|The Twins of St Laluna
Author: LightPrevails PM
I suppose getting a sponsorship from some beyond wealthy guy is quite opportune. But being his intern and living in his mansion with his wife and twin sons…I didn't ask for all that. Even more, one twin hates me and the other can't keep his hands off me!Rated: Fiction T - English - Family/Drama - Chapters: 3 - Words: 16,017 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 22 - Updated: 06-17-11 - Published: 05-31-11 - id: 2919432
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Authors note: I love you guys. Thanks so much for the kind reviews. I'm REALLY psyched about this story so…onwards!
The Truth and Nothing but the Truth
I wasn't able to fall asleep my first night at the Bradshaw Estate.
Even though the night was as still as a statue and I had my Hello Kitty nightlight to scare off the dark, I just couldn't sleep.
The house was so…big.
Everything about it was big.
The bed…"my" bed…IT WAS TOO BIG.
I felt like an infant in the middle of the massive mattress. The covers were suffocating me. The pillows were trying to eat my head. The billowing canopy above looked like Death, waiting to escort me to the underworld.
Thus, my eyes wouldn't close.
And all night I wondered if I would be able to do this internship.
At home, the idea had seemed so simple.
I would live in a beautiful mansion eating succulent foods doing the job I loved for four months. Only four months. I thought it was going to be a breeze!
And yet now, four months sounded like an eternity.
How was I going to last?
It already felt like a ton of people were breathing down my back. It seemed like everyone who saw me was scrutinizing and analyzing me.
It's like they expect something from me.
And what if…what if I can't give it? What if I can't give them want they want?
"Is…is anybody out there?"
I glanced at the clock above the oak wardrobe.
It was 8:30.
Grr…I have work at nine!
If someone didn't bring me breakfast quick, I would have to start work on an empty stomach.
Not that I would mind skipping breakfast. I pretty much did it every day of the week at home.
But today, my stomach was growling especially loud.
I just needed something simple. A bowl of Rice Krispies would do.
Or maybe just a piece of toast.
…Nah. Rice Krispies.
Now Charles had told me yesterday evening of how to get food in this house.
And that was to scream at the top of one's lungs. In his own words, I was a Bradshaw. Now I had to act like one.
But, the idea of shouting and hollering for food and having servants come beckon didn't really settle well with me. So, I skipped dinner last night. I didn't go to the kitchen and I didn't call.
I just sat alone in my room.
That's probably why I'm so hungry now…
But I still can't call, I thought.
It's too rude.
No, I'll just downstairs and find someone.
That will be much more…couth.
I pulled on my favorite pair of worn khaki shorts, a comfortable, oversized blue blouse, and finally a pair of black kicks. I knew I probably should've have put on something a little more…classy. But the most sophisticated thing I had was a dark, wool skirt.
And St. Laluna was SO dang hot. I could literally see the sweat pouring down my arms.
I just wouldn't be able to bare it.
Tomorrow—tomorrow I will go shopping. And I will purchase appropriate clothing. With all the businessmen on this island, there has to be a shop where I can get refined clothes.
But today, my current attire will have to do.
Making my bed, putting my last few articles of clothing in my new closet, and turning off the lights, I departed from my room and into the hallway. It was quiet in the hall. I spotted two maids walking into a room but that was all.
"I just need to find the stairs," I muttered to myself, pacing into another corridor.
My face lit up.
Racing up to the spiraling staircase, I began bounding quickly down the steps and to the second floor.
Unlike yesterday, now I was able to examine and observe the floor as much as pleased.
And now that I could, I found it rather plain. I mean, I know this was where most of the offices were but…couldn't they add just a few decorations?
I was in just one part of it though…
Finding my way easily to the first floor, I received a many glances from workers in the foyer. There were far more maids and menservants on the first floor than there were on the other two floors.
I have to say, it was little nerve-racking weaving through the staff. They all had a purpose—a job. I was the odd-ball out. I probably looked like an idiot as I wandered from place to place.
But I really wasn't wandering. I was just trying to find the kitchen.
And once I decided to take the same route to the kitchen that I had yesterday, I wasn't so turned around. I found the dining room in minute or two. Looking at a clock on a side table, I saw that it was 8:46.
