Tags
Title: The Party
Word Count: 4347
Summary:Every year Peter and his friends go away for a week to his friend Clint’s manor and throw the grandest of parties. This year there are a couple newcomers who find their party habits rather odd to say the least.
Peter sat in the back of the limousine sipping on a glass of white wine and staring out of the tinted windows at the manor on the hill. He had to admire the cliché gothic feel to it all, a blackened Victorian manor replete with shuttered windows and skeletal trees around it. The thunderstorm that crackled in the air just made the whole picture completely like something he would read in an Edgar Allen Poe story. He grinned to himself thinking of how he would be the envy of all of his country club fellows when he told them he was able to see such a sight with his own eyes.
His driver pulled him up to the large double doors at the front gate and opened the door for him. Peter strode out, pushing up a large black umbrella so his designer brown suit wouldn’t get wet. He made his way to the door and sounded the knocker that was held in a dragon’s mouth. A large hollow sound echoed throughout the door slowly faded so that only the sound of the wind kept Peter company. A gust blew rain into his legs, soaking the bottom of his pant legs and he grimaced in displeasure as wet cloth rubbed against his skin. The silence stretched on and he raised a hand to the knocker again only to have the door swing open before he could sound it again.
Before him stood a man in his thirties with short black hair and prominent cheekbones dressed in a long black trench coat over his black suit, despite the fact that he was inside. His brown eyes glittered as he beheld Peter, drinking him in so intently that Peter could feel the gaze on his flesh burning into him. “Hey, sorry about that.” He started jovially while motioning for Peter to come inside. “This house is so large that I don’t think any of the others heard you.”
New blood, he had to be as Peter didn’t recognize him. He sighed and looked down his nose at the new man, “You are new aren’t you?”
“How did you guess?”
“This is a very selective club. I know all the regulars.” Peter waited for the man to introduce himself or take Peter’s coat and when he didn’t a mental note was made against him. Peter did his best to ignore the way that the man stared at him as he took off his coat and hung it on a rack near the door. “Who are you? It is very rude to not introduce yourself to people.”
The man’s voice came out sibilantly, “How very rude of me. I am Drake Young. And you?”
“I am Peter Denver.” he answered brittly.
The man’s eyes widened a little with interest, “The Peter Denver? The legendary reporter that brought to light the presidential embezzlement scandal?”
He gave a small grin, feeling gratified that his name had been recognized, “The very same.” He looked at the man, “It is also civil to take off your coat while you are indoors.” He extended his arm expectantly.
Drake hesitated for a moment before obliging and placing his coat in Peter’s waiting hand. With long strides Peter began to make his way into the house, his footstep echoing off the walls as he walked around the grand stair case in the middle and off to the left. He heard Drake’s footsteps sounding behind his in quicker steps. “Where are you going?” he asked, coming up along Peter’s right side.
“I am heading to the cocktail lounge where everybody is already gathered. I was thirty minutes late because of the rain so they have moved on without us.”
Drake nodded and looked forward. “I’ll just follow you then.”
“If you must.” Peter paused beside a wooden door carved with ornate roses. He took off his wire rimmed spectacles and polished the glass with a handkerchief from his pocket. Drake waited by his side like a loyal dog, taking out a pocket watch and checking the time. Peter turned the knob on the carved door and both of them walked into to the room.
Keeping with the gothic motif of the gathering the entire place was lit with long white tapers along the walls. A large teak table with a black silk runner up the center took up the central place in the room with seven chairs along the edges. A bar was along the right side with a door to the kitchen next to it. A bartender with a long black beard laughed and poured out drinks merrily. Peter made a beeline to the bar and asked for a nice chardonnay from the bartender.
A woman with perfectly coifed blonde curls leaned over to him as he received his glass, “Nice of you to show up, Peter.”
He allowed himself to grin, “Susan, you know that I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It is worth it to show up if only to see your face once per year.”
When she laughed her voice had the most marvelous musical quality to it, “You know you could see my face more than once per year if you would actually call me rather than waiting for our yearly party to see me.”
