Wasted

Ring! Ring!

I was awoken by the blaring sound of my neverending alarm. Which of course if I had the power I would've smash it. Fortunately for it, I couldn't get my hand to reach it on the other side of the bed. It was then I realised the other side of the bed was empty. I could've sworn we slept on this bed last night.

Nowadays, things were happening pretty fast for me. I rose up from the bed to unruffled my hair then slid down my hands over my face in confusion. When looked out the small holes my fingers made, I was even more confused. Right before me was a table. A vacant table which few hours ago was occupied with my Ermenegildo Zegna suit. I gently looked away to check the other items I had on, but I couldn't locate anything. My wristwatch, necklace, ring and most devastating of all, the key to my car!

When I raised the bedsheet over my legs it was unfortunate I had only my underwear on. She practically stole everything I wore last night. I covered my face and threw myself back on the bed. I thought it was a dream. Must have been the effect of alcohol on me. I'm starting to think things that actually happen … didn't.

Someone knocked trice on the door, but the person didn't immediately enter. Instead the person stayed silently and waited for an answer from within. I tilted my head lazily to the side to watched the door. Another knock resounded from the door again, finally drawing my attention.

'Who is there?'

'My apologies sir for my unrequested presence.' a voice sounded behind the door.

'Urgh … ' I covered my face again and unruffled my hair, knowing exactly the owner of the voice. 'Come in.' A man wearing a complete formal tuxedo outfit with white gloves walked into the room. He was old but yet surprisingly well-dressed. Lustring hair that indicated how well it was taken care of and a splendid perfume that went well with his demeanor.

'How'd you find me?' I asked.

The man surveyed the room calmy without moving his neck before answering, 'It was, should I say unfortunate that you turned on your phone.'

I couldn't answer to that. I honestly don't know how it got turned on. It's surprising the mystery lady didn't want my phone. Or maybe she forgot I had one.  When I didn't deliver any replies to the man, he went ahead, 'It's a shame. Madam Muave was present at the burial.'

'What'd she say?' I asked unexpressionately.

'Beat me to my own thoughts.' He jerked an eyebrow up and continued, 'Quite a lady.' I finally rose from bed as he finished his statement. He was surprised to see me half naked so he asked, 'Let me take your cloths for you sir?'

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. I could only smile wryly and answer, 'I don't have one.' He narrowed his brows and tilted his head at my reply.

'I must say, this has the most effect on you sir.' he paused in-between his speech, 'And I am, truly indeed sorry. She was ... more than family to me.' I couldn't answer to that; It made me almost want to shed tears. I was glad I faced my back to him, it would have spoilt my image to see me kicking back my tears. I kept my cool and carried on, clearing my throat and trying to sound impassive as possible, 'I'm gonna need new cloth.'

'Classic or the usuals?'

'Usuals.' I answered and he ended our discussion then left through the door. After a while he came back in with a Dormeuil Vanquish II, black dorsilk suit. He asked as he placed the suit nylon on the bed, 'If i may ask what happened to the kiton–k sir?'

Walking back to the bed with my hands hiding my face, I picked up the suit and answered weakly, 'I think someone took it.' The man shrugged and exposed no signs of concern. A little while after I wore the suit, he inspected me head-to-toe only to ask, 'Are you ready, sir?'

Emotionally I asked with my eyes lifeless as a puppet's, staring deeply into his aura, like I could see the sympathy hiding his pride. 'Do I look ready?' He was cautious not to answer unconventionally after cracking up a warm smile like a father witnessing the first sight of his child, 'You were made for this. I can't see you any better now.'

A well played response. Ever since I was a kid, despite my mother having my back, this man was my building block. He thought me a lot and showed me the mechanism of life. The good and the wrong. To achieve power or to become weak. Most of his teachings got me through numerous problems and if there was anyone I trusted the most it would be this man, Mr Jonathan Dubois.

'I have privately conversed with Mrs Guinevere and she willing to cooperate with us.' Mr Dubois sounded formally. 'But there's just one more thing, sir.' Just as I was about leaving the room he asked. Typical him. Having a really huge sense of belonging. One minute his all supportive and the next, his poke nosing in your business.

I raised my chin inquisitively.

'You don't look your typical self for a start.'

'The're all gone too.' I answer without a trace if humour in my smile. Mr Dubois holds my smile silently, as he continues, 'The necklace?'

'Yes.'

'The ring?'

'Yes.'

'I'm guessing we'll stop at Keeton's AutoMobiles for a test drive?'

