Mulling everything over while I stand in the shower, letting it soak through to my muscles and take away the tension caused by this day, I try to work out what I am going to do.
On one hand, my father wants me to get to know the one-percenters, and if I did as he asked, I might gain more insight into what he’s up to.
On the other hand, the one-percenters hate me, or well Preston and Barrett hate me, because of whatever it is my father is up to.
So, I’m basically piggy in the middle with no way out. Excellent. Resting my head against the shower wall, letting the water run over my back and drowning out any noise from the outside world, I decide to forget about all of it for the rest of the night. There’s nothing I can do right now except see where things go.
Once I’m out of the shower and in my sweats, I go in search of Thomas. I am in desperate need of takeaway food tonight.
I find him in the kitchen, finishing up his dinner alongside Oliver, my driver - yes I did finally learn his name, and no he did not tell me what it was; I had to ask Thomas.
“Miss, can I do anything for you?” He asks, jumping up from his seat when I enter.
“Eh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just wondering how I go about ordering a takeaway in this town?”
Ever my saviour, he pulls out a bunch of menus, from one of the kitchen drawers, for me to flick through. “Just let me know what you want and I will phone the order through for you, Miss,” he replies, relaxing back in his seat and finishing his dinner.
Rifling through my choices, I notice there are menus for literally every type of cuisine one could ever need. As a woman with simple tastes, I settle for a pepperoni pizza, informing Thomas of my choice before heading back to my bedroom.
While I wait for my food to come, I set up Netflix, ready to binge-watch some new series. I hear ‘Sunset Selling’ is worth watching and is based around rich people and their huge mansions, perhaps it can give me some insight into the inner mental workings of the rich. Currently I cannot understand them at all.
Soon the pizza arrives and I finally start to feel the tension from the week ease from my shoulders, as I make my way through several episodes of ‘Sunset Selling’. I can’t say it's given me any insight into rich people, but damn the houses these people can afford are insane. I can’t even comprehend how these people need so much space, and the way they just drop hundreds of thousands of dollars without a second thought is mind boggling.
Having overeaten, and exhausted from my first week of school, I only make it through two more episodes of the show before I fall into a food coma.
I’m woken several hours later by noises downstairs. Looking at my bedside clock I realise it's half one. I’ve noticed every other night that the house is eerily silent, with Thomas likely having retired to his room and my father doing God knows what, but, tonight, I hear a myriad of voices and laughter. It’s possible my father has guests round. No one said he was entertaining people tonight, but then I don’t know if anyone would tell me if he was.
Climbing out of bed, I slip my feet into some slippers and sneak to the top of the stairs, crouching down to hide behind the banister so I can still see the foyer below me, but it should hopefully be difficult for anyone to make out my frame amongst the shadows, should they look up in this direction.
Looking down into the entrance hall below, I can see a group of men laughing and talking to one another as they head towards the front door. The only light downstairs is that streaming in through the open door from the outside lights, so I can't make out many details, and the cacophony of voices makes it hard to understand what anyone is saying.
From what I can see, these men aren’t the typical businessmen I would have imagined my father doing business with. Instead of well-pressed suits and shiny shoes, the men wear loose jeans and leather jackets, the appearance making them look rough. Several of them are sporting long unkempt beards and greasy hair. Gross. If these aren’t businessmen then who are they? And what do they have to do with my father?
One-by-one, the men filter out through the front door and I hear engines being turned on and cars starting to drive away. With fewer people in the foyer now, I catch the end of what the last few stranglers are saying.
" - Can’t wait to see what the boss man's cooking up," one of them says
“Oh yeah, it's going to be a big payday when it all works out!” his buddy exclaims, “These pretentious fucks won’t know what hit them when The Feral Beasts come rolling in,” he continues, both of them laughing as they head outside and close the front door behind themselves.
I have no idea what they were talking about. Bossman? Is that my father? And who are The Feral Beasts?
I notice Thomas wasn't downstairs escorting the men out. I guess he's not privy to these midnight clandestine meetings either.
I'm about to stand and walk back to my room when my father’s voice reaches me from below, "What are you doing?" he bellows up at me.
I can't make out his facial expression in the dark, but I don't need to see his face to know he's pissed. I can hear it in every word he says.
"I eh... I heard a noise. Were you entertaining?” I ask, trying to divert attention away from what I was really up to.
"I had some people over, not that it is any of your business what I do in my house. You shouldn’t be spying on me or my guests, girl!”
“Right, sorry. I should be getting back to bed,” I stammer out quickly, uncomfortable alone in the dark with his sinister presence. Not even waiting for his reply, I hastily retreat back towards the perceived safety of my bedroom.
◆◆◆
Having tossed and turned for the rest of the night, going over what I saw and heard in the foyer, I am awake early the next morning. I can’t work out who these people are or how they are associated with my father. And I heard that guy say ‘bossman’. Was he talking about my father?
Getting out of bed and rushing through a shower and dressing, I hurry down to the kitchen. I’m hoping to get some information out of Thomas about my father and what he thinks is going on in this house.
I’m making myself a coffee from the super fancy Italian coffee machine, which I finally worked out how to use - and makes orgasm-worthy drinks - when just the man I’m looking for walks into the kitchen.
“Good morning Thomas, how are you today?”
“Miss Sophie, I am well. How are you? Are you settling into your routine here okay?” He asks, starting to potter about and tidy things up, even though nothing seems out of place.
“Oh yeah, I’m getting by…Thomas, can I ask you, do you know what it is that my father does?”
“Ah, you would be best to ask your father, but my understanding is that he owns many organisations. It’s none of my business what exactly he does, but it keeps him very busy.”
“Do you know what all the security and the guards at the gate are about?”
Laughing, Thomas replies “You’re father is a very private man, Sophie. I’m sure he has reason to be in his line of work.”
“How long have you known him for?” I enquire, wondering how well he really knows my father.
“Not long,” he muses, thinking over the time frame, “he moved in here and hired me about a month ago.”