If I hurry, I can have a bowl of cereal and still have time to spare before work!
Bursting into the kitchen, I was met by the frustrated and irked face of Ms. Landry.
Long time, no see…
"What are you doing in here?" she asked, her hands firmly on her hips.
I glanced from left to right. "To…eat breakfast…?"
Ms. Landry ignored my response, leaning down to straighten her pleated skirt. She was wearing the exact same apparel she had when she picked me up from the airport.
"You're not supposed to come to the kitchen for breakfast," she said under her breath, "The servants come to you. And even more, breakfast was at seven. And it is now ten minutes to nine. Don't you have to work?"
Rolling my eyes in reply, I stepped past Ms. Landry and farther into the kitchen. There I noticed Mrs. Bunt wiping down the counter and several other workers beside her.
Although I couldn't stand her, I had to admit that Ms. Landry was right.
Breakfast time was over.
Besides a few dishes, the whole kitchen was immaculate. Breakfast had obviously already been served.
"Miss Gertrude—er, I mean…Tommy," Ms. Bunt said with a smile, "Good morning!"
"Morning," I said, sauntering up to the counter, "Looks like I got down here too late for breakfast. And it wasn't that I woke up late or anything. I just…didn't really know if I should come down or not."
"You should have called for your breakfast, like you were told," Miss Landry said from behind me.
My eyes rolled again.
"I just didn't want to call out for breakfast," I continued, "It just didn't seem right to me. At home, I cook when I'm hungry. So you know, it would just be…weird. Especially putting all of you through the trouble."
Mrs. Bunt put down her rag as I finished speaking. Then she walked around the counter to stand directly in front of me.
"Thank you for being so considerate Tommy but it really is our job. The Bradshaw's haven't sat together to eat in…years. You really should just call someone if you're hungry."
I looked down nervously.
"Thank you, Mrs. Bunt, for being so kind. But if you don't mind…I'd rather just come to the kitchen to eat. I could come every morning at seven so that I don't cause you any unnecessary trouble. And I can come later for lunch and dinner. Then you can do your job and I won't feel awkward. It's a win win situation."
I could tell by her favorable expression that the idea seemed to settle well with Mrs. Bunt.
"Deal," she said, beginning to walk away from me, "But you should at least eat before you have to work. Work on an empty stomach means work not well done."
My eyes looked to the pantry, where she was standing. "Is there any cereal?"
A few seconds passed before I heard a shrill laugh.
It came from Ms. Landry who was still standing behind me. Her laugh was witch-like; similar to a high-pitched cackle. I gave her a momentary look of irritation.
Mrs. Bunt came back, giggling lowly.
"We don't have cereal, dear," Mrs. Bunt explained, "I don't think the Bradshaw's sons have even ever tasted it. They haven't eaten a lot of 'common' food…as they would put it. Candy, hamburgers, pizza—never tasted it in their life. But I do have a few leftover crescents and some sparkling raspberry punch. How would that do?"
I nodded. "That's great."
As I sat down to eat the crescent, I realized it was 8:55. Hurriedly grabbing the bread and the glass of juice, I said my thanks to Mrs. Bunt and then hastily turned to leave.
I was pushing the door open when Mrs. Bunt hollered, "Call me Rosie."
I looked over my shoulder.
"Thanks for the breakfast, Rosie."
Then I raced to the third floor.
Finding the study room that Mr. Bradshaw had designated as my workroom wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I almost effortlessly returned to the third floor. Finding the study took a little more time but eventually I stumbled upon it.
Everything was exactly the same.
It was still as big as ever.
And yet, this time, there was a single man standing at the end of the room. He was wearing a suit like almost every other man on this island.
He had a snide kind of smirk on his face.
He was judging me, like everyone else.
And yet, he seemed to be going about it in a different manner.
With him, it seemed like just looking at me was causing him pain. As if I was just that disgusting.
It made insides twinge as I walked across the room.
Maybe I should've worn the wool skirt after all…
"You must be the little Tommy everyone keeps talking about," the man said in a snake-like hiss. It was like the male counterpart to Mrs. Bradshaw's voice.
I did my best to nod and smile.
