been this uncomfortable?
Maybe I should make Atticus buy me a new one. Or maybe it’s not the couch but me.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone. Deciding that maybe violence will make me feel better, I click on Atticus’s name.
Me: I hope Johnny shaves your head.
Atticus: That’s the best threat you can muster? How pitiful, Yorick.
Me: At least I’m beautiful.
Atticus: It’s a good thing because if your outsides matched your insides, people would run from you in fear. Now, some of us might have nothing better to do than toss insults at others, but I’m a busy man.
Me: Busy making your butler do your bidding?
He doesn’t text back, which just annoys me more, so I send him a friendly “It’s too bad you’re not as pretty as me to make up for your horrible attitude” and toss the phone on the couch.
Begrudgingly, I lean back to watch a movie.
When it’s over, I find that it’s only eleven PM and I have a whole night ahead of me.
And even worse than that, Atticus never responded to my jab, which makes me mad.
I decide that maybe cleaning the house is in order. Ooh, or maybe I will do some yard work.
Yes, I will prove to Atticus that I can do things that he claims I can’t. Including getting dirty.
I head outside and look at the monstrosities growing in the flower bed. Really, when did the weeds get so tall? I procure a shovel from the garage and pull off the sticker marking it as brand new before I hack down one weed and smile, pleased with myself.
Then the next one tears my flesh open and I glare at it as my hair gets stuck in a branch, leaving me in a battle for my life against some weeds and a branch.
I come out bloody and disheveled with my hair ripped from its bun and hanging in my face. Furiously, I throw the shovel.
I was raised as an earl’s son. My father was one of the richest men in the area and I wanted for nothing. I was a precious child who was so adorable that absolutely everyone doted on me and gave me everything I wanted. I was set up for a bright future with everything handed to me.
Until they were all slaughtered.
And then everything went to hell.
Even now, hundreds of years later, it’s still hell.
I stand there staring at the weeds and sigh before retrieving the shovel and completing the front flower bed with a bit more blood, a lot more dirt, and some hair missing.
But once it’s done, I feel so pleased that I take a picture and send it to a group text between all of my lovely friends and my one nemesis.
Julian: That looks so much better than the last time I saw it! I thought I’d lost Gustov in it that time.
Casimir: It’d sicken me to see what it looked like before if you consider this better.
Cyrus: What am I even looking at?
Atticus: You also hacked out the rosebushes. Was that intentional?
I stare at the bushes that do perhaps look a little roselike and frown as I vaguely remember such a thing existed. No wonder it was so painful pulling them up.
Me: Intentional, of course.
Casimir: HA. What a fool. He didn’t know they were roses. Do I really trust him with my dog?
Julian: Just because he didn’t know that the big thorny bush with large flowers that were about to bloom was a rosebush doesn’t mean that he can’t take care of Gustov. He only has to feed the dog.
I scowl at my phone while I wonder if all of them are my enemies and not just Atticus.
Me: I’m removing everyone from this group who has dissed me.
[Atticus removed from the group]
[Casimir removed from the group]
I gaze at Cyrus’s text, trying to decide the level of sass that was included in those words, and then Ezio didn’t even have the decency to reply!
[Cyrus removed from the group]
[Ezio removed from the group]
Julian: So… you could have just switched over to a text with only me in it.
Me: You are the only nice one. It’s almost as if the angels graced you from birth to have a kind heart.
Julian: I’m not so sure that happened. But we’re still good for tomorrow. I’m positive you’ll take excellent care of Gustov. Much better care of him than you did those rosebushes.
[Julian removed from the group]
“There. Perfect,” I say, giving the rosebush an extra kick before I go back into the house to clean up and debate whether I could sleep from now until it’s time to drive to Julian’s to care for Gustov.
I sigh then quickly add everyone back to the group, even Atticus, and head for a shower. After that, I flop down on my bed and lie wide awake, wet hair splayed out on my pillow as I stare at the ceiling for hours.
How fun.