Peter gave a chuckle, “Time escapes me. The stories won’t write themselves after all and the presses wait for no man.”
A new voice boomed, “Bah! Peter wouldn’t know how to relax even if he did come to visit. He would be too busy planning his next presidential takedown.” Peter turned to see a man with short brown beard that was very well trimmed who watched him with joyful green eyes.
Peter grinned, “You’re one to talk Rupert. I am surprised you even make it out to these boonies once per year, I would think the city would collapse without you there to maintain its affairs.”
Rupert grinned and ordered another beer from the bartender, “I always value the excuse to use my vacation time, not like I have a lot of opportunity to use it. I would kill to have this party in a decent city one day though. I could even volunteer my place.”
“Shush you,” Susan chided, “Having it here is a decade long tradition. I wouldn’t want to offend our dear host Clint by breaking his streak.”
Rupert let out a long, low whistle, “Has it really been a decade of us all being friends?”
Susan nodded, “As of this year, indeed it is.”
“Here’s to being friends.” Rupert said, raising his glass and drinking after they all followed suit. Gradually he made his way to filter through the rest of the party.
Peter looked over to see the newcomer Drake talking to a woman with long, straight red hair who was wearing a scandalously low cut dress. Edith never did have any taste when it came to these affairs, always dressing just a tad too scantily clad for the class of the company they kept. She always was a tasteless woman and slow to pick up on social cues. A small pit of anger rose in Peter’s stomach upon seeing her presence and the way that she laughed at Drake’s comments.
“You still miss her?” Susan asked, her voice invading his thoughts.
He balked, “Hardly. I have no need of a strumpet in my life.”
She cast him a dirty look, “Come now, there’s no need for such venom. Things may not have worked out between you two, but that doesn’t make her a bad person.”
He gestured at her with a wine glass, “Look at the way she hangs over a perfect stranger and tell me that she is not a strumpet.”
Susan watched Edith laugh and touch Drake’s arm with a bemused look. “Just looks like she is having good fun to me. It has been three years since the divorce was finalized, I am glad to see her moving on.” She moved her gaze to Peter, looking at him with a mournful look on her face, “I only wish that you would do the same.”
He regarded her with the same sad look, “Sometimes I think I am simply too old to move on, Susan. You get so stuck in a rut that you forget what it was like before the rut existed.” He finished his glass of wine of procured another. “Begging your pardon, I must say hello to our fair host before the festivities get started.”
He made his way through the room, cursing Susan, Edith, and Drake for all spoiling what was a perfectly good mood. He was so distracted with his venomous thoughts that he didn’t notice a woman with blonde hair that was tied behind her head into a bun and bright red lipstick coming towards him ’til he nearly ran into her. A bit of red wine spilled from her glass onto his jacket and she seemed quite embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Peter, I’ve made a right mess of things. I didn’t expect you to keep moving.”
He moved her fussing hands away, doing his best to dab at the stain with his handkerchief. For anybody else he would have dug in about how much the coat cost, the designer, and how hard it was to find a decent coat that would fit his wide shoulders, but because of the woman he forced a smile and said, “It’s quite alright, Lucy. I know a good cleaner who can get the stain out.” He shrugged his way out of the jacket and hung it over a dining chair rather than appear sloven in a stained jacket.
“I will pay for your cleaner. I feel like I owe you since I ruined it.” She said, still looking apologetic.
“If you must, I will not protest.” Peter answered, “How is London, darling?”
She straightened up and a smile crossed her face, “Oh the city never sleeps and neither do the injuries flowing into the hospital.”
“Same there as it is here?”
She laughed, “Well if there are people in a place then they are guaranteed to get themselves into trouble and get hurt because of it.”
“Perhaps one day you’ll join us on this side of the pond?”
She shook her head, “Peter, you never will quit with that, will you?”
He gave a grin, “What can I say? I like my little sister to be near to me. I miss her when she goes halfway across the world, gallivanting with doctors and wounded souls.”
