The bitter taste of black liquorice was something I never understood the appeal of; it was a nasty excuse for a sweet.
Makhi used to enjoy them and always bought a piece from the corner shop when he could. Those memories carried me throughout my tasks in the mansion.
My job was simple; I helped the boy cook, pick out his clothes, arrange his schedule, manage his mail, pay his bills, and make his tea. The easier tasks, such as his finances, bored me. His wardrobe was so drab, formal, and stiff that I could not even pull a fun outfit from his collection. However, I expected that. What I did not expect was picking out books for him to read and sitting by the fireplace while he read them.
I knew I had to accompany him whenever he went out because of his poor eyesight in the daytime. Maybe it was a blessing that the afternoon's lustre was dimmed by a thick fog that rolled from the marsh like a wool blanket.
"Shite, can't see nothing now," I grumbled. I stood by with a lamp illuminating the garden for Loukas to work in.
Wasn't he wealthy enough to afford a gardener?
"Um . . . I guess I have to hurry after I care for Momm—Mother's marigolds," he stuttered as his gloved hands disappeared into the fog.
"Mama's marigolds are trying to get us sick," I said.
I did not know whether he saw me roll my eyes at his concern for the weeds. But, I never expected to receive a bouquet of the brightest flowers we tended for the day. It was a thank-you gift for my patience.
No one had ever given me flowers before . . .
This job was more than simply peculiar. I never expected to smile at his cooking or see myself calming him down whenever he had a nightmare. He never elaborated on his dreams, but with his clammy, sweaty skin and shaky breath, I assumed it was for the best. It was all weird, but I could not say I hated it.
The boy was so nervous that, at first, he could barely look me in the eye as we spoke. His gaze was always on the ground and his shoes, never on the person before him. I would always remember when I saw faint, horizontal scars on his arms and thighs when I walked in on him dressing. Ever seen a human tomato before? Loukas would probably win the grand prize in a contest like that.
Meanwhile, I knew my end goals and began my search on my Sundays off. My drawers were empty when I arrived, like every cabinet of the butler's quarters. Not one sign of Makhi was found in this room, even though he had lived there for months.
I had to be more direct in my search for him.
My first course of action was to gather information from the other servants, as few as they were. I always had a natural charm, so with a brush of my hair and a wink of my eye, my questions began. Yet, all I got was more concerning information about the young owner of the manor.
"Sorry, but I know nothing about this boy. He barely goes outside or even looks at us, mostly sending some temps to do the talking for him," the maid said, very much done with me, even after I complimented her large, enticing bosom any man would fall over for.
Bloody slag. Could she not take a joke?
"Brown hair, green eyes, crippled leg? Yes, I've seen him around, Patchwork. Probably did what the rest of these ragamuffin men do with Master Asbjorn. In one day and leave the next," said the accountant.
That . . .
That was not Makhi.
I restrained my annoyance at this bastard insulting him. He knew nothing about my friend. Makhi would not have just come and gone without a word. He might do many things, but to leave me in a void of emptiness was not one of them.
He was far from a good man, in and out of jail, getting into fights. He was more or less like me but was always more gullible than myself. I always kept my guard up, but he, with his big dumb grin, accepted everything.
The fool did not even notice when I felt a lot for him.
I did not even entertain the glasses-wearing penny bugger's offer of "I'll tell you for a price." Something was wrong, and I refused to give up my search for answers. Hence, I decided to go to the man himself, Loukas.
"Hey, boy. I'm bored," I said as I poured his evening tea.
Loukas pulled his nose from his book to say, "S-sorry, I don't have a lot for you to do right now."
"How about a little game? You and me," I suggested, pulling out a deck of cards.
The library was a cosy little room with a fireplace to huddle for warmth and a splendid sitting area surrounded by towers upon towers of bookshelves.
The boy's red eyes stared at me in disbelief at my offer.
"What? Never played a little game between men before?"
Loukas fiddled with his fingers. "No, I haven't since my brother . . . But that was years ago."
"Huh? You have a brother?" I asked, a bit surprised at the revelation. "Where's that lad?"
Loukas breathed a laugh that sounded oddly empty and cold. "I wouldn't know. We—I was separated at eight. I've been here since . . ."
