Waking up fully sane after a club night is something I'm never looking forward to ruining. I do a full stretch and some push-ups before leaving my room to check on the thirsty club girl I managed to sneak in last night. She was way beyond tipsy, if not wasted. I'm sure she attracted whomever it was that gave her a drink with the whole exposed back dress thingy. Noah had better find another girl if he really is trying to impress his Dad. I creak the door slightly open, and she's gone. Exactly what I expected from a club girl.
I spray on my strong cologne to cover the cheap perfume she left behind. Restoring a refreshing scent to the room as I shut the heavy door. It's always closed, just like all the rooms and mouths in this house. You rarely get to see or hear anyone, so it's like we are all just housemates, but I don't care. I'm used to it. I'm used to the loneliness that rested in this house and in my heart since the 16th of June. I'm used to the stinging silence that now sounds like peace; it's a big part of me now. My closest pal.
It's 6:00 am, and I conclude my morning routine before 7. Bath, brush, clean and organize my room, prep breakfast for myself and Jerry, my only responsibility. I toss the plates of rice and nearly burnt chickens into the fridge at 7 on the dot. Jogging out the door.
"Good morning, Liam," the doorman waves at me from the pool area, in his corporate black and white suit. He looks like a diligent law student.
"Hey J," I say through a mouthful of avocado and banana smoothie. It's as sweet as I want it; who cares if men who take sweet things don't last in bed, like I intend on letting an unworthy girl get a share of me? I drive to the gym that's a few blocks away. Close enough to walk to, but I don't see any reason I'd let my face be a regular sight to the people in the neighborhood when I could just drive.
It's leg day. I do a quick warm-up before diving into the main workout. My workout session lasts for 1 hour, and I send the heavy lift rolling to the ground as I unbuckle the waist belt. My light gym singlet is drenched in sweat, so I take it off. I can feel tension build around me from the gym girls, but I really don't mind them glazing over me; I know how irresistible I look. I reach the huge mirror, pulling out my phone for a quick progress picture, tightening my abdomen and biceps to get the perfect shot. My abs look ripped in it, exactly how I like it.
I stroll out of the gym building to my car, feeling burnt out. I'm about to drive off when someone hollers at me. "Hey Lee," what the heck is Lee? It's the girl from the gym whose name I never remember, each time she reminds me.
I watch her walk to my car, turning round to the passenger door. I never said I was going to give her a ride.
"Do you mind?" she asked, attempting to pull the doorknob. I let her in. "How did your workout session go?"
"It was good," I reluctantly say with my eyes fixed on the road. I really think I'm a nice guy. I give people free rides down to their place that must be on the same route as mine.
"Uh, okay…" she said, gripping her fat fancy water-can tightly.
My phone chimes with a notification from Derick, apparently replying to the message I sent him earlier this morning, reading "I just received a yellow suit, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" I thunder a laughter at the thought of him in a yellow suit. Why does he even need a suit? He hates suits. Derick in a suit… at a party. The party, Fuck!
I snatch my eyes away from the road for a minute to notice the gym girl is now engrossed in her phone. I need a girl for tonight. I wish I didn't have to do this.
"You free tonight?"
She looks up at me, her nose turning pink. "Yes, I am," she stutters. I don't like easy girls. She couldn't even ask what the event is about. I can imagine it being a cult reunion party of vampires, and she'd be feasted on. That'll be crazy, though. Which part of my brain even thinks of things like this?
"Cool. You're gonna be my plus one then at a family company event going on tonight," she's getting exuberant, and I'm getting irritated, but I hide it. "I'll have a dress sent to you."
. . .
Derick and Darrel are on their way here. Somehow they'll manage to stay for the next month, I'm sure. They complain so much about Paris that I wonder why they still haven't transferred to New-York to do their internship. The relationship I have with those guys is literally the only good thing Bob did for me. More like allowed. He drove me into isolation in the name of training to take over his company at the age of 16. Who does that to a child? His use of free will is insane. Like when he made me give up high school for homeschool.
I shove the cold rice from earlier this morning into the microwave as I blow-dry my wet hair, checking the stocks while I wait.
Sometimes I torture myself. I use her recipe every single time, even when I know eating the meals that taste just like hers pierces an already severely wounded spot in my chest. I dig into the well-seasoned rice as tears cluster around my eyes. It tastes just like hers.