Yet another person who knows a TON about me without evening speaking to me…
"Mr. Bradshaw said I'm going to work here," I said, "He told me one of his colleagues would give me my work assignment."
My head fell to the right. "I'm guessing you're the—"
"Colleague," the black haired, glasses wearing gentlemen interrupted, "I am he. My name is Mr. Murphy. That is all you need to know about me. From what I've heard from others, you prefer to be called Tommy."
What "others" is he referring to?
"Um yes," I replied after awhile, "My personal preference is—"
"Well Tommy," he interjected yet again, "My personal preference is to not be here all day. So let me just give you your assignment."
Shifting to the right, Mr. Murphy gestured to what had been hidden behind him.
My eye widened.
What the hell? The…that…that has to be—
"A thousand number two pencils," Mr. Murphy said, even interrupting my thoughts, "Yes, a thousand. And they all need sharpening. When your finished with that, I have a couple thousand more that you can sharpen but for now…just start with these."
He walked forward and then past me.
"I'll be on the second floor. Good luck, little Tommy."
And then he was gone.
I promptly spit out my tongue.
"You are definitely not on my friend list, Mr. Murphyyyyyyy," I muttered as I came upon the hundreds of pencils. They were all organized in silver, metal containers. There were about 25 pencils to a container so…there were a lot of containers!
I sighed. My dad wasn't kidding when he said I would I would be doing grunt work.
What this had to do with designing cars, I didn't know.
But it was the task at hand. And I would do it to the best of my abilities.
…I had that mentality for about fifteen minutes.
But after sharpening thirty pencils, I was pretty done with this job.
"This sucks," I muttered, jamming another pencil into the sharpener, "Whose even going to use all these pencils? It doesn't even make any sense."
I slouched farther into the chair. I was sitting at one of the many desks in the room. I thought it seemed more proper than sitting on the couch.
However, my butt was really starting to ache.
And the sofa looked mighty comfortable.
"I wonder if I'll be doing this every day for the whole four months." This realization caused me to shudder. "I can't take four months of sharpening pencils. I just can't. I'll lose my mind. I will kill somebody. I will—"
Suddenly, I heard the study room door creak. I looked up instantly to the entrance. After sharpening pencils for almost thirty minutes, I think anyone would.
For a few seconds, the door just stood slightly open. The person responsible for the open door did not walk in.
After awhile, I decided that it had just been opened accidentally and I was going to close it when…in walked Charlie.
Then I slumped farther in my seat.
The blonde haired nuisance sauntered into the room, his cheeks rather flushed and his hair tousled. He always seemed to look that way—flustered and messy. I was beginning to think it was his style.
And he wasn't wearing a suit. Instead, he was dressed in khaki pants, like myself, and a black hoodie. And he had no shoes on. Just white Ped socks.
I guess, when he met me, he had been forced to look suitable.
So this was just his normal look.
Glancing up and down for a few moments, Charlie turned his attention to end of the room where I was situated. And a huge grin spread across his previously anxious face.
"Tommy!" he exclaimed, sprinting over to me.
I would have been worried by this abrupt excitement with anyone else.
But with this guy, I expected nonsense.
"Hello Charles," I said nonchalantly, sharpening my 43rd pencil.
He looked over my work space, raising an eyebrow to all the pencils, and then smiled again.
"What are you doing?" he asked, going back to the other side of the room to grab a chair. When he came back, he sat on it backwards, his arms leaning on the back of the chair.
"My job," I muttered, "I have to sharpen a thousand pencils. This guy named Mr. Murphy—" Charlie spit out his tongue "—told me I had to do this. And he said another thousand is waiting for me."
"Oh, he's bluffing," Charlie mocked, "Please. His job is just to be an ass to the interns. Don't take it personally."
I chuckled as Charlie looked back at the door.
"Charles, what are you doing here?" I inquired, "Your dad said that you and your brother have school at this time. Shouldn't you—"
"Tommy, please, PLEASE…call me Charlie."
I shook my head. "Fine. CHARLIE, what are you doing here?"
Charles bit his lower lip, a mischievous dazzle in his eyes.
"I'm skipping school," he said.
My jaw dropped.
Charlie quickly brought forth his left index finger and shook it in my face.
