Cleaning Up Percy Jackson's Multitude of Messes

VI ~ Riggs

My luck was really turning around. Which made me suspicious. Good things never happened without bad things happening in equal measure. Kind of like karma, but usually more violent. Of course, the good luck of being dropped in Manchester could be the equal of the bad luck of being attacked on the bus by a crazy fat lady with whips, but I don't think I'm quite ready to assume anything of that nature yet.

We were in the residential portion of Manchester, not the poor slums like I usually hung out in, but the incredibly rich ones, with huge lawns and sixty room mansions with Roman style columns and millions of dollars of cars parked out front. We stood out quite a lot, but only the weirdos trailing behind me were uncomfortable. I knew my way around this place, and I knew my plan was flawless, so why be uncomfortable? We'd spent so much time walking here that it was starting to get seriously dark, the tastefully styled street lamps flickering to life above us.

Finally, we reached our destination: a mansion that was even bigger and shinier than the rest, nestled cozily and imposingly in a flower garden so bright it hurt my eyes and a natural wall of bamboo. It was so tasteful; normal folks only wish they could be so carelessly tasteful. And rich.

I tramped across the undeniably lush lawn, ignoring the tasteful gravel path, and leaned on the doorbell until I felt everyone in the tasteful abode is sufficiently riled. An angry looking blonde lady in her forties opened the door, and shot me a death glare.

"Yes?" Wow, she sounded pretty riled. I wonder why.

"Yes, I'm here to see Jim? Just tell him it's his old buddy, Cicero." I breezed past her into the house, and my dweebs followed apologetically. The woman looked like she was about to start yelling, but instead she turned and began stomping up the grand staircase. She paused towards the top and as she looked back at me, I saw something flickering through her eyes.

"Do I know you?" She asked in a lower voice.

I shook my head at her, confused. "You don't seem familiar to me. Who are you, again?"

"Cynthia Smith. I've been working for Mr. Edwards for about five years, but before that I was Fredrick Jonathan's secretary."

Fredrick Jonathan was well known as a lawyer to the rich and famous, and also well known for being a dirty, lying, cheater. "Sorry, doesn't ring any bells." She gave a shrug and nodded, then continued on her way up the stairs. I flopped back onto a plush couch and stretched out. My new friends stared at me, Chrys like she planned on fainting, and Diago like he's afraid to get dirt on the house.

"So, um, why are we in a famous politician's living room?" Diago finally asked.

"Because", I answered, "we needed a place to stay, and I have one; this guy owes me a favor."

He nodded. "And why, exactly, does he owe you?"

"You don't need to know." I have dirt on him. I mean, come on, he's a politician.

Diago's noise of confusion was interrupted by a deep and manly sigh of disappointment. Chrys nearly shot out of her shoes and Diago spun to look at the top of the stairs, looking guilty. I fluffed the pillow behind my head without looking up. "Hey Jimmy, how's it going?"

"I hope you know that this is not appreciated." He said.

"Really? And here I thought we were friends." I answered sarcastically. "Look, we're just here to stay the night, eat some food and go, preferably with a car if you've got one." I was pretty sure he had a car, or else he just had the ten car garage for show and decoration. He watched me smile sardonically for a few minutes before his spirit and resolve break like a little, dry twig and he gives in. Honestly, I was surprised he lasted that long; I had some prime dirt on the guy.

"Fine. There's a bedroom up the stairs and to the right at the end of the hallway, the kitchen is to your left and I'll have a car in the driveway at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, which is when you'll be leaving." He turned and made his way back to his office and called over his impeccably suited shoulder, "And don't disturb my work!" Before slamming the door behind him, which was a bit childish.

I, naturally, made my way to the kitchen, which was quite well stocked and devoid of people, two things that made me very happy, especially when combined. Diago followed with uncertainty, with Chrys bringing up the rear, asking, "But if there's only one bed, where are we all supposed to sleep?"

I dug through the industrial sized fridge, pulling out some beef, broccoli, whatever I felt like. "Well," I grinned at her, "I guess you two will just have to share." Chrys turned the color of a very ripe tomato and Diago tried to cover his blush by studying a wall. Smooth, man, very smooth. "I mean, for purely practical reasons, of course. You wouldn't want someone to sneak up on you while you're alone, would you? That could be disastrous." I was a terrible person. I loved it.

"Now," I slapped my hands together, "who wants some Chinese?"

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This interesting character's POV is written by a fellow wattpadaleker, dogsarepeopletoo, who is an amazing writer just doesn't like to post her stuff. Yet, they don't mind if I don't post it for them. *shrugs* Oh, well. Next update will, always, be Saturday after next. Vote, comment, whatevs. See you guys then!

-WT44