Grapes In The Winter

A Beginning Of Sorts

Chase's POV:

"You're sixteen now, son. It's time for you too assume more responsibility around here." This again, I thought to myself. How do I tell my dad that I only stay at his fucking vineyard for the free booze, handouts and the slutty clubs in town. Just not him. Everything but him. 

"Sure dad." I shrugged him off. I stood up, sauntering over to the wine cart and pouring myself a glass of chardonnay. 

I'm an alcoholic. 

But, it's not like anyone here gives a shit. 

My mom lives out in the French countryside. She owns a flower shop. She tries her best. 

But my dad's rich. So he got custody. 

"I want you to want this, son." He said, gesturing out his terrace that overlooked our vineyard. 

"I do, dad." I lie, sipping my chardonnay. When he looked out those doors, he saw beauty and profit. I just saw a bunch of fucking grapes. 

"Prove it," He said. How the fuck does he expect me to prove to him that I want a bunch of fucking grapes? I down the glass in my hand, slamming on his desk and leave. 

I need to get out of here, I think to myself and I walk out the front doors. The snow is mostly melted off the ground, but the path leading away from the estate is still dotted with water. 

I spot a couple walking down the path towards the house. Prove it, my dad's words still ring in my ear. I walk down the steps to greet them. As they draw closer, I realize it's two women. One is around forty, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. The other is younger than the first, she looks about my age, her hair is jet black and she is wearing chunky white combat boots, black dockers, and a light blue top, that's tied up in the middle of her tits. Not the usual clientele. I think to myself, raising an eyebrow. The girl is carrying a suitcase and has a jacket draped over her forearm. Suddenly their both in front of me. 

"You must be the help." The younger girl blurts, handing me her bag and coat. 

"Uhh..." I stutter and before I've regained the ability to speak, they've past me and are through the door. I stumbling in after them, handing the girls bags to the real help. 

The pair turns left and heads into the dining room. Oh, no please come on in. I mumble. The girl extends her middle finger out towards her, without turning around.

RJ's POV:

I flip off the helper boy and smile to myself. 

"Camilla!" A man bellowed from in the dining room. The man, who assumed was Walter Van Henderbilt, was sitting at the end of the dining table. He was wearing a suit, definitely Italian his salt and peppered hair was gelled neatly against his angular face. 

"I see you've met my son." He said. 

"Son?" I question. The helper boy moves behind Mr. Van Henderbilt's chair. 

"Yes, my son Chase here is the future of this vineyard." He smiles proudly, patting the boys arm. Shit. I close my eyes. Great first impression on your mom's boss's offspring, fuckhead. I think to myself. 

"Good to meet you, Chase." My mom said, plastering a smile across her ageless face. My mom has gotten increasingly more uptight since she dismissed my father from our lives. She insisted that moving up into Colorado, to this vineyard, would be a fresh start for us. I didn't want to leave Italy, but if it made my mom happy and got us as far away from my father as possible, I would go along with it anyway. 

I snapped back into the present, my mom had moved towards the table and I quickly followed her. Her and the boss were chattering on about her new position as the wine consieresh  for his vineyard. 

I hadn't fully understood why she'd even wanted to leave Italy, besides the obvious. She had inherited a lot from my grandfather, she had invested it right and got in with all the right and powerful people. She had influence, reach and a whole lifetime of privilege and power ahead of her. 

"Chase, why don't you show Ren to the guesthouse?" Mr. Henderbilt's voice interrupts my thoughts. Chase raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. I glare and him and stalk off into the hallway. 

"So, Ren-" Chase starts as he leads me back out the front doors. 

"RJ." I correct him. 

"What's the J stand for?"

"Jesus." I respond, sarcastically. 

"A religious one are we, Re- RJ." He corrects himself this time. 

"Hardly." I scoff. He squints at me. "Sorry." I mumble. I hadn't pinned Chase as a religious person either. 

"Do you think you've offended me, RJ?" He asks. I scowl at him and toss my hands up. I already hate this cocky, christian asshole. 

"I don't know, have I?" I answer his question with a question of my own. 

"No." He shrugs. "Just trying to make you sweat." I shake my head, biting my tongue. He laughs, it's has a telltale rasp of someone who's had a cigarette or two in their lifetime. Of course he smokes. 

"You smoke." I say. He stops laughing. "I can tell." I shrug, smiling softly to myself. He's silent the rest of the walk to the house. He unlocks the door and pushing it open. I gasp slightly as I step into the entryway, their is a small wooden rack for shoes with a circular mirror mounted on the wall above it. The entryway is small but gives way into the expansive sitting room, a bay window on the back wall that displays the gorgeous scenery of the vineyard that lies right outside it. Chase moves deeper into the house, I take the view in for a moment longer before following him. 

"This is you." He says, opening the first door on the left. 

My room is perfect. A queen sized four-poster bed is situated in the middle of the room. A vintage record player sits near the bay window. Sheer curtains are tied up to each of the bed posts and the bed itself is blanketed in a cloud of white duvets, throws and decorative pillows. A vase full of dried flowers sits on my nightstand. 

"It has... potential." I say, unable to hide the smile that inches across my lips. Chase smirks at my remark and stays awkwardly positioned in the doorway as I begin to flutter around the room and unpack. 

"Do you want me to... stay?" He shifts uncomfortably. 

"Sure." I respond, nodding to the box near the window. He chuckles, shaking his head but sitting down. All of my belongings are packed in boxes neatly positioned against the back wall. I pull my pocket knife from my boot and get to work slicing through the taped boxes. Chase watches me intently, like he's never seen a knife before. I roll my eyes and continue. I shove a couple of boxes in his direction and he raises an eyebrow at me, I wave my knife and he begins unpacking. I pull open the first box and begin removing and pushing my books unto the empty shelf in the corner of the room. I watch as rows of everyone from Bronte to Hemingway line up on the shelf. I place my worn copy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde unto my nightstand next to the pitiful flowers. 

I love those flowers. 

Chase is in the closet, hanging up my tops. I see him freeze in place, he turns a lace bralette in his hands. I sigh. He just looks from it to me and back at it. As if he's never seen a bra before. I almost laugh, but instead I stalk over to him pulling the undergarment from his hand and pushing back into the box. 

"Thank you for your help." I say, almost sarcastically but not quite. He actual was a big help, but I realize this after he's made his hasty exit from the room and have no time to correct myself. I finish the last of the boxes and turn to the record player. I scan the middle book shelf, where I've stored all of my records and select Prince. Purple Rain in the first to play and I collapse unto my bed. I realize then how tired I am from the trip up here and am asleep almost immediately.