I gave the young man a simple knock on the arm. "Hey! Don't get the morbs about it. We'll give you some fresh air away from this damn mud pit another time. So let's play like men for today."
The boy's blush deepened at my offer, and his hand grasped the shoulder I hit cautiously. "You always make jokes."
"I ain't joking, Loulou. Anyway, we're playing All fours. You know this, right?"
Loukas' solemn posture was remedied by my shuffling. "Oh, in the novel, the children of Marybeth and Jefferson played it before the landslide, right?"
". . . he, who?"
"Never mind, but yes?"
"Usually, I prefer a good game of dominos, but I doubt you highfalutin people got them. I normally bet some cash with something to drink alongside."
"I . . . I don't drink."
I licked my lips at the revelation. "Come on. A little sip together to loosen us up for some fun."
I knew one thing, drunk men did not lie. A positive for Loukas—he needed to relax a little around me and not be so stiff and worried every waking moment of the day.
The tall man scratched the back of his neck, eyes squinted at such a proposal. "Um . . . I guess my uncle has a few drinks and wines. I mean, I never drank them or—"
"You get the glasses, and I set up the cards. Alright, baby boy?"
"Hide!" Loukas gawked at the name, looking away with obvious embarrassment, which I could not help but laugh at.
In no time, we set everything up, and I was amazed that the old dead bastard had that green poison on his shelves. Right there for a young man like Loukas to innocently get a hold of. I said nothing as I poured the emerald liquid into our glasses. Both drinks held a smooth yet dangerous aura.
I picked up my glass and asked, "You're a pretty fancy fella. Ever tried this with some water and a bit of sugar?"
"Um, no. Why?" he asked as he picked up his cards.
His eyes seemed enamoured by the glasses' bright, almost ethereal green shade. "It's so pretty," he whispered.
Dear lord.
Loukas was something else. How could a grown man like him, who lived in the lap of luxury, not have at least heard or tried something like that? The more I learned about him, the more I wondered if this lad was adopted. Despite his looks and manners, he did not act like what I expected of the son of a wealthy family. Every so-called poet at the pubs, who were as empty-pocketed as me, would use the last of their coins on the spirit. If only to feel and act like they were a part of the upper class already, they would boast and show off to all who would listen how they'd powder their hair and write their claim to fame.
Being invited to one lavish party did things to people.
I heard the sound of a gag which brought me out of my musings to witness Loukas covering his mouth with his brows knitted in disgust, cup in hand.
"Urg, this is disgusting," he cried.
"There's your answer," I said, snickering at his reaction. "Do you enjoy the bitter taste of garden worms? They say adding water makes it less like a mouthful a parrot feathers, but those blokes at the pub also added a sugar cube. Unless you love the taste of piss and iron, you can try it straight."
"Um . . . No," Loukas said as he fumbled with glass. "Okay, I'll try."
He allowed me to add my little additions to the drinks before us. I noticed his gaze fixate on the colour change with a noticeable wince. The water muted the antiseptic green, and I dipped a spoon into the mixture, slowly letting the sugar dissolve. It wasn't as pretty, but I'd grown accustomed to the sweet taste. Not that appealing at a glance, but there was an unrefined splendour past it all.
I sipped at my now cloudy fluid as I stared at my cards. I briefly peeked over my hand to watch Loukas take a small sip. His eyes grew wide, and he stared at his cup as if it was gold.
"It's . . . nice," he said, eyes not once leaving his glass and barely containing a small smile. I could not help but grin at his enjoyment; at least he was smiling more lately.
Starting with an alright trump suit, I smiled at Loukas and said, "You know, with these fine drinks, you can impress a girl. Get a fine taste of cherry on these cold lonely nights."
"No, that's r-rude to call a lady that, Hide."
"What? It's a compliment for fine young things, baby boy."
"Don't call me that. And no, it's not."
"Come on, Loulou, it's just some advice for a handsome lad like yourself."
Loukas' gaze was on his cards before he placed them down and said, "Oh, um, St-stand. I guess. I doubt any would be interested in me, and I'm not . . .interested."
Already confident in his cards?
"Ah, let me rephrase. I'm sure any man would enjoy this kind of thing."
