Just Trash The Message

As they pulled into the driveway of August's decent home, the familiar sight of the plain-in-white looking house brought a sense of calm over him.

This was exactly his son's kind of environment and he had also learnt from Reed to love it as well.

"Alright," Celine said as she put the car in park. "You go do your thing. I'll get baby to bed."

August nodded, carefully disentangling himself from his son's grasp. "Thanks. I won't be long."

"Take your time. You deserve that hot tub more than anyone I know."

August stepped out of the car and watched as she carried Reed inside. His friend, Celine, was hot! With her figure, face and seductive smile she could get any man and she always made sure to stick to that—getting men on her bed.

Touche! He hadn't ever thought of himself on her bed before.

With a final glance at the retreating figures of Celine and son, August made his way into the house.

August stepped into his room which was actually separate from the main house but through the same door. It was his sanctuary of stark, minimalist design which no one aside his son wasn't invited to enter, just yet.

The space was almost entirely white—white walls, white furniture, and even a sleek, modern gym set tucked into one corner, also white.

Despite the simplicity, everything was meticulously arranged like a neat freak's home, each piece of furniture precisely placed.

The apartment itself was in a quiet neighborhood. Barely anyone stayed around. It wasn't anything grand, just a simple place where he could raise his son in peace.

Celine, his friend, had found the place for him just two weeks ago. She'd insisted on it when she heard he was coming back to the country.

The thought of him and his son being without a home and staying in a hotel or something drove her into a protective frenzy.

Firstly, Reed couldn't just eat anything from anywhere and he needed a plain environment given his condition. Secondly, Celine felt it was better August stayed in a quiet, almost isolated area given his identity as intersex.

Celine was always like that, a "mama hen,".

"Hmmm," With a sigh, August began to undress, letting his clothes drop to the floor till he was stark naked. Then he slipped into a soft, white bathrobe.

He was just about to head to the bathroom when his phone buzzed on the bedside table.

He ignored it at first, but then it buzzed again.

August frowned.

He hated leaving messages or emails unattended. It felt like an itch needed to be dealt with immediately.

Reluctantly, he walked over to the bedside and picked up his phone to glance at the screen.

The notifications showed two messages. The first was a formal invitation. The second was a message.

August leaned back against the bed's headboard. The message was from a certain Morgana Lucius, a rich model who seemed determined to catch his attention anyhow.

She was more than just a casual fan; she was a die-hard fan.

Morgana wanted to feature in a photo with him.

August chuckled as he ignored the message.

Then, the second notification was an invitation. Well, a write up and then there was also a wedding invitation—a digital one—attached to it.

The sender, MN.G, was a name he didn't immediately recognize. The write up was a request for August to attend and take pictures with the bride for a tempting one million dollars.

"Whoever sent this isn't playing around," August muttered to himself, scrolling down the invitation.

It wasn't just a polite request; it was an offer no sane person would reject. The amount was staggering, clearly meant to ensure his attendance. The sender was serious and wealthy for sure.

The name….

"MN. (dot) G, hmm," He muttered the name aloud, trying to place it. "It's definitely an abbreviation but why does it sound so… so old and familiar and childish?"

But what really sealed it was the signature at the bottom of the invitation: 'Glory Boyz!'

August's eyes widened as he recognized the name.

The Glory Boyz were no small-time operation; they were a group with a reputation, one that could open doors or slam them shut, depending on which side you found yourself on.

And they were his old time past!

'Those twins!'

The fact that Glory Boyz were involved in this wedding—and that they wanted him there—meant two things. This was no ordinary event and this MN.G was a famous man.

"Wait, hold up," he paused in his steps. Looking back, he picked up the phone again and turned it on. "Glory Boyz, MN. G…"

August, turned back and pulled out the third locker on the small white table cupboard open. He took out a picture.

It was a picture of his younger and tinier 22 years old self. That was like 6 years ago. Not just him, a taller and a bit bigger frame was beside him, hanging a hand over his own lean frame.

August flipped the picture to the plain back but in this case, it wasn't blank.

It had one tiny scribbling on it that definitely wasn't his hand writing that read: 'MN. G' and then beside was his own bold and ugly writing that read: 'Younger Handsome Glory Of The Glory Boyz.'

"Mason Glory?"

****

A team of designers and stylists buzzed around August, each with a role.

Fabrics whispered as hangers were pulled along rails luxuriously. Sadly, none of those luxurious adornments meant to cover his nakedness was his. They were all brought in by his client.

Celine stood nearby, her delicate hand resting on her chin, considering what would suit what.

She had first soughted out an outfit—a Chanel three-piece suit in deep emerald that definitely contrasted the room's starkness but would have complemented the elegance August Farley was all about.

Sadly, he rejected it! Now, she just watched as the stylists fussed over every detail.

"How did Reed do last night?" she asked, her tone soft, though her eyes never leaving the outfits.

"Better," August replied, "You know how he is. It takes time."

Celine nodded, a knowing look crossing her features. Reed was always a delicate subject, his deep autism making every interaction, every word, both precious and fragile.

She had put him to bed the night before, the way she always did when August had to be out late.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" she asked, her voice now tinged with concern. "It's a lot for you right now, isn't it? Plus, you know… the twins…"

August's gaze hardened for a moment, his hands moving to adjust the cufflinks on the white shirt he'd chosen. They were subtle, yet elegant, with tiny inlaid diamonds catching the light with every movement.

"A million dollars, Celine. A million dollars to take a picture with Mason Glory's bride tonight, the engagement and next up, the wedding," he said, his tone betraying a hint of the frustration and deep hurt he carefully concealed. "I can't turn that down. Not with the way we are living. Not with the dying need of Little Candy entering elementary school soon."

Celine sighed.

One stylist held up a black tie adorned with deep sapphire, while another presented a pair of sleek leather gloves, both from Hermes.

The decision lay with August on what to choose, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought about Reed, his son, who he had locked up in his room (which Reed was well comfortable and secured with) and he also thought about Reed's father, 'Sean.'

As they wrapped the black tie around his neck, August turned to Celine. "This money isn't just for me," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the room's hushed atmosphere. "It's to hide Reed as well. We need this."

Celine didn't respond immediately, her eyes softening as she looked at him. She felt really sad for August. She knew what he wasn't saying.

"Still, don't let them push you too hard. You're doing this for Reed, but he needs you in one piece too. Plus, the twins aren't worth it."

It was Mason's engagement, one of the Glory Boyz and all these luxurious clothes were all sent by him to 'August Farley'. And that's what all the sourness and sadness was all about.

The final touches were added—a spritz of cologne.

August looked every bit the image of perfection they had crafted, yet he felt none of it. To him, the reflection in the mirror was just another mask, another role to play.

"I'll be fine," he said finally to himself. "I have to be."

"Hey," Celine called out to him. "Your ipad. I think you have a message."

August, who had already walked up to the door, turned back glancing between Celine and the iPad on the dress table. "It's just one. I'll get to it when I'm back."

He turned to leave and instantly another dinged followed.

"Oops! I guess it's two now," Celine mocked.

"Ugh!" August groaned.

Stockpiled notifications really were his allergy, tch! "What does it say?" He asked.

"Err.." Celine opened the iPad, checking the notifications out. "Oh, the first is just a reminder to not be late for the engagement party. Hehe," she laughed nervously.

August narrowed his eyes, feeling really bitter. 'Is he so much in a rush to make his woman happy?'

He rolled his eyes. "And the next?"

Celine read on, "The second one, it says… errr? Some King Von Black…."

"Just trash the message!" vexed August yelled, then went out, banging the door behind him.

Celine: "...."