The Butler - 8. Chapter VIII

January 5th, 2011, Greenwich, CT

I remembered the incredible relief that had flooded me when the news came that, by some kind of miracle, I was in the clear. To this day, I’m still somewhat amazed about that; some of the ‘clients’ I had been with had been unsavory at best. Add to that the string of sleazy motel rooms, bad hygiene, unsafe sex; at least some of the tests should have been positive.

These days, I get a full physical every year, and everything’s checked. Never mind I hadn’t been with someone for over two years now.

I didn’t really miss it. Well, the relationship part. I did miss sex. I could watch porn, I guess, but that never really appealed to me. The occasional wank did the job of quick satisfaction. It definitely wasn’t perfect but what can you do, eh? I used to go out, quite frequently, enjoying regular (