His Name Was Tim

"Three dollars."

The bearded gruff man glares at me, he'd better not have customer service on his resume, cause he looks like he eats babies.

"Three?! You didn't even check it! What if it has diamonds or something infused in it?"

"It don't."

"Can you check again!?"

"Listen kid, I've been in the business longer than you parents have been fucking. I know a piece of shit from a piece of shit."

Angrily, I swipe the trinket off the table and storm out. "You'll be sorry when Rick Harrison says it's worth a trillion dollars."

The man grunts in response as he sits back in the chair.

****

The street lamps weakly flicker through the foggy road as I pull out the pamphlet Gramps gave me.

The images show a fancy-looking room filled with expensive furniture and decor. This seems promising, but I know my grandpa, he always told fisherman stories, his perspective strayed away from the reality of the truth.

Eventually, I arrive at the base of the towering skyscraper; at least the building wasn't a lie, it seems safe enough, and it's in a pleasant neighborhood.

Making my way into the extravagant lobby, the receptionist waves me over.

"Welcome to the Garden of Eden, may I ask what you have your reservation under?"

Still trying to take in the flamboyant lobby, I stutter, "Uh... I think he put it under Graves."

She gasps, looking up at me. "Oh, your Bucker's grandchild. Your grandpa was a great man..."

"His name wasn't Bucker, it was Tim."

She winks at me. "...a great, great man."

"Uh...okay." I don't even want to know what she meant by that.

With a smile, she hands me the ring of keys.

"Uh... why did you give me all of these keys? I don't need that many copies for one room."

She giggles. "Did he not tell you? He owned the entire 78th floor."

My eyes widen "The... entire floor?"

"That's right. Unfortunately, due to them being privately owned in your family's name, we cannot aid in finding tenants; you will have to do that on your own."

Still a little shocked, I weakly nod. "Right...thank you."

I knew my grandfather was the charismatic type, but how did he manage to get a deal like this?

They say comparison is the thief of joy, but currently comparing it to my previous home is only full of pros, including the fast and secure elevator that doesn't make me brace to jump in a futile attempt to save my life.

She told me room 7821 was the nicest... and she wasn't kidding.

The room is a penthouse, it overlooks the city, with a glass pool, a private gym, and a loft. It looks like the type of thing fake influencers would flex.

My last apartment was a cramped war zone between the rats and the cockroaches, so the bar wasn't very high, but this has blown the bar to the stratosphere.

I scoff. "I wonder how Stephanie would react if I told her."

Not that I care.

I don't.

But I do feel guilty for not enjoying it more before it goes to my parents.

The guilt overwhelms me, and I decide to at least try and enjoy the apartment.

So I dip my hand in the pool, lift a singular weight in the gym room, and awkwardly sit on the couch, not doing anything until the guilt recedes.

"Alright, gramps, can't say I didn't try." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the octahedron thing. "Now, what the hell is this thing?"

Holding the trinket up to the dim lamp, it refracts the light.

It kinda looks edible.

Is it hard candy?

He really did just give me whatever was in his pocket when he died.

As though a child chewing on a toy, I hold it between my teeth, I attempt to bite down, but its like hard plastic.

It slips between my teeth, causing me to start choking on it.

In an act of panic, I gulp down.

My eyes widen as I hold my throat and my eyes water.

That was like eating a chip diagonally.

Finally catching my breath, I wipe my watering eyes.

Sorry, Gramps, your final gift is going to be fertilizer in 24 hours.

Falling to my knees, I suddenly feel all of my muscles strain; it's like my body feels heavy, yet I might float away.

The moment passes as I stand back up.

What the hell was that?!

Was it that trinket thing?

Taking a deep breath, I collect my thoughts.

Today doesn't seem to be my day.