“All that time with the politicians has made you quite the poet,” she continued, her voice taking on a more sad tone, “But you know I cannot leave. There’s too many people who need me there and-” She trailed off into nothingness.
Her older brother took the bait, “What? Out with it then!”
“I may have found a man who will finally take me.”
Peter’s expression suddenly grew guarded, “Who is he? How did you meet him?”
She seemed unphased by his questions, “His name is David and he is doctor who works with me, a surgeon in fact. He is doing groundbreaking work on lungs right now and couldn’t join me.”
“You aren’t thinking of marrying him, are you?”
She looked wistful, “Perhaps one day.”
“Not before I have had the chance to properly meet him though.”
She laughed, “Of course not. I would never want to marry someone my brother would not approve of.” She waved at someone behind Peter’s back; his head whipping around to see Edith motioning Lucy over. Lucy took her leave and Peter grimaced before resuming his travel across the room.
This whole affair was looking worse and worse by the minute. While some part of Peter could appreciate how even his own sour mood was keeping with the gothic tone of the environment he was in the appreciation was muted by his own displeasure. It was hard to appreciate the artistry of the occasion when all the women around him were driving him up a wall. Surely Clint would be better company.
When he found Clint he was pleased to see that he was wearing a finely cut suit with a purple flower to accent it. He was talking to a man in his thirties dressed in a grey suit that was accented with a pink tie. Peter walked into their conversation, “Clint! It has been too long.”
Clint extended a hand and shook it heartily. “Peter! Good to see you! Have you met my friend Troy?”
The man next to him extended a hand that was laden with rings to shake Peter’s hand, “Pleased to meet you. Clint speaks very highly of all the people here, I am glad to finally be able to place names to faces.”
Peter nodded, “Try not to be too disappointed if the reality does not measure up to the stories. The truth is rarely as pretty as the stories make it out to be.”
Troy laughed, an annoying wheeze, “I can tell you are a writer. You got good material.”
Peter gave a frigid look, “You do know that I am not that type of writer, correct?” It was hard to believe that there were people who hadn’t read his news article, but he supposed there were still some living under a rock.
The conversation was interrupted by the sounding on a bell from the kitchen, sending the bartender into the back. On cue all of them made their way to a chair. Lucy took a seat next to Peter and Rupert took his other side. Across from him sat Susan, Drake and Edith while Clint took a seat at the head. Troy stood around looking quite at a loss of what to do. “Check the kitchen. There should be an extra chair in there. The maid must not have brought them all out.” Clint said, pointing towards the door on the far wall. Troy went through it to go on his search.
“Have you hired more than one servant yet?” Edith asked with a grin, “Or are you still making poor Opal do all of the work around here?”
“Opal is still doing a perfectly good job; I see no reason to hire more if she is still doing an adequate job.”
“Besides, Clint would be awfully lonely without all the spiders around here.” Susan joined in, “It’s an awfully big house to live in by yourself after all.”
The bartender shuffled out of the kitchen with bowls of soup on a silver tray. Peter smelled squash and voiced his approval for such a wise choice, though it was hard to admire the color and the presentation of the meal by candlelight. Once everyone was served everyone started eating the soup with the exception of Drake.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Troy?” He queried, his utensils still untouched.
Clint laughed, “He’s probably found the company in the kitchen more enjoyable than the company out here, especially if he has met Opal. They are probably getting nicely introduced right now.”
“Do you want me to go check?” Drake asked, his eyes searching the face of everybody sitting at the table and finding no one’s gaze to take shelter in.
Edith laughed, “I would not want to walk upon them together. He’ll come back when he’s good and done.”
“Knowing him, probably after the meal is finished.” Clint added in still giving a laugh that everyone around the table mimicked. Peter followed in suit even though he had just met Troy but two minutes before the meal began, it was an involuntary thing to follow his friends.
“The soup is fantastic, Clint.” Peter said as Drake slowly picked up his spoon to eat.
