Chapter 2
1043 Words
2
“You ready for tonight?” Devon asked me twelve times before lunch.
That was one of the benefits of having a mom on faculty. You could swing it so your best friend was in all your classes. Bonus: you’re less likely to get beat up with your super cool best friend around all the time. Extreme drawback: no girl will ever notice you with your super cool, über chick magnet friend around all the damn time. It’s fine though. Maybe I’ll get a girlfriend when I’m thirty. Or in the nursing home. Either way, it’s bound to happen eventually, right?
“So the plans are all set?” Devon asked again as we left school.
I turned to him to ask what the hell plans he thought I should have made, but at that very second, Elizabeth waltzed out the school door and onto the sidewalk in front of us. I don’t want to sound stupid or lovesick or anything, but I swear when Elizabeth walks, she glides on the air. Some guardian angel hauls around a giant fan to make Elizabeth’s blond, perfect, curly hair blow gently behind her. Her eyes sparkle like she klepto’d stars and uses them as contacts. Except she would never steal anything because she’s the kind of girl who saves puppies, runs fundraisers for the theatre department, and helps lost tourists get out of Hell’s Kitchen.
Elizabeth Wick is perfection.
“Close your mouth, man.” Devon pushed my jaw shut. “Girls don’t dig mouth-breathers.”
“It doesn’t matter what I do.” I shook my head, running my hands through my hair, which really did need cutting. “Elizabeth will never think I’m anything more than her favorite teacher’s dorky son.”
One of the basketball players was chatting up Elizabeth by the fence that covered the school’s ground floor windows, his hand on the metal bars, leaning over her like she was his lunchbox. For an umpteenth time, I wished I was…say, a basketball player with a weird-looking letterman jacket who was cool enough to talk to Elizabeth Wick without tripping over himself while managing to say words that could be recognized as a part of the English language.
“Bryant,” Devon enunciated, none too subtly indicating he had been trying to get my attention. “Are the plans all set for tonight? For Le Chateau?”
“What? Yes. The plans. The plans are all set.”
“Awesome!” Devon strolled around the corner from school and headed downtown. I trotted to catch up.
We walked in silence for two blocks, cutting south and then east. Away from where all the other kids from school would be heading. It was the rule I set up three years ago when I finally let Devon in on the big secret.
When we got far enough away, Devon hailed a cab. I told the driver the address. As soon as the door closed, Devon launched into his weekly spiel. It was kind of annoyingly endearing. With more annoying than endearing. But what d’you do? It was tradition.
“Man, this one is going to be epic! Are you sure everything we need is going to be there?”
“I put in all the orders online.” I watched Central Park whiz by. “Drake is going to have everything we want.”
It only took about five minutes in the cab. We could have walked, but it was against the rules. Cabs only when going to Le Chateau.
The cabbie pulled over and let us out. I tossed him the cash for the fare and a hefty tip―because why not―and we headed to the door.
There was a new doorman that night. All dressed up and shiny. “Good evening, Mr. Adams,” he said formally even though I had never seen him before. It was kind of funny to think of doorman training involving learning to recognize my face.
“Good evening, Mr. Adams,” Drake said from behind his desk as soon as we walked in. “Mr. Rhodes,” he added, nodding to Devon.
“Drake.” Devon nodded back, looking all stiff. Like any normal person, the only time he’d be caught dead in a building like this is when he came here with me.
“I have your order.” Drake pulled three pizzas, two bottles of soda, and a bag from behind the desk.
I took the pizzas and sodas while Devon opened the bag.
“Sweet! I told you it would be epic!” He brandished the new video game we had picked for this week.
“Thanks, Drake.” I kicked Devon in the ankles to make him move to the elevator.
Le Chateau looked out onto Central Park from the top floor of the building. Well, really, it was the top floor of the building. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I saw me. Well, me from two years ago in a portrait of me and my dad he had commissioned for some unknown reason.
“Hey, Dad,” I muttered to the portrait. “Good to see you again.”
“Go do your rounds, Bry, and let’s get started,” Devon called as he flicked on the giant TV that sat in front of the big leather couch.
“Yep,” I called back before walking to the kitchen.
It was my job to check the apartment every week. My dad’s place. He travels all over the world for work, so I’m lucky if I get to have coffee with him once a month. But he kept this monstrosity in New York so I could have a home with him. And since I’m a minor who shouldn’t be staying in an apartment alone, I got paid for “weekly chores.” I don’t know how much. It’s all a business disbursement, but the financial advisor he sent me to last Christmas said from the funds I got deposited in my housesitting account, I could get a few doctorates and never eat Ramen.
I walked through the kitchen, checked the empty fridge. Then all three of the bathrooms for water damage. Looked over the guest rooms, my dad’s room, my room. I mean, he designated it my room, but really, I only ever slept there the day after my birthday every year, so I don’t know why he didn’t let other people stay there. He could have made a killing as an Airbnb. Not that he needed more money.
I finished my rounds and headed back to the living room. Devon had already opened the first pizza.
“All good in Le Chateau?”
“All good.” I picked up my controller, ready for battle.
- Writer
