When The Rich Son Falls

Four

Everything was as bad as Topher thought they would be, if not worse.

The humidity, to start with, was just horrible. It made his skin feel sticky, it made the air he breathed heavier, and his hair gained twice the volume that he did not appreciate. It wasn’t a good start.

Then, there was the heat. Oh, the sweltering, skin-tingling heat that made it feel like he was in the middle of summer, when it was supposedly springtime. He was sure that even in the shade or a closed building, the UV rays were already destroying his skin. That, in addition to the heavy air surrounding him, made him feel like he was either being slow-cooked in the oven, or left to perish in a locked sauna bath.

“Dread” was the word that best described how Topher felt then and there as he took a step out of the airport. He had half a mind to come running back to his family, just beg for forgiveness, and hope that they’d send him somewhere that knew winter. He would even take UK’s gloomy, rainy weather all-year round than this equivalence of hell on earth. But it was already too late. Whatever judgement awaited him at home would now be tripled since he had already tried to run away. So, he stood by his decision and took an airport cab.

“The Bay Hotel,” he told the driver, who kept staring at him through the rearview mirror. The inside of the vehicle smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat, and the air conditioner whirred like it was dying while giving off unsteady bursts of warm air. Topher could feel perspiration forming on his forehead and dripping down the side of his face in the uncomfortable, smelly heat. The fact that the cab driver kept glancing at him instead of keeping his eyes on the road didn’t help either.

“You okay back there?” the man asked as they ran a yellow light.

Topher wiped on his forehead with a handkerchief and tried his best to smile reassuringly. “Yes, thank you,” he politely lied. That was the thing about Christopher Stevens—despite the money and privilege he was freely handed, he always tried to be nice and make a good impression to strangers and friends. He had a people-pleasing personality, he knew, but he would rather be inconvenienced than to become an inconvenience if he could help it. Although that sentiment would probably sound ludicrous to his family, especially at that time with the whole Shane Bricks and STP corp. thing that was happening.

“Not from here, huh?” the driver smiled knowingly at him. “Tourist?” he pointed at the side of his head, which took Topher a second to understand that he was pertaining to his highlights.

“Yeah, tourist,” he replied, looking out the window beside him and wondering how much longer the car ride would take.

“Ah, how nice! The weather here is very good, right? Warm all the time, but there’s nothing like our beaches. One time, I drove for this couple from, where was it? India? Pakistan? I don’t recall, but they were supposed to stay here for just one week, but then they called me after a month to book a ride to the airport. They ended up staying for a month! They loved the Bay that much! Let me tell you about the places they went to. You have to check them out…” the man continued to speak, and somewhere down the line after he described the second beach, Topher lost the will to listen. He could feel his patience running thin, especially with the discomfort and stress he’d been under. The only thing he wanted then was some cold air, an ice-cold drink, and a nice, comfortable bed that had sheets smelling like they just came from the laundry.

Thankfully, the cab finally pulled up in front of the hotel after more or less a ten-minute ride. Even with the man still in the middle of his non-ending story, Topher cut him off by handing him a bill that cost twice his fare, said a quick, “Thank you for the ride, I’ll get off here,” and rushed out of the car to open the trunk.

“This is too much!” the driver called out after him, peeking his head out of the front passenger window and waving the bill around.

“Keep the change, it’s a tip,” Topher said as he hurriedly closed the trunk and struggled to lift his things out of the vehicle and out of the driveway.

“How generous! You need help there?” The man nodded at his suitcases, ready to get down from his car.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Topher quickly replied and waved goodbye, while wearing a forced smile. The man hesitantly nodded but finally went on his way.

Just as the cab drove away, Topher let out a huge sigh and let go of his luggage. He turned around and faced the hotel he would be staying at: The Bay Hotel.

It wasn’t impressive, but it wasn’t too shabby either. Its exterior was just as the pictures on the pamphlet showed: three floors, wide, walls painted white with some parts bricked, old-school windows and balconies. The driveway was made up of concrete bordered by circular lawn lights, surrounded by freshly trimmed grass and some plants. It was no Hotel Fariones as it looked more like a house that was extended sideways, but it would have to do.

Topher looked at his three heavy designer rolling luggage, then at the entrance of the hotel, waiting for someone to come out and help him with his things. He stood there for a minute or two under the melting heat, simmering in his sweat under his expensive coat, but there was no sign of anyone taking notice of him.

“Don’t these people know what customer service is?” he muttered under his breath as he finally decided to begrudgingly pick up his things. Suddenly, a pick-up truck arrived and stopped on the driveway right in front of him. A man with black hair alighted from the driver’s seat, wearing a beige polo shirt with the hotel logo and a nametag attached under it.

An employee, Topher thought, probably a valet.

The man walked to the back of the truck, and only then noticed Topher, who was walking towards him.

“May I help you?” the employee asked, looking more confused than happy that there was a customer.

“Yes, you may, James” Topher smiled in his relief, reading the man’s nametag. “If you could please take my bags up to my room. It’ll be under Topher Stevens, obviously.” He took off his sunglasses, as if expecting the employee to recognize him at an instant. Without waiting for his reaction, Topher smiled, took a bill from his wallet and placed it in the man’s hand with a, “Thanks a lot, man. I’m going to go check in now. There’ll be more where that came from if you take care of my babies nicely.” He winked, and even though James only responded with a raise of an eyebrow, he lightly chuckled and turned around.

Topher walked to the entrance of the lobby, not knowing that he had just handed his bags to the owner of the hotel.