Man of the Year (Drake Story)

Chapter Atten

“Good morning, sunshine!” Keziah screamed at the top of her lungs, beating a wooden spoon against a stainless steel frying pan that I didn’t remember owning.

I rolled around in the sheets of our new bed, letting myself bask in the dribble on my pillow and the softness of my silk sheets. For a few long, convincing moments, I thought that I was at Drake’s mansion, still hearing the anonymous voice from that dark apartment, the sound of Belphoebe’s descent to death, the cracking of my heart through my ears. But I woke up, finally, and I was here. I was at my own mansion, looking into the wide-awake eyes of my current entertainment.

“Good morning,” I grumbled. She set a moist kiss above my eyebrow and wiped it away with her finger.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“Where’d you get that pan?”

“Madeleine gave it to us as a pre-housewarming gift.”

I managed to slide up from the sheets and sit up against the pillow, though my eyes were still leaning shut and her voice still sounded far away and unreal.

“What do you mean by ‘pre-housewarming’?” I asked her. Keziah rested the pan and spoon down on the night table and crawled over me to sit on my left, her legs folded and her back slouched.

“We’re throwing a housewarming party. Tonight. Open invite. You should probably,” She paused to sniff me, and then quickly pulled away, employing a look of grimace on her face. “You should probably shower before then.”

“Keziah, we just moved in.” I told her. “I don’t think a housewarming party is necessary yet.”

“Why not?” She pouted. “We already have all our furniture.”

“How about we wait until we put some food in the fridge? Or buy some body wash for the bathroom? Keziah, you don’t even know the address by heart.”

She thought for a moment, and once she realized I was right, she unfolded her legs, picked up her pan, and stomped out of the room. Then there was just me, just my peace and quiet alone. I looked around the room, at the pre-bought furniture and how beautiful yet impersonal it was. There was nothing about it that spelled out ‘Aubrey’, or ‘Keziah’ (although there was nothing about Keziah that spelled out Keziah). There were no art on the walls, none of our jewelry in the boxes, no pictures on the dressers. I didn’t know what I would do to personalize this place, or if I’d be able to do it before the ‘party’, but I knew that if miraculously, a picture of Belphoebe would fall into my hands, I’d frame it and put it right above my bed.

In the meantime, I had to deal with the important people, the ones who were still alive.

                                                                      ----

I couldn’t call Amanda again. I didn’t have the guts for what kind of news she’d have this time, nor did I have the patience and energy to deal with her ranting. Especially now that she knew how much money I had.With how desperate she was, she might’ve already known that I bought the house. That would set her beyond the boiling point.

For these reasons, I wasn’t ready to hear her voice yet.

So I found it on my own. Her address. It wasn’t hard; I knew as much as I needed to about her to weed through the Amanda’s in California. I knew her first and last name, her phone number, the school she went to. After going through those specifics, there were only two Amanda’s. The only thing left I had to look for was which one of them had a child.