"No need for all that. I skip all the time. In fact, my professor is probably looking for me right now. That's why I decided to come and hide in here. He'll never think to look for me in this place."
…Wha…what…is he serious?
"Are you serious?" I murmured.
Charlie didn't answer me. But his content, self-assured facial expression seemed to tell me that he was indeed serious.
Without warning, he stood up.
He looked over my work area again. And then he crossed his arms and frowned.
"No, this won't do," he said, "This won't do at all. I must admit, watching you sharpen pencils would be rather fun. You are so darn attractive."
I reeled backwards.
Charlie stroked his chin with his forefingers.
"However, I think even I would grow bored. So…how about you do as I do and just ditch your work. Let me show you my house. I'm certain you haven't received a tour yet. And you never will. Our staff is so stupid."
Completely taken aback, I slowly stood up. My eyebrows were scrunched together.
"Are you out of your mind?" I asked, even though I very well knew the answer, "I'm not just going to leave my job. I'm only going to get your father's sponsorship if I impress him with my internship."
Charlie gave me a somewhat uninterested look.
"And your supposed to being doing your studies," I added, "You want to be…to be a chemical engineer…right? You'll never be one if you keep lazing about like this."
"Maybe I don't want to be a chemical engineer," Charlie mumbled.
He stared at the floor when he said this and remained quiet for a moment.
Perhaps, even though I barely knew him, I had hit a heartstring.
I hadn't meant to…but he really did need to get back to his school.
Maybe an apology was in order.
"Oh, you're probably right!" Charlie cried out, his face alight with bliss.
…Or maybe not.
His shimmering eyes danced my way.
"I'll start being a model student…just for you."
Even though I knew it was a complete farce, this boy had a way of making everything he said sound like truth.
"But," he continued, "I'll start tomorrow. Today, you let me show you around."
Quickly shaking my head, I sat back down.
"Look, you can do whatever you want with your life. But I am not messing up my internship. I'm staying here."
"Oh Tommy, please!" Charlie said, leaning against the desk so that his face was close to mine, "Don't tell me you want to sharpen pencils all day. Mr. Murphy won't even know your gone. He never checks up on the interns. And trust me, there has been quite a few."
I pursed my lips.
…I've only sharpened 58 and I already want to kill a small, defenseless animal.
Perhaps leaving for just a few minutes wouldn't be such a—no! No! NO! I am not throwing this sponsorship away.
"I'm sorry but I'm staying here..."
An expression of confusion covered my face.
"Exactly how many interns has your father had?" I questioned.
Charlie waved his right hand. "I don't know. I lost count."
Lost count? How could that many interns mess up? Is it really that easy to mess up?
"Alright then," Charlie finally said, "I guess I'll leave you to your pencil sharpening. I suppose I can go find something else to do."
"Like study?" I retorted as Charlie walked to door. Giving a teasing look my way, he grabbed the doorknob.
"Probably," he said, just standing there. "I mean, I did have this whole plan where you could both do your internship work and tour the house with me but you probably wouldn't be interested. You do seem quite pleased right now. It's a stupid idea anyway. Well…bye, I guess."
Pulling the door back, Charlie disappeared.
And I sat.
I sat for awhile.
I fidgeted with my fingers.
Then I sighed again.
…I can't believe I'm about to do what I'm about to do.
This boy is so darn confusing…and interesting…and…
"Charlie!" I called.
…Instantly, the door opened.
…So he hadn't even left.
A smile was plastered on his rosy face.
I sighed for a third time.
"What did you have in mind?"
Walking around a mansion with a pervert wasn't something I exactly intended on doing during my internship at the Bradshaw's.
But I was now.
And I have to admit, it wasn't half bad.
Charlie's plan was actually quite a brilliant one.
After "borrowing" one of the maids' cleaning carts, he and I organized all of my pencil containers on it and my sharpener. His idea was that while he was showing me around the manor, I could push the cart and sharpen my pencils.
And, believe it or not, it actually worked. To be honest, I seemed to be able to sharpen pencils faster while I walked through the mansion than I did while I sat in the study room.
After a few minutes of walking, I warned Charlie that I wouldn't be able to go down to other floors with the rolling cart.
That's where being on a tour came in handy.
Because the Bradshaw's had an elevator.
