VEINS

V4: Strange Encounters

V-4-Matthew

How the hell did I get past the doors?

I mean, look at me.

My best suit is shabby compared to the extravagant furniture made of slivers, golds, and even... diamonds. Genuine diamonds. The huge, grand, glittering kind. My eyes travel around my body once more.

My shoes look worn and they're definitely not from a discount store. My hair is sloppily pressed down with some water. Even the suit and shoes can't hide how poor I am compared to all the sparkling ceilings and walls.

It feels like I've stepped into heaven on Earth.

It wouldn't hurt if I just looked around a bit more, right?

My legs carry me around past the massive white marble fountain that acts as the centerpiece of the lobby. Even walking slowly it's hard for my eyes to take in the sights: the gold wide open dome ceilings touch the clouds as sunlight pours in from the glass openings. Diamonds and gems hang from the chandeliers dotting every dip in the ceiling. Murals and paintings that look as if they've been painted by Michelangelo himself, embellish the walls.

Woah, and the furniture. I stalk closer to the royal-looking couches and seats, my fingers running over the smooth textures.

Vibrant and bright fabrics that are literally gleaming.

It's that type of extravagance that looks like true quality; Like, it's actually expensive for a reason.

At least one time in my life.

At least.

I should indulge in this heaven. Or...at least do it to get over what happened earlier.

Either excuse works.

I'm ready to toss myself into a soft hug when a firm hand grabs my shoulder.

Great.

"You don't look like you belong here." The voice is sharp and blunt. I should have known multi-billion dollar companies have protection. I really couldn't have expected to get far without security coming to get me. In fact, I was lucky I managed past the parking lot and even got into the lobby. In steady, slow movements, I turn around.

“Um.” I gulp. “Hey. Hey. Um. Look, I'm sorry, I-I just happened to stumble in here. I’m just um…” I search for some excuse. “Um... I’m looking for the bathroom.” I whip around. “I found it so I was just leaving!”

“Hold on.” The firm hand tugs me around to face him again. 

Crap. Crap. Crap. Why do I always have such bad luck? What am I magnet for all things terrible? 

“Sir, I really was just leaving!” I hurried out, anxiety burning into my flushed skin. “Please believe me---.” My tongue knots in place, and my jaw locks agape. 

The man who confronted me was nearly sparkling some portrait of an adonis. He's not much taller than me but exudes the confidence that in a lot of ways just makes him feel taller. Right off the bat, I can tell from his easy-going smile and well-fashioned designer suit just what he isn't. In fact, maybe he’s some Calvin Klein model or celebrity----whatever it is, he’s definitely not someone a regular person like me would come across in my lifetime.

“Uh?” I blink, trying to adjust my sight to his glowing aura. “You...you’re not security, right?” I question, furrowing my brows. 

"Of course not. Just in passing such as you." He smiles again, and instantly I’m both emasculated and jealous. 

This guy has a pair of perfect white teeth and a virgin killer smile. Both of those are things I dreamed about having since I was just an awkward high school boy. I thought puberty would one day turn me into some fountain of testosterone chad level lady killer, but obviously, at 23 years old, I realized such a day would never come for me. But, oh boy, did this guy’s day come.

"I’m Dionysus, but you can feel free to call me Dion." He shakes my hand. “You are?”

"Uh hi.” My hand feels flimsy in his iron hand grip. “I’m Matthew. No neat nickname like you." I pull my hand back from his overly friendly gesture.

“No neat nickname?” Dion tilts his head. “How about Matt?”

“Matt? I mean, I guess.” I shrug, standing taller and puff out my chest. 

“Matt it is.” He lightly chuckles. “Well, Matt, I walked up to you because you---.” He stops to scan me from head to toe. “Well, you were looking out of place, and not so well. A bit distressed, I might say. Did something happen?”

“Distressed?” I scratch the back of my head, memories of what happened earlier rushing through my mind. “Well?" I try to find the words, "Distressed is a pretty good word to describe it."

I already know I look disheveled and mangled, but geez, is it that obvious?

"Bad day?" He asks, practically seeing right through me. 

"Easy way to put it.” I sigh and shake my head. 

"Okay, I've got a guess. Are you so stressed because of a failed job interview?" He says that as if he were standing in the room with me earlier. 