It's like the aroma of this meal carries her scent. It's like I can smell her. It's like I can see her smile in my head, but it's fading. I feel guilty, guilty that I can't make it stay fresh forever. I miss her.
The party starts at 6 pm, and the few occupants of the house begin to peel from it. The housekeeper first, followed by Jerry, my only brother. I never let him get close to me. I try my best not to let him see a glimpse of the darkness that hovers inside of me. The day that happens, I know I've failed him.
"Liam, wait up." he is sprinting towards me at full speed, and with the look on his face, with a failed break. He reaches where I'm standing, staggering on both feet. I watch without trying to help until he gains his balance. Jerry likes to believe he is an adult and that I'm his best friend, so I treat him like an adult and cooperate on the best friend part.
"What's up, Liam?" he stuffs his fat short hands into his khaki pocket, pulling out a freebie sports car I'm sure he got from a snack bar pack.
"I'm good, are those for me?" I point at the cars that have now multiplied in numbers.
"Nahh, these are for Darrel and Derick," he says, cleaning off sprinkles of sugar on them. "I'll get you one some other time," okay, sir.
The boys pull up in French wear. For once in a long time, I want to laugh till I roll on the floor. Derick got a buzz cut, and Darrel beat Noah to his afro game. They both look so pale, causing Darrel to look like a mop stick with the afro thing going on. Do these niggas even eat?
"Bro, get the fuck off me," I push Derick off, but he comes back in full force, squeezing a hug out of me.
"Man, the house looks so quiet," Darrel observed as we stepped into the unnecessarily large sitting room.
"Doesn't look like the house we spent last summer holiday in, wtf. We're obviously the light and spice to your life. We leave, and you go back to being a sadist," Derick cut in, wearing a very dramatic facial expression. He's right, without them, I am what they say I am. Not the sadist part, but I know I kind of have a boring life.
"It's best this way."
"Nah, we have to make changes on that," Derick says, biting into the leftover chicken I dumped on the table.
"Maybe we will… but after the party, you know Bob hates unpunctuality," I remind them, dragging Derick's luggage up the stairs to the room I already prepared for them next to mine. Darrel tags along, moaning into his phone.
"What, you miss your French girl already?" I tease him.
He has a girl he is madly in love with. Rick said she was his motivation to focus more on his language course since she doesn't speak English. Love is indeed a funny thing. I'm not a fan of such.
"Man, you have to see her."
"Uh, we've seen a million of her pictures on your story." Rick beat me to it. I was going to say that.
"Emotionless humans, that's what you both are. You guys don't get it." Darrel defensively protests to a non-existent mob.
I open my room door for Jerry, letting him help himself with the video game as I slip back into the next room. Darrel is offloading his luggage even after I told him to do it tomorrow. These guys won't make me get to that party late.
. . .
We arrive at the party 10 minutes late, and my phone's already buzzing nonstop with multiple texts from Bob. He's going to lecture me on how I never take his company affairs seriously. How I need to learn from Noah and this and that and that and this. And yes, the famous line, 'I'm doing this for your own good. '
The party is being held in Shanton Hall, a classy but simple space with rows and rows of chairs decorated with expensive silk materials used in wrapping the tables like gift boxes. Colorful, fresh flowers are placed on them with exotic drinks by the side. Couples walking hand in hand with plastered, forced smiles and real diamonds hanging on their necks like the dangling sparkling chandeliers that look like they are being sustained on thin air. I can't spot their hangers. The air is filled with slow jazz music that I'd rather not open my ears to and luxurious flying fragrances. The party high-key feels more like a runway and show-off gathering than just a company end-of-the-year party. My Dad's company is the only company I've ever seen that closes for the year on the first of November. I can't even smell Christmas yet.
I get a notification from Bob. It's just his location. A heavy feeling rests on my chest, but I shove it aside. We haven't seen each other in over two months, even if we live in the same house, but I couldn't care less. It's funny how he thinks he's the best Dad. He feels he's trained me to be exactly like him. Stoned-hearted, manipulative, and smart. All of that I can be, but we are still not the same. My darkness and his aren't.
