Chapter #33The Kid in the Castle by: Seuzz   Joe returns just after noon, and helps polish up the last little bit and to contribute his hair to one of three jars of "golem sealant." "We need it for where we're going," he says.
"And where is this?"
"You'll see," Joe says. "You'll love it too, even if you're not going to be living there."
* * * * *
You're outraged when you pull up in front of your own house. "Keep your shirt on," Joe says. "We're just picking up the other Prescott. I called just before heading out."
"But he doesn't have to obey you," you object.
"He knew there was fun afoot," Joe retorts, and sure enough your double leaps enthusiastically into the back of the Durras brothers' truck.
You head downtown, but it's only for a brief stop in a back alley, where your golem takes off his clothes before Joe removes his mask, leaving an old hobo asleep on the filthy pavement. Frank then drives the three of you into the country. Fields and woodland spread out to the horizon. He turns the truck down an empty street which terminates at an imposing gate and wall. He gives his name into a camera, and the gate swings open. Joe excitedly grabs your arm and squeezes it.
You drive along for half a mile, toward a screen of trees, and when you're through it the vista opens up again. It is dominated by a house.
And what a house! It's somewhere between the biggest mansion you've ever seen and a small castle. Walls of grey slate loom up several stories, punctuated by a tower or two; wings ramble off, rising to steeply pitched roofs with gables and half a dozen chimneys. The road terminates in a broad semicircle in front of an immense garage. The doors are open, but there's a car out front: a low, silver sports coupe. "Porsche," Joe says. "Cost a hundred grand. Early graduation present for the kid I'm going to be. And there he is."
From out of the garage saunters a tall guy in a simple but stylish polo shirt, gray track pants, and brilliant white running shoes. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, setting off tanned cheeks and bright blue eyes. He grins and jerks his chin at you and your friends as Frank roars to a stop.
"Jonathan!" Frank calls as he gets out. "You give up on us?"
"I'm used to it," he laughs back. "It always takes people longer to get out here than they plan for."
"Straussler!" Joe shouts. He climbs out the other side of the truck, swinging the bag that's got all your mask supplies. "You takin' care of my wheels there?"
"It's not yours until you win that bet."
"I brought my skimpiest shorts. Warm her up, and I'll show you I can outrun her!"
Jonathan's eyes twinkle, even after they fall on you. "Hey, Jonathan Straussler," he introduces himself, and puts out a slim but powerful hand.
"Will Prescott," you reply, taking his.
"Will goes to Westside," Joe says. "We're trying to talk him into moving to Eastman. Thought we'd show him the kind of place he might start hanging out at."
"What can you tell me about Westside's ball team?" Jonathan asks with a sharp grin.
"Jonathan plays for the Eastman squad," Frank says. "Like us."
"Hope you don't hold it against us," Jonathan says.
"I don't pay much attention to school sports," you say. An awkward silence ensues.
"Well, come on," Joe says, slapping Jonathan playfully in the chest. "Take us to your hidey-hole, and then we'll hit the game room. Is Monique here? Or coming over?"
"Maybe later," Jonathan says, and leads you off toward the side of the house. "We had a date last night, so I probably won't see her till this evening."
"I'm jealous," Joe says.
"Of me?" Jonathan says. "You're the one who's got girls following him around everywhere."
"So do you," Joe retorts. "You just don't notice because you've got your eyes locked on Monique."
It's a longish walk around to the back, where a small, semi-detached wing looms. Jonathan leads you through some French doors into a large, high-ceilinged living room. It's tastefully furnished with a couple of low couches and beanbags; a large-screen, hi-def TV; and the biggest aquarium you've ever seen outside an institution. There's an open dining nook with a large, six-chair table setup, looking out through tall windows onto a patio and fountain; and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, stove, sink and pantry. A door opens onto another room through which you can glimpse a large desk with a big computer monitor. A staircase leads up to a landing with two closed doors.
Jonathan catches the way you're gaping. "My punishment corner," he says with a graceful shrug. "When I'm bad, my parents make me hang out in the main house. So I try to stay on their good side."