I was only semi-joking, but Loukas' reaction said everything. He ducked behind his cards and muttered something I could not quite hear. His body was stiff, and his hands shook as if I had told him there was a bomb underneath the mansion.
"N-No—I'm . . ."
I rolled my eyes. "Loulou, you're a handsome guy with decent height and a pleasant smile. It makes little sense that you got nothing to warm your bedside. You are too sweet for your own good. Guys love that in a man."
"W-Wait, you think I'm . . . handsome?"
He visibly relaxed and unclenched his hands. I needed him to know that I wouldn't judge him on what he fancied. Shady to use that for information, but I had my goals and would use any means to achieve them.
"Um, yeah? Anyone with eyes can see that. You probably have a decent size cock too. I'm rarely wrong with guesses."
"HIDE!"
I laughed in his face. "Yes, that's my name."
Loukas laid his cards on the table face up and asked, "You can say anything, can you? Um, are you a—"
"Well yeah, I ain't watering myself down to impress. Also, if you're asking if I'm a Mary, I'll say yes. I'm a Mary who gets the finest tarts on the street, hehe."
I watched him puff his cheeks in his usual flustered nature, but I also saw the corners of his lips curl up into a slight smile. My gaze went to his glass, half full of that now cloudy, sugar-filled mess of a drink that could make a bigger mess of a man.
I should start with my actual questions . . .
"So, I've seen your ads around town a lot, so it makes me wonder why people are quitting this fine work."
Loukas shifted in his seat and said, "I . . . Xander recommended I get you—No! I mean . . . I n-needed butler and all."
"Xander?"
"Oh, um . . . His name is Alexander, but he wants me to call him Xander."
I looked at the boy carefully. Nothing about him showed that he was lying. The fact was that this Alex fella might be who I should dig about here.
"Eh, hoity-toity guy. I've only spent one second around him and I already feel his pompous cloud in my porridge."
"Pompous cloud," Loukas snickered. It was strangely sweet to hear from him. "I—he's nice, just . . ."
"Heh, but what is he to you, though? Relative? Friend? Business associate?"
Whore?
"What he is, indeed. That's what I want to know."
I was taken aback by how harsh Loukas sounded as he spat out those words. His glare was more focused on the cards, but it did little to dull the sharpness from them.
He must have realised his changed behaviour and dropped his eyes to his feet. "Nothing, he um . . . used to visit a lot and never paid me much mind. Mostly assisted with deals that Uncle dealt with until things happened. Then, he was nice—brought books and things when I was stuck here . . ." There was this sad look in the boy's eyes as he poked at the cards, not even caring about his hand. "I'm awful," he muttered.
He raised his hands to his face in a soft sob.
"Um . . . Loulou?"
"Sorry, you can—you can go. I'm—"
I could just leave. This behaviour was common for him. Normally after he had a fun time with me, he got like . . . This. I was in no position to know what to truly do, but hesitantly, I reached out to touch his thigh, and he stiffened at the contact. His breath hitched, and he raised his eyes from his hands; those eyes were so red and wild.
With my steadiest voice, I said, "It's alright, baby boy. I'd like to just sit and drink with you instead. Is that alright?"
Loukas gave me a wry smile, wiping his wet eyes on his sleeves. He picked up his glass and said, "Yes . . . Yes, I would like that, Hide."
"Don't mention it, Loulou."
I figured I would not get much from the boy about my friend. He seemed so out of it all that it felt off to watch and listen to him. A writhing thing at the pit of my stomach churned when I spoke my usual lies and fake pleasantries with him.
Makhi . . .
He hated that about me; his last letter was so angry. However, Loukas and I had the drinks and his library to ourselves. So, getting half rats was on our cards tonight.
Words spilt out like the drinks from our chalices about so many things. They were about our lives prior, his interest in my intelligence with machines, my interest in his gardening skills, our wants or needs, and I realised . . .
It had been years since I enjoyed myself like this with another man.
"Loulou, you can't fool me," I snickered, throwing an arm around his waist. I knelt by him on the cushion of the brown leather settee. My height was dwarfed by his tall, imposing build as my hand wandered up his solid chest. Those clothes hid such a firm, well-built thing, and I wanted to have more than a peek.