Clint nodded and looked pleased, as if he had cooked the meal himself, “The cook I’ve hired is really top notch. I brought him over from the Ukraine in February and he has served me loyally ever since. He even agreed to make a dish from his homeland today, spiced apple pig roast.”
Rupert clutched his chest in mock surprise, “You mean we get to feast upon something that is actually labeled as spiced?! I am shocked and appalled; I didn’t think your palette could take any sort of seasoning.”
Clint’s laughed came out forced, “Yes, well not all of us have the iron stomach like you do.”
Rupert shook his stomach jovially, “It has served me well over the years. You don’t get to have a stomach this big and not have a taste for all foods.”
Peter chuckled like he was supposed to do upon the joke being made, but the tepid response made it clear that no one truly found it amusing. After some time the bartender came out and swept away their bowls. He came out from the kitchen again with a delicious smelling meat served with rosemary roasted potatoes. Peter’s mouth watered in anticipation of the meal that was to come, the meats that Clint’s chef prepared were legendary. No matter who he hired a prerequisite of working in Clint’s kitchen was a natural talent for cooking meat.
As soon as the last plate hit the table everyone was eagerly upon their meals, famished by the small talk and the booze flowing through their systems. The meat was very tender and the apples blended in with the roast perfectly. All was silent save for the clink of forks and knives upon plates as everyone became consumed by their food.
“So how did you get invited to this dinner, Drake?” Rupert asked once the initial frenzy had died down.
“I work with Edith in the university doing research on ancient Grecian religions.”
“He has translated some of the most beautiful poetry you have ever heard from the original texts, particularly with the cults of Dionysus.” Edith said, her voice full of affection, “He has a knack for getting what the authors were saying without being too literal about the translation.”
“So you are a student then?” Peter asked pointedly.
He nodded, “Graduate student, but student none-the-less.”
Peter gave a small satisfied smile as he saw Edith shift a little uneasily in her seat. “Well I’m sure your research will invaluable to the future of the world.”
“Not all of us can afford to spend all of our time hob knobbing with the men in power ‘til it turns out well for us.” Edith quipped with a sting in her voice.
Lucy butted in, making comforting hand gestures towards Drake, “Don’t pay too much attention to Peter. He may be a bitter old man, but he’s our bitter old man.”
“Shush, he’s not that old,” Susan added in with softer tones.
“With age comes wisdom,” Peter added in with a pointed look at Edith,”Well, usually.”
Drake looked back and forth between the two of them as the dinner lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The plates were taken away and replaced with a rich chocolate cake garnished with strawberries and gold shavings. Susan broke the silence first, “Come now. This feels more like a funeral than a party.”
“Well it’s kind of hard to keep things pleasant when Peter and Edith are creating a warzone.” Rupert noted.
Peter felt a little shame at his previous remarks now that the initial anger of his statement had faded. He bowed his head, “I am sorry. I was out of line with my statements. There has been a lot of pressure on me from the press as of late. I am used to being on the other side of the camera and all this attention is disconcerting.”
Suddenly Lucy sat bolt upright and looked directly at Peter, “You weren’t followed here by them were you?”
The mood around the table became tense as everyone else glanced around the room as if cameras would jump out of the walls, close by another thunder crack sounded. “I am fairly sure. I made sure my driver take evasive maneuvers to lose them.”
“So there’s no chance anybody took pictures of you here then.” Lucy said, sounding like she was trying persuade herself as much as she was trying to persuade the others, “Or at least only a small chance if they did follow you here. The rain would dissuade them from standing outside and trying to take pictures.”
Even with that reassurance Peter got up and closed the thick, black curtains on the windows. The crowd visibly relaxed once all of them had been closed. Susan forced a laugh and all the others followed in suit. Drake was the only one that seemed put off, his unnaturally eager eyes now staring at them incredulously.
“What the devil is going on here?” he asked, getting up from his seat.
“You need to calm down,” Edith began, putting a hand on his arm.