'Possibly.' I answer nonchalantly at his gaze.

'That's around $24million, sir.' he says. His interest piqued but he maintains his formality.

I sauntered close to a mirror with corrugated edges hanging on the wall. 'Since when do you care?' I asked, buttoning up my inner vest and later smoothening my permed hair.

'Since this week.' he responds melancholily and causes my recent mood to dissipate. I know he was just looking out for me. I know he thinks it would be hard for me. This is the problem I have to deal with. But hey, no. I'm fine. I'm perfect. But unbeknownst to all, there's a demon which would be let loose in matter of hours. This demon … is my love for power.

AFTER, we both cruise inside a new crimson Pagani Zonda Cinque Roadster. He was bent on making me go with all the unnecessary entourage he had with him but I rejected his offer. I'm a lone wolf, declining his offer made it seem I had returned back to my original state of mind. Which for some reason, he felt good about.

'Where are we heading?' I ask with one part of my head askew on the side window.

'To Mr Benson's.' Funny, I caught a trace of joy in his response. But it was extinguished before I could even think of identifying it. 'To reposses some very secret family documents.' he added once he saw my irresponsive gaze.

'What very secret family documents? And how isn't it in our possession?' I said, extending my eyeballs to catch his face. But Mr Dubois keeps silent. And inside that silence of his, a smile crawled out then disappeared like light. Noticing we both weren't going to utter a word, 'Some things are better left untouched.' he broke the serenity.

'If John knows something I dont, he'll spit it before me.' I sounded slightly irritated.

'Of course he would, sir.' Mr Dubois commented. And I caught the slight joy twinkling in his speech again. Something's is definitely wrong. 'What exactly are you happy 'bout.'

'Feels like there's a lot more adventure to venture with you, sir.' Now that latent confidence finally emerges as he spoke. I wasn't exactly sure of what he meant. But noticing that change of mood in him, I could only chuckle.

SOON after we arrive at a twenty-storey skyscraper. We both hopped out the porch. Mr Dubois handed the key over to the car keepers and we stroll in through the translucent door in front which had the bold lettering of B&Co. NETWORKING. Oblivious to us, after we bounced through the door my cufflinks decided to go astray at that moment. And Mr Dubois enjoyed my company at my back. To some we majestically came in like the actual men-in-black.

Behind a well furnished marble counter, a blonde lady with an undue size for an eye glass in a white suit shirt sat. As we came in close she gave us the warmest smile she could muster.

'We have an appointment with Benson.' Mr Dubois was first to speak. His tone, not quit cheerful.

'One moment sir.' Quite the opposite of Mr Dubois. She was cheerful. 'Yes of course, Mr Benson's office is straight th–'

'I know my way around.' Cutting her speech off, Mr Dubois leads the way into the opposite direction. I followed behind slowly, catching the quickest flash of discontent in lady's smile.

'But sir you have to sign!' she silently screams in an amusing way. I'm guessing if it were someone else she'd have hit the emergency red button and call for security. But seeing it was the Mazzanti family. One open-minded mistake could cost her this work. Slowly we approach the entrance to an elevator where we were welcome by two impressively dressed security guards. They hit the buttons for us and walk right in. Heading for the very first floor of the building. When we arrived our elevator stopped and dings open for us to go through. We we're met with a hallway painted in sweet light burgundy. Approximately six metres from each modern day door in the hallway were abstract drawings.

When we reached our destination which was the last brunette door on the right we barged in like actual men-in-black.

'–the fuck?!

The room was rather spacious and amazingly decorated. Beside where we stood was a black leather chair and tiles with almost the colour of gold. To our front stood two State-of-the-art visitors chairs and another behind a pure white polished desk which currently was occupied.

The so-called Mr Benson was spending his afternoon brake with a naked woman squatted right before his manhood. The moment we entered, the two were shocked to death. Mr Benson unstableness caused him his whiskey after it spilled on his morning suit. Infuriatedly, he decided to throw this wrath on the godforsaken bastard that turned his $10,000 door to a ball.

Ha! Very funny!

Hurriedly, he pushed the lady aside, stood up and zipped his pants. But as he saw us, the fiery tyrant of before completely varnished.

'Oh! It–It's you. Please do come in!' he stuttered and gestured his hands towards the chairs.

Mr Dubois stared at this man with plain disgust on his face. While I, I was enthralled with the well carved and naked immaculate body lying on the floor. Whomever she was, she was both beautiful internally and externally. Ravishing to the eyes and I saw the god-tempting features that made her a woman. How fortunate.