And to think, I had raced up all those stairs earlier this morning to get to work on time…
The elevator was rather small and it was a little noisy, but it was also extremely convenient. And even more, it was an antique elevator. Instead of a stainless steel door, a barred gate was what kept one inside. It was just like the ones in old black and white films.
"This is beautiful," I said, pushing the car into the elevator and looking at the old device.
Charlie just smiled, pressing the button that would bring us to the second floor.
He told me inside that even though it was antique elevator from the 1920's it had been renovated in order to assure safety and modern speed.
"Brilliant," I said, stepping onto the second floor.
As Charlie ushered me around the second floor, I discovered that it was set up like four smaller squares within one large square.
Suddenly, it wasn't so boring.
One square was where Mrs. Bradshaw handled her business affairs. I was told by Charlie that she was a rather prominent socialite. I have no idea what a socialite actually does but I guess she's good at it. Another square went to a man named Robert Winsor. Charlie explained that he was his father's right hand man and that the two had been best buddies since grade school. Winsor was Vice President of Bradshaw and Co. and therefore, had his own office space in the Bradshaw house. Charlie tells me that sometimes he even spent the night, as he had no family. The last two squares were for Mr. Bradshaw. Charlie joked, saying his father dealt with so many idiots a day that he needed two office spaces in order to manage them all.
The idea of four squares within a square made even more sense when looking at the decorations of the second floor. Mrs. Bradshaw's area was very, how should I put it, feminine. All the walls in her area were a peach color, the paintings were all of women, only maids cleaned her office, and there were vases full of potpourri EVERYWHERE.
Mr. Bradshaw's two sections were just the opposite. They were simple. White walls, no paintings, not even any rugs. Charlie and I didn't spend very much time there.
Mr. Winsor's section was surprisingly colorful. Several walls were painted night sky blue and others an evergreen. Some were even deep crimson and dark orange. It was rather strange to see such varying paint colors in a business area. But Charlie told me that Mr. Winsor was an interesting fellow of many qualities not yet known to the world. I told him I wanted to meet him. And Charlie told me that I soon would.
After I felt like I knew every nook and cranny off the second floor, Charlie and I took the elevator to the first.
Charlie conversed with many of the workers. And many of them questioned him about skipping class. He played it off wonderfully, making up several believable excuses. They looked at me as well, only a few actually smiling. I was beginning to think Charlie's disdain for his family's staff was justified.
Now that Charlie showed me around the ground floor, it was nowhere near as confusing. On the far left was where most of the libraries were situated. The family had three libraries. One was Mr. Bradshaw's, another Mrs. Bradshaw's, and last was shared by the twins. Charlie laughed, saying he spent so little time in the shared room that the servants referred to it as "Fabian's library." The left side of the first floor was also where two laundry rooms, a few half baths, and the stairs that led to the servants' quarters could be located. Charlie informed me that most of the workers lived below. He said he spent a lot of time down there and with the workers in general, to his parent's chagrin. I asked if Fabian did the same-spending time with the servants.
Charlie just laughed.
He then described the right side of the first floor. This was where several living rooms, the dining room, the garden house, the billiards room, and the kitchen were located.
"I love the kitchen," Charlie stated as we approached the said room.
I had sharpened a good four hundred pencils now. I was feeling quite accomplished.
And even more, I was feeling relaxed.
Somehow, knowing the layout of this house made me feel so much more comfortable. Part of me felt like I fitted it now. I was a Bradshaw…sort of.
And it was all due to this weirdo named Charlie.
Charlie was interesting. He didn't act the way I expected an heir to behave.
He was so…normal.
Like one of the slackers back at my old high school who would skip class half the time to go skateboarding down at the rink next to Burger King.
He was a little bit of an enigma…
I couldn't put my finger on it.
But I think…I kinda liked him.
Not like like!
But a friend like…perhaps.
Perhaps this sexually obsessed idiot wasn't half bad.
"Rosie, ma' lady, how goes it?" Charlie greeted, bouncing like a bunny into the kitchen.
However, he stopped long enough to hold the door open for me. I raised an eyebrow as I pushed my cart inside the room.
Well…that was nice of him.