"You should see the ski lodge up in the mountains," Joe exclaims as he drops his bag onto the floor. "Fuck, I'd like to see it. The way Carpenter describes it, it's more like a chapeau!"
"Chateau, Joe," Frank corrects with more than a little irritation.
"You giving me the high hat?" Joe yells back.
"No, you're giving Jonathan the--"
Joe charges Frank, and Jonathan leaps away like a slim, two-legged gazelle as the brothers collide and grip each other. "So how long've you known these guys?" he asks you.
Joe answers for you. "Only a few days," he gasps from inside Frank's headlock. "Though it feel like we've known each other all our lives. Will grows on you fast." There's a brief scrimmage, and Frank topples back onto the sofa with Joe on top. "Ha! What a pussy!" He punches Frank hard, then leaps nimbly to his feet.
"Can I get you guys anything?" Jonathan asks, and steps toward the kitchen.
"Actually, now that you mention it, yeah," Joe says.
"What's your poison? I got--"
"All of it, Straussler," Joe says, and his voice is suddenly hard. "Frank, I gotta raging boner for this asshole's life." He unzips his bag. "Grab him, and let's get this exchange made."
Jonathan's face crinkles in puzzlement. Frank gives you a thin smile, and holds up a clenched fist. Jonathan's face goes white, and he stiffens and gasps.
"You like sharing your stuff, Straussler," Joe says, advancing on his classmate. "Don't think I'm ungrateful, but I want more than you've been handing out." He slaps a mask onto Jonathan's face.
You feel your own knees tremble a little at the brutality of it all.
Straussler's head lolls to the side, but he remains upright despite going limp all over. Frank jerks his hand, and Straussler, still erect, slides across the floor and tumbles face first onto another sofa. Joe snaps his fingers at you as he digs back into the bag. "Clothes off, Prescott," he says. "My shit's going on you. Your mask is going on him. And his face is going on me."
* * * * *
Waking inside Joe Durras's head is like waking to a golden dawn; you blink, and have a hard time concentrating, for thoughts seem to slide with a quicksilver ease. You're distracted by a motion out of the corner of your eye. Jonathan Straussler stands up from tying his shoes, and snaps a little gold chain around a tanned wrist. "Stage one complete," he murmurs, and lifts his chin with a trace of a smile. "Commencing stage two. Come on guys, lemme introduce you to my dad, a.k.a., the root of all evil."
You'd put on Joe's clothes before donning the mask, so you scramble quickly to your feet. You feel very powerful, and lightly flex your arms. Straussler gives you a crooked grin, and with a wave of his hand gestures you toward a door under the stairway. With another gesture he indicates that Will Prescott--who is looking slightly disordered--should remain behind.
The door leads onto a curved hall that connects to the main house. As you and Frank stride along in Straussler's wake, he points out various doors and where they lead. "Indoor swimming pool. Tennis courts. Squash court. Second kitchen. Life is sweet before you die." You pass through hallways and galleries until you're dizzied by the size of it all. Up a broad staircase and through more halls, until you come to a double set of doors. Jonathan pauses to take a deep breath before opening them.
It's a huge office with tall windows looking out onto the lawn. At the far end, behind a mammoth desk, crouches a balding man with a gray moustache. He's on the phone, and he frowns as he looks up. Jonathan motions you and Frank to stand just inside the doorway.
The man growls and grumbles into the phone, and looks up with a slight scowl when he hangs up. "You need something, son?"
"Yeah, these are some friends of mine," Jonathan says with a suave casualness. "We wanna talk about giving them some of my allowance."
"That's your business," the man replies.
"They want more than I can carry them for. Frank?"
The man freezes and stiffens just as Jonathan had done. Like the practiced athlete he is, Straussler leaps nimbly across the desk and puts the last blank mask to his father's face.
"We'll have him set up some hidden accounts," he says to you. "He'll deposit a few million for our use. Not enough that anyone would notice, and he'll invent a bullshit excuse if the accountants ask." He shakes his head. "Fucker's got slush funds all over the place. So many politicians needing so many bribes," he sighs.
"So, you wanna hang out here for the day," he then asks you. "Or go have fun with some other dudes? Maybe some girls?"  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author