The Butler - 1. Chapter I

After I let the Cognac do its work, it somehow calming my insides a little, I picked up the phone and dialed the first number, contacting the middle son, William Montgomery.

A woman picked up, sounding sleepy and, as far as I knew, he didn’t have a maid so this would be one of his ‘sweetheart of the week” - ladies he enjoyed so much, much to the chagrin of his father, who’d kept him on somewhat of a tight leash these days.

“Yes hello. May I speak to the man lying next to you, please. This is Christopher McAllister calling, at the direction of Mr. Montgomery’s father.”

It took some time; I heard muffled speech and then a short acknowledgment.

“William?”

“What do you want, Chris. Do you know how early it is?”
And suddenly the reality of it all hit me. He was truly gone and I spaced out, then started when I heard my name screamed through the speaker.
“Chris!? You there? Chris, c’mon, man, now you’re scaring me. Chris?”
Swallowing down another lump, I gave him the news.

It went fully silent on the other end of the line. Then I heard a deep sigh and a soft curse, which I took for something positive; he and his father didn’t always see eye to eye, but I was pretty sure he did love his old man.

“Are you okay?”

Slightly taken aback, I answered that I was fine. He usually wasn’t all that sensitive to other people’s feelings.

“Ehr….yes, thank you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Did you call Seth and Greg yet?”

“No, you were the first on my list.”

“Oh, Greg’s gonna love that,” he said dryly.

Undoubtedly, but I didn’t make this list. I dreaded the call to the eldest son.

“Probably.”

“You know damn well he won’t like it. So don’t tell him. Lie if he asks, okay?”

“If that’s what you want me to do…”
He sniggered.

“Want me to call them?”

“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary. Is there anything you need me to arrange for you? Transportation?”

“No, I’ll manage,” he replied, “I’ll try to be there by dinner time. You don’t have to pick me up from the airport, I’ll take a cab. Thank you for letting me know. Hang in there, okay?”

He hung up and I scribbled a little star beside his name. Next up was Seth, who took the news very hard.

Being his father's favorite and, at thirty six, the youngest, he was the most emotional of the three. Way back when, he’d been closely guided by his father to follow into the footsteps of his elder brother, to present a hardliner (Gregory) and a more docile (Seth) representation at the head of Montgomery International, an import/export giant on the east coast.

But Seth had taken a different route, instead becoming an artist and a quite successful one at that. We’d been to a showing of his not three weeks earlier.

During my time with Mr. Montgomery, I’d learned it had taken Seth many years to finally own up to his father that his old man’s dreams weren’t his. It was then that Senior’s interest in the company fully ceased, and he left the reins in the hands of the one last on my list: the eldest son, Gregory Montgomery Jr.

His assuming the reins at Montgomery International had taken place years before I came into his father's employ and I only met him after his father had told him he’d finally found ‘a keeper’. That was roughly a year after I had started work. All that time, I'd never met the eldest son, though I knew he visited on occasion, but Gregory had almost tripped over his own legs to come check things out, once we spoke on the phone.

Of the three, he was a hard, impenetrable man, aged forty one; as rumors went, he was ruthless in business. From personal experience, I knew him to be cruel, crude and cold. Horrible man. In company, he’d be civil, standoffish and aloof. But alone, towards me? The man scared me half to death. He was always watching me, looking for error and always seemed angry with me. He usually spoke in a threatening tone, unpleasant, always giving me the idea I was on the verge of being devoured by some rabid animal. To others he was charming, even warm. He had a dual personality it seemed.

I couldn’t think of anything I’d ever done to him, to warrant that. Well, perhaps one little mishap, but that hardly was enough reason to treat me the way he did. Maybe he just had it in for me, though once, when we had first met years ago, he hadn’t been. In fact, he’d been pleasant then, inquisitive and charming; interested in what I had to say. The other personality. Even then I'd felt, almost immediately, that I had to be careful around him. He was not one to trifle with and had the uncanny ability to read me. Somehow, I knew he was dangerous. A sinister vibe came off him, making me feel nervous. I knew right away, even standing with my back turned to him, when he entered a room. That heavy blanketing feeling you get on a scorching hot summer day, that heavy drumming in your ears.

To this day, I still remembered how those dark eyes burned into mine, watching my every move, even the tiniest gestures. Watching my mouth and my jittery hands. Nothing escaped his notice; he'd see a thread and start pulling and I had a few threads to pull.

Which brings me to the story of how I actually got here – a short trip down memory lane.