He struggled to break free from her, but her grip was stronger than it appeared to be and her slender arms held him in place. Panic entered into his eyes and Peter grabbed him by the shoulders, hissing into his ears, “Hold still, you blighted fool!” Straightening himself up he announced to the room, “Let me talk to him.”
Edith’s grip loosened and Peter guided Drake out into the hall. As soon as they were clear of the room Peter let him go, the other man backing away quickly and turning upon Peter in wrath. “Explain to me what is going on! Now!”
Peter laughed, taking a pipe out of his pocket and stuffing it with tobacco, “I hardly think you are in a position to be making demands of anyone. Perhaps if you ask me nicely I will answer some of your questions.”
Drake took an unsteady breath and forced civility into his voice, “Tell me what is going on. Why is everyone so worried?”
Peter lit a match and set the tobacco alight. He took a puff from the pipe, letting the sound of the rain fill the hall. “It’s nothing terribly horrible, not yet as of yet at least. Everyone is just worried as these parties can get a bit crazy. All of us have respectable jobs and it wouldn’t do to have the public have pictures of us in various states of impropriety.”
The younger man looked like he was thinking of running, his eyes darting back and forth. “What do you mean they haven’t gotten terribly horrible yet?“
“I mean exactly what I say. In the week we will all spend here I’m sure we will push the limits of your civility, but for now we are keeping things classy -that is if you would quit ruining the occasion with your panic.”
“You seemed to be doing a good job of that yourself.”
Peter let out a puff of smoke, “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn on me. The others were more than willing to feed you to the wolves for your behavior.” He watched the way Drake’s eyes darted about, “I wouldn’t try running by the way. Clint has been at this longer than you have been alive and he knows this place much better than anyone else. You won’t outrun him.”
“But I wasn’t-“
“Don’t lie to me; I will know when you are lying.”
The younger man tried to process everything his black hair now becoming more messed as he ran his hands through his head. “I won’t tell anyone if I saw anything here. I don’t even know if I did. I am just getting a bad feeling about everything here.”
Peter laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, dear boy. We asked you to sit at our dinner table; you have to see it through to the end now.”
Realization crossed the pale, finely boned face before him. Drake’s shoulder’s sagged in resignation as he quietly stated, “Troy isn’t coming back is he? There was no seat for him.”
Peter shook his head, “Afraid not. There’s always one there isn’t room for at the table.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“Ask yourself first, do you want to know the answer to that question?”
“Did I-” he started but bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed it back down and continued his speech, “Did I just eat him?”
Peter spoke like someone had just asked him what the weather would be like, “I don’t know.”
Drake’s eyes went wide and he started screaming again, his voice coming out shrill, “How can you not know the answer to a question like that?!”
Before he could process fully what was happening Peter’s hand was on his mouth and he was pressed up against a wall, “If you insist on screaming you will be forced to bed, we clear on that?” Drake tried to struggle for a bit before finding Peter just as inescapable as Edith had been. He nodded his head as he stopped struggling, a far away look entering his eyes. The reporter continued on, never removing his hand from Drake’s mouth. “Now we don’t know when Troy will be served. Early on we all agreed that if we didn’t know which meal was human then none of us could feel too bad for enjoying it. We aren’t monsters after all.”
He removed his hand from the younger man’s mouth and picked his pipe up from the ground, sighing at the loss of perfectly good tobacco. Drake looked livid, but he kept his voice calm, “And that isn’t anything terribly horrible in your eyes?”
Peter shrugged, “Compared to what goes on later it doesn’t exactly stack up.” He smiled, his teeth showing predatorily as he placed a hand on Drake’s shoulder in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, “But a religious scholar like you should be honored. It is not every day you get to take part in the Bacchanal.”
Peter turned away to head back into the room. “Come on now. The drinks should be starting up again, this time in earnest. It wouldn’t do to be late.” From behind him he heard cautious footsteps following him as they once more entered into the dining room to continue the festivities.
adrehel 