Man of the Year (Drake Story)

Chapter Femogtyve

I went back to the mansion. My eyes felt sore and my head was spinning, but I went back, because it was a responsibility I couldn’t neglect.

The servant who opened the door looked terribly frightened when he saw me. I didn’t know his name, but I knew that the last time I’d seen him he was wearing a black suit and white collar. Today, he wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans. His hair was a little messy and his hands weren’t clasped behind his back as usual. He was a man, not a servant.

“Hello, Mr. Aubrey.” He greeted me.

“Just Aubrey. Where are the others?”

“The slaves -

“They’re not slaves.” I corrected him.

“The ones who were in the mini-mansion, the workers, are are fed and clothed. Mr. Cyrus ordered that they be placed in the West Wing.”

“Why?”

“Because we have business to take care of.” Cyrus emerged from the kitchen. He nodded at the former servant and he scurried away to the East Wing. There was really no one here on this side of the house, just me and Cyrus. All I could hear was our breathing.

“What business?”

He walked away, back to the kitchen where he came from. I followed him, looking over my shoulder with each step to make sure that this wasn’t a trick he set up with Drake. Cyrus poured me a glass of wine.

“You don’t have anything heavier?” I took the glass.

“We can’t be too buzzed for what’s about to happen.” He took a sip of his own and sat on one of the bar chairs. “I sent all the newbies out, told them that I was inviting you over to talk and they should find somewhere else to be for the night because you were still angry at them. Drake is on his way now. I told him that Madeleine left. She did; she said she was going to his other house to look for him, but she won’t find him there. He’ll be here first. That’s when you say your last words to him. Whatever you want to say - I really don’t care. After you’re done, let me know, and I’ll give him the drink.”

“What drink?”

“I found this concoction of drugs that kills you within half an hour.”

“Where’d you find something like that?” I eyed him. He chuckled.

“I know a guy.”

I went over the plan. He’d have everything under control, I’m sure. There would be no mistakes and no unwanted surprises, and even if there were Cyrus would remove them before they could do any damage. We were fine. There was no reason to be nervous.

“If you told the newbies that I’m coming and they return to find Drake dead, won’t they think I did it?”

Cyrus finished his wine, taking the last sip slow enough to savor the taste. “You may have forgotten, Aubrey, but Drake’s death is what the newbies want. They don’t care who killed him. Once Drake’s gone, I’ll take his body and put it upstairs in his bedroom. His lawyer already knows that he’ll be dead by tonight, so once that’s finished the lawyer will bring the will. We’ll go over it, get our money, and then tomorrow one of them will find Drake in his bed and they’ll say he died in his sleep. Everyone gets their money tomorrow.”

I couldn’t look at Cyrus. Not with how easily he said this, like it was a game of tag. He was like a robot, so unattached, like someone had hired him for the job.

“Don’t you feel bad, though?” I asked him. He looked up at me with cold eyes, stroking the brim of his glass like a pet.

“You were there, Aubrey. You heard all that my mother told me. Drake is not my father. I grew up depressed with my mother. It was just her, and she always split herself into two, made sure she could be anywhere and everywhere so I didn’t feel like a deprived kid. There was nothing she could really do to mend the pain of not having a father and not knowing why. That’s until I was ten, and she showed me where she went during the day when she claimed she was going to ‘work’; to be with Drake. I loved him as a father all these years. He showed me how to be like him, how to be evil and to manipulate life to your benefit. He didn’t give me a chance to grow up good, to be a real man.” Three knocks came at the door then, forcing us to silence. Cyrus stood from the chair.