Once I was completely in the kitchen, Charlie skipped passed me and up to the counter. Only Mrs. Bunt-Rosie-and one other maid where in the kitchen right now. They were chopping a large chunk of meat into small pieces. It looked like beef.
Must be food for lunch…
"Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you? You're parents do not want you in here," Rosie said in an agitated voice. She glared at Charlie, still cutting feverishly.
Okay…she's a beast with the knife, I said, leaving my cart at the door and walking to the counter.
When I came up beside him, Charlie glanced over at me. And he smiled like a hyperactive toddler.
I couldn't help but show my pearly whites in return.
"Oh Rosie," Charlie said, propping himself up on the counter, "You know my parents could care less about who I hang out with. Besides, how can I resist as sexy a woman as yourself?"
Rosie's jaw instantly clenched. I tried but could not withhold a giggle.
So I'm not the only one Charlie flirts with. That's nice to know.
"You're charm and wit won't get you anywhere with me," she rejoined.
With a smarmy shake of the head, Charlie reached across the counter to grab a ripe, yellow apple out of a fruit bowl. Biting and then ripping off a large piece, he winked at the maid standing next to Rosie. The maid's cheeks instantly reddened as her head fell.
"Stop your patronizing and go back to school…where you belong!" Rosie said, hands on her hips.
"Now what would be the fun in that?" Charlie retorted, "Besides, I've been showing Tommy all around the house. Isn't that splendid of me?"
Rosie eyed me.
I shrugged with a goofy grin.
After urging and beleaguering Charlie a bit more, Rosie gave up on him and turned her attention back to preparing the food. I watched as she and the other maid began making what I decided was beef stew. Charlie watched as well, helping me sharpen the pencils.
I liked this very much.
"Alright, I have to go make sure Alisa has my grocery list right," Rosie said, "She always seems to get it wrong. Come along."
Rosie motioned for the maid and the young lady followed behind Rosie like a baby duckling. Charlie took the time to wink at her again which only made her face redder.
I smirked as Charlie and I became the two lone souls in the kitchen.
"You are pervert," I said. Then I groaned.
I hadn't planned to say the statement aloud.
Charlie turned around in the island chair, staring at me.
"And?" he said.
"And nothing," I quickly replied, "You're just a pervert. Well…not just a pervert. You're an…an interesting pervert." I pursed my lips. "An interesting, tour guide pervert. And that's a good thing. Because, at this rate, you won't make much of a chemical engineer."
Gazing at me awhile longer, Charlie leaned forward.
He was WAY too up in my personal space.
His eyes darted here and there as he studied my face.
"You are without a doubt," he whispered, "The most dumfounding intern I've ever had the pleasure of showing my house to. And I'm not certain yet, but, perhaps one of these days, I will kiss you."
Slowly turning my head so that I was gawking at my lap, I breathed in uneasily.
"It was just a pun," I muttered, "I don't think that warrants me being 'dumfounding' nor deserving of a…kiss."
A few seconds later, my heart skipped a beat.
…I could feel his breath against my ear.
"Maybe it does," he whispered softly.
My heart skipped another beat.
I could almost feel his lips against my ear.
Oh Tommy, what have you done?
You've aroused the pervert…without even trying!
He might be a friend…be he is a friend your going to have to keep a watchful eye on.
Before you know, he'll—
"And so the prodigal twin has been found."
And then his lips left me.
And I was admittedly a little disappointed.
Looking at Charlie, I saw that his eyes were now locked on the kitchen door. So I looked there as well.
When my eyes fell upon him, his full name ran through my mind.
When a guy looks as sophisticated and polished as Fabian does, he deserves to be referred to by his full name.
Charlie snickered when he saw his brother and than revolved back in his seat so that his back was to Fabian.
The scowl on Fabian's face darkened.
"Do you know what I've been through?" he said, pacing forward.
He even walks stylishly…
But his voice betrays him.
He sounds so young.
"I'll tell you…" Fabian said between gritted teeth. Charlie sighed.
