better than winning

09 | The Little Prince

Alcohol, drugs and violence aren't the solution, it is a phrase that everyone was taught as a kid.

My parents weren't good at teaching.

If they would be, I wouldn't sit on a balcony drunk and fighting the urge to kill myself.

Maybe I need to stop breaking my own promises to not drink too much.

-

There it is, the book I've been searching for was located in a light flooded library. Like a school library, it had tables and chairs in the middle, but a comfortable seating area with couches and armchairs is in a corner. The design was kept in a light, woody stile. I slide the book out of the shelf.

The navy blue cover looked untouched, "The Little Prince" the title read, below it is printed the boy with the green scarf and his little fox looking up to him. On the back is the signature of the author. And on the first page is a detail only the original version of the book, a sketch of the fox.

Seating myself in an armchair I begin to read the first chapter. I turn my head at the sound of a door opening, Avery entered the room, followed by Jameson and Grayson.

"What are we doing today?" Grayson asked his brother. "We?" Jameson replies. Grayson carefully rolls up his cuffs. He had put on a stiff, starched shirt like an armour. "Can't an older brother spend time with his younger brother, an intruder with dubious intentions, and a well-known persona with even more dubious intentions, without being immediately cross-examined?"

"He doesn't trust us about you." Avery translates. "I'm such a delicate flower." Jameson's tone is casual, but his eyes told a different story. "I need protection and constant supervision."

He does need it, because he's a reckless idiot.

Grayson remains unmoved by his sarcasm. "It seems so" He smiles with a razor sharp expression. "What are we doing today?", he repeats.

I have no idea what part about his voice pains my ears.

"The heiress and I," Jameson replies emphatically, "are following up on a guess, no doubt spending a lot of time on something you would certainly describe as borderline idiotic" Grayson frowns. "I don't talk like that."

He doesn't, his fancy ass wouldn't use inappropriate words.

Jameson lets an arched eyebrow do the talking. Grayson narrows his eyes. "And what assumption are you three-" his eyes shift to me, still holding the navy book between my hands."two making?"

When it becomes clear that Jameson wouldn't answer, Avery does, "We believe your grandfather's letter to Jameson contains a clue as to what he was thinking."

"What he was thinking," Grayson repeats, his sharp eyes casually scanning mine and then Averys face, "and why he left everything to you two."

Jameson leans his back against the doorframe. "It sounds like him, doesn't it?" he asks Grayson. "One last big game?"

Like I said sounds like a crazy old man.

I could tell Jameson wants Grayson to say yes.

He wants his brother's approval -or perhaps his confirmation. Maybe part of him wants to do this with him.

For a split second I see a spark of something in Grayson's eyes, but it fades so quickly.

"Frankly, Jamie," Grayson remarks, "I'm surprised you still feel like you even knew the old man." "I'm full of surprises." Jameson must have found himself wishing for something from Grayson, because the light in his eyes also goes out.