"Can't fool you—what does that mean?" Loukas took a sip and swayed with a big smile.
THE FOLLOWING CONTENT HAS BEEN CUT TO READ THE FULL VERSION PLEASE PURCHASE THIS NOVELLA FROM THE LINK BELOW
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Did this man just sniff me?
"So sweet. I could just eat you up."
Before I could respond, the doorknob clicked.
"Excuse me, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but I came here—"
With that, Loukas sloppily pulled himself away to see who had stepped in. Brown ruffled hair, ugly glasses, and lips pulled into a sneer of disgust. That gross accountant I had to deal with earlier.
"I see I must have interrupted," he said.
"Oh, um, I was busy, and—" Loukas tried to scramble to his feet, only to stagger and fall on the carpet.
"I was going to speak with you about the finances your uncle has left behind, however.."
Annoyed and forced to sober up, I got to my feet and tilted my head to the man. "Yeah, you can do it now."
"That would not be necessary. It's clear that the boy has little business sense. I'll take my leave."
"Hey, wait!"
Blazes, I wanted to avoid getting Loukas in trouble.
"No worries. He always deals with finances. It's okay. He's Uncle's accountant," Loukas mumbled as he tried to once again pull himself to his feet.
The stuffy man's glare held nothing but disdain towards what he saw as he turned away and said under his breath, "Of course, the mentally slow had to be disgusting."
I picked up a book and tossed it, hitting the wall instead. "Shut up, you old rat-faced bastard. You wanted to fuck me, too! Not so innocent yourself. You fucking creep. Disgusting." I got to my feet and ran after him, blinded by my anger, not afraid to give a bastard a beat down when needed.
The man lazily turned to me and said, "I would not do that if I were you."
"Save it."
"You know Loukas Asbjorn's relatives will not be too pleased if they found out what he has been doing with all these older men he invites."
Then it hit me what this man was insinuating.
I was insulted; I wasn't that much older. Eleven years was not that big of a gap. He was obviously blind. I was young at heart. How dare he? He was probably jealous that I aged better than him.
I also did not give a damn about getting outed to rich idiots; that sounded like their problem, not mine. However, I would not risk losing this position before I find out what happened to Makhi. It was doubtful Loukas' relatives would allow me around him if they knew. My hands clutched tight, and my eyes pinned on him, yet I was unable to land one finger upon the man.
"Hmph, nothing from you? Good, I'll be off."
I needed the last word in. "Well, fuck you. Call him a degenerate, but you wanted me to suck your cock."
"I thought you were a young maiden and not something the Abjorn's family would be ashamed of. Easy to mistake," he grumbled further, filling me with seething hatred as I watched him leave.
I remembered Loukas and ran back to the room I had left him in.
"Um, Loulou? Are you okay?" Loukas still knelt where he was, his red eyes on me, wide and focused. "Loulou?" I repeated.
"He wanted to . . ."
"Yeah, but screw him; he's got nothing."
He mumbled something, scratching his cheek, something that seemed more like random words than any coherent sentence. "Stupid, stupid. Hate that. Him" were a few of them.
"Loulou, stop it. You aren't stupid, and I'm not taking any nonsense here, regardless of my stupid status," I said. "I don't want you to take shit lying down, alright? I've heard enough of what people say about you. And they're wrong."
"You know, only Xander ever stood up for me, and even then, no one has ever said that to me."
"Well, I'm saying it now. You're a good boy. Okay, baby?"
He bent down and pulled me into a tight hug, his arms enveloping my entirety in a warm embrace.
My questions about Makhi were left unanswered. My initial plan had failed, but I did not mind then. So I allowed myself to stay in his arms, taking away the bitterness of before.
The next day, I found a box tied with red ribbon on the dining table. On top sat a pair of familiar-looking glasses. I was still pissed with the man; if I could not punch him might as well steal whatever fancy gift he got. With a mischievous grin, I flicked off the lid, and it fell to the ground.
My mouth became dry. I felt my hands shake. A single green eye was within the box. The whites were bloodshot, the blood that coated it was thick like jelly, the once emerald iris was murky and cloudy, and the pupil was dilated in an animalistic fear. A single note lay beside it, soaking the deep crimson.
"All for you."
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