I mindfully walk out of the hall, spotting Noah exchanging pleasantries with some noble-looking men outside. He takes the networking thing seriously, exactly how Bob would want me to.
I hasten my pace towards the corner of the hall, following the shared location. I met him on his almost burnt-out cigarette.
"Liam… punchuality," he says through his cigar drag, wiping away the smoke dancing in his face.
I open my mouth to talk, but it shuts itself at the sight of the gym girl fully stretched on the long couch that I'm sure Bob made provision for this purpose, in the fucking dress I sent her. She looks astonished and embarrassed, exactly like she should.
I snatch my eyes away from her, "I thought to give you enough time to steal my plus one," I say flatly. I forgot I invited someone.
"You mean this?" he lazily points to Miss Stretchy, the embarrassment smeared on her face, almost growing her a mustache.
If he said anything else, I'm not sure, as I excuse myself to let the love-birds love. I just hope he doesn't kiss all of his speech into her mouth. Because I personally have no emergency speeches memorized.
I crawl into the garage. Away from the noise. Away from the fake networking chatters and want-to-be influencers/workers. If anything, I wouldn't want to be seen in a stupid lifestyle vlog carrying 2000 views and 100 likes.
I wasn't looking for a second, and a short figure blindly bumps into me like a bat in the dark. She looks like she was hiding or taking a break from all the noise, like me. I want to ignore her and proceed to my car, but I'm offended by the cheap perfume she reeks of. Who let her in? I'm still scanning her regular-looking but surprisingly put-together fit when I notice furrowed eyes resembling those of an angry bird on top, enchanting small brown eyes with fake lashes glued to them, staring at me. Only for a flitting second as I watch them go from upset to curiosity. It's the club girl. She's wearing a long-sleeved blue chiffon top tucked into black free corporate pant trousers. How did I think this looked good a minute ago? Did Noah not tell her the theme of the party? Aside from her alluring beauty, I have no other reason to keep staring.
"Oh mon dieu…Uh, Noah's Liam?" Her voice sounds so soothing. I want to bump into her again so she pronounces my name one more time. She looks like she's just seen a ghost, and I'm offended. I'm too good-looking to be a ghost.
"What are you doing here?" she throws me off with that question. More like, what is she doing here? I guess she came to finish what she started last night, but unfortunately, I'm not that hungry. Noah just gives anyone a pass these days.
"Listen, I'm sorry I tried to kiss you last night at the club." Tried? I remember your lips touching mine, but okay. A smirk forms by the side of my cheek. I'm enjoying watching her crash out over a lame kiss.
"I don't know what that was," she continues, "Honestly, I don't know what this morning was either. Waking up in a room that isn't my hotel but…" she has her eyes fixed on the floor while she recites an apology I can't remember demanding.
'It's all just strange to me, but that is my cup of tea to drink or gulp," exactly. Wait what? Drink or gulp? Am I tripping, or is she drunk again? Drink and gulp are like the same things, just in different fonts. "I just need you to understand that that isn't me, and I'd appreciate it if you could keep what happened at the club between yourself and yourself…just far off your friend's ear, Noah. I don't want a shitty story-time about this on the internet. And besides, He was really nice to me yesterday, I can't afford to give off a crazy impression that really isn't mine." Story-time on the net? Who the heck has the time for that?
She let out a heave after the last sentence I missed because she rapped through it.
"For the record, Noah isn't my friend…he is my cousin." Her eyes shoot up, violently planting her green doe-shaped eyes into mine like she's waiting for me to rephrase my statement. I don't. "And the random room you woke up in was my room. You're welcome," she squeaks, eyes widening as she blocks them close with her beautiful, thin fingers. Her perfectly blown-out brunette hair is as dramatic as her; it flies off its bangs, covering half her face.
The tense eye contact and fragile silence that visit the moment feels like a cold beach breeze. I want to go back to a minute ago when she nervously yapped. I was entertained by the drama. Immersed in the distraction, her soothing voice that I'd rather hear than the in between; noise or silence brought. Watching her talk had me dissociating for a minute. From the emptiness that latches onto me like glue. I felt entertained, and I don't want it to come to an end. She feels like a good distraction melting its way through my brain. I need this distraction. Noah wouldn't mind letting this one go for just a short while.