Shocks nibbles away at me, and my eyes grow into saucers. "How?" It's hard to hide the lightning that strikes me. “How did you know?” 

Does the entire world just know I'm a failure? Including that, how did he even know in the first place? Something as specific as that is way too on the mark. There’s no way he could have known that unless…? My mind runs wild. 

It can’t be. 

It shouldn’t be. 

Having crazy accuracy like that? There's no way that he could have done that unless he’s...is this dude some psychic or something? I peer at him, watching his calm features remain unfazed by my bafflement. 

Psychic? 

I almost laugh at myself. Things like that don’t even exist. 

"Oh, and if you’re wondering how I know, it's because of your clothes and the fact that you've just confirmed it." He replies, as if he read my confused thoughts. 

Well, that explains that. But still. The fact that he came to the conclusion that I'm a loser who fails job interviews, irks more than it should. It makes me feel small, and like a complete, utter loser, a loser who is not exactly in the mood for talking.

"...Yeah. I’m surprised you could figure that out. You were spookily on target, Sherlock,” I weakly said, and cleared my throat. "Well, I’ve got to get out of here. It was nice to meet you, or something, but I'm a bit busy. So, if you could just excuse me."

In other words, I'm really defeated and I suck at small talk, especially with walking adonises. I should go home before I run into actual security. Lowering my head, I make the move to leave.

"Wait, hold on, you’re leaving so soon, Milo? But I may have some good news for you." He says, his urgency stopping me. 

“It's Matthew, and yes, I'm leaving because it's obvious I don't belong here and shouldn't be here and—!” I furrow my eyebrows.

Some good news for me? Did I hear that correctly? I turn around and face him directly.

"I'm sorry what?" I questioned. 

At the sight of puzzlement, Dion widens his glistening smile.

"Matt." He places a hand on my shoulder. "I need your assistance."

“My assistance?” I blink. 

“Think of it like being hired for a job.” He smiles. 

What? What? What? Whaaat?? 

My brain is malfunctioning as I stare at him. 

"H-huh? I'm sorry? Hire me? For what?" I sputter out.

"I want you to do a job in my place." His stretched lips once more flash pearly white teeth. "I can pay right now."

"What?" My mouth hangs open. I can't seem to form words.

This can’t be happening. 

Dion wraps an arm over my neck and before I can respond, I'm being swiftly whisked across the lobby to the elevator doors.

"I need you to go to the 99th floor." He smacks a heavy wad of cash into my hand. “When you get there, tell them you're here for the job." He steps back glancing around the lobby.

Is this really happening?

"Wait, wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Words are spilling out from my hanging mouth. “What are you saying? What are you doing? I can’t do that, and you can’t just hand me----!” I choke on my words the moment I feel the cash in my hands. “Woah, woah! Hey, hey!” I gape at him. “Why are you giving me this, I can’t do—." He cuts me off.

"Milo,” he firmly says. “Don’t say no, just do it.” 

I glance at the cash and then back to the adonis in front of me. 

“But I can’t---.” He interrupts me again. 

“Once you get there, you'll know you're in the right spot because it’ll be just like entering a Vampire’s lair." He smiles. 

“Vampire’s lair…?” I fumble for words. 

“You’ll know what I mean.” He remarks with confident glee.

“How will I even---.”

"Hey.” He stares me in the eye. “Milo, you're going to do great. I know it." He smirks and presses the elevator call button. “Ah, one more thing.” He searches his pockets. “You might need this." A sleek black card lands into my other hand.

"Good luck, Milo." He smiles brighter than the sun and encouragingly pats my shoulder.

“Right.” I nod. “99th floor. I'm going to do great.” I walk right into the elevator 

“Bye, bye!” He waves at me as I step inside the elevator. 

“Wait.” I blink a few times. “What? I'm not Milo, and I didn't agree to do anything!” I take a step out of the elevator.

“You’ve got this.” Dion shoves me back into the elevator. 

"But-what-wait!" The elevator starts to close, but I hurriedly press the open button. “I can’t do this! Sir! D-Dion?” I shout, glancing around the lobby. But I’m doing nothing but speaking to air because the Dion guy is officially gone before I can blink.

      TO BE CONTINUED IN VEINS!