"Your dimwit professor, after interrupting my professor in a panic, told me that he couldn't locate you. He said that he turned to write something on the blackboard and that when he turned back around you were gone. So he ran to and fro, searching for your ass and couldn't find it. And instead of getting one of the staff to find you, he came and got me. How noble of him!" Fabian paused, glanced at me, scoffed, and then turned back to his inattentive twin. "And then, he begged me to find you. And like some servant, I've been searching for you all around this damn mansion. Come to find out from Mrs. Bunt, you've been showing the new intern around our house like its some fairground."
"And now…" Fabian said, taking a deep breath, "After a good fifteen minutes of looking for you, I find you in the kitchen. The kitchen. The room father and mother have both forbidden for you to be in. I would ask you to explain yourself. But, I find, I don't need one. You sitting in an island chair, looking like moronic, homeless, mindless pig is explanation enough. …And with one of the servants no less."
Fabian's eyes shifted over to me again, sizing me up once more.
Charlie looked me over too. Something in his gaze told me not to be offended.
Then he cynically smiled at Fabian.
"Oh Fabian…you're here!" Charlie shouted in piercing voice, "The sound of a prissy little bastard's voice kept ringing in my ear. I scarcely heard you arrive."
"Bite it, filthy imp," Fabian spat, "Just get back to class so your professor can get his panties out of a twist. And put on a suit, for God's sake. You look like one of those penniless ruffians from downtown."
"Maybe that's the point, you prudish moron. Don't you have someone to kiss up to somewhere? Tommy and I were having a wonderful time. Mostly because you weren't here."
Suddenly, Charlie wrapped his left arm around me and jerked me close. I knew was probably shaking. I hoped he didn't notice.
Well this is…comfortable.
He's rather warm.
Strange. I expected him to feel…different.
It is just his arm though.
…And yet, Fabian Bradshaw keeps looking at us like it's so much more.
And what is with these two?
"Tommy is good girl," Charlie said, glimpsing down at me, "I think she'll be good here. She talks."
What kind of compliments are those?
And what is with these two?
"Just get back to class…" Fabian muttered, inching away.
"Ass…" Charlie mumbled.
"Bugger…" Fabian said behind his back.
Flipping up the bird, Charlie looked back at me and beamed. As if I was supposed to congratulate him or something.
I looked at him with confusion.
Then I heard a loud crash sound off in the distance. Giving a glimpse to the door, I determined where it had come from.
"Sorry," I murmured, rushing over to my pencil cart, "So sorry. I didn't mean for this get in the way."
I could feel Fabian's revulsion attacking me on all sides.
Being in his presence was so much different than being in Charlie's.
With Charlie, I felt like myself. I felt in control.
But with Fabian, I felt completely out of sorts.
And the fact that my pencil cart had just tripped him wasn't helping me any.
"Sorry," I said for the billionth time, "Sorry…I won't…I won't-"
"Gertrude, is it?" Fabian interrupted as I pulled the cart away from him, "Look, I don't know what my inane brother sees in you, but to me you are just an intern. And, intern, I have one piece of advice for you.
His eyes narrowed.
"Don't get too comfortable. My father replaces interns like Charlie replaces his bimbo, skank girlfriends."
"…So enjoy your time here. Because soon…someone else will be pushing that cart."
And then, walking out just as classy as he had walked in, Fabian disappeared.
And I couldn't move.
…I've never been insulted so politely in my life.
I don't even feel offended it was so gracious.
…What the freakin hell?
"Oh, did I forget to mention? My brother and I loathe each other."
I twirled around, almost falling to the ground. I was still in shock.
I gawked at Charlie.
"Perhaps you forgot to mention that…yes…" I said breathlessly.
Charlie snickered, his eyes lighting up some. "But I think…I think he hates you more! Oh Tommy, I think you're perhaps the best intern ever! Come on, I have so much more to show you!"
Jumping out of his seat, Charlie raced across the kitchen floor and grabbed my hand. I had just enough time to grab the handle of the cart and drag it behind me as Charlie pulled me out of the kitchen.
No, I didn't have time to feel offended.
I didn't even have time to think about Fabian and his hatred for me and Charlie.
I could only try to keep up with this boy.
This boy who showed me his house and made me feel at home.
Authors note: I hope you all liked it! I enjoyed writing it. I now love Charlie. Just love him. I don't know about Fabian yet. He's still growing on me. I'll try to update soon! Oh, and I have a new poll on my profile. Check it out!