-I’m out of town not interested in his bs
Blocked too.Fuck you.A tiny warmth had nestled in his chest though.Desperate. And you should be, low-life fuck. Rot.
A tiny grief there, its claws planted in his heart filled to the brim with that sudden hate. He worked though, memorizing the plans, the rules, the protocols, and read what he could on the family. A few articles on Spencer’s scandalous outings… Paparazzi photos of that wild eyed youngster, dead drunk, lashing at the cameras, surrounded by his friends, tugging each other in front of a club.Fuck.
His caller rang then so he answered it.
A soft voice. “Come to my room.” Click.
Duncan blinked at the receiver but he knew that voice, so he got up and pulled his suit jacket on.
Walking to the mansion, he swiped his card and stepped in, going straight up to Spencer’s room. Knocking, that faint acrid smell of smoke already seeping from under the threshold.
“Come in…”
Duncan pushed the door in, reeling at that thick smoke pervading the room. Jesus…Breathing shallow, he went straight to the window and opened it wide.
Spencer was sprawled on the sofa, in the same pyjamas and robe, but he was barefoot, smoking a joint, blowing the smoke to the ceiling.
He grinned at Duncan. “Can’t stand good old weed?”
“You could get high just by breathing in here.”
Spencer chuckled. “Oooh, will you get high, mister Uptight?”
Duncan stood next to the window, crossing his arms. “Unlikely.”
“I never expected any other reply from you, mister Righteous… I’m still looking for your nickname…” His dark eyes roamed him, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed so at ease, Duncan shifted a bit under his gaze.
He blew the smoke out, thick, rolling it off his tongue as he put the joint out in a large crystal ashtray. Taking a large glass of whiskey, he sipped at it, his eyes not leaving Duncan. “We’re going out… soon… to a party. What’s the time?”
Duncan looked at his watch. “Nearly 7 p.m.”
“9 then, I guess…”
“Dinner first?” Worried that the young fuck would drink on an empty stomach.
A mellow smile crept on Spencer’s mouth. “You’re not my mum.”
“No. But I have to make sure you’re not useless by the end of the night. Which means no drinking on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll throw up then…”
“Better than getting an ulcer and getting drunk twice as fast.”
Spencer almost objected, poking his tongue out between his teeth, but his mind was drenched in that mellow peace weed brought, time bought, maybe. “Alright… Mum… bring some food up.”
“Me?”
“Who else? You want me to eat? You serve it.” He laughed, soft, and gazed at the ceiling, floating a bit.
Duncan just left and went straight to the kitchen. He introduced himself, but the cook just prepared a platter for him, and covered the dishes.
She handed it to him, sad. “It will go to waste. Come, eat first. You won’t have time.”
“I’ll eat later.”
He grabbed the platter and brought it upstairs, fuming a bit that he was playing the server, but he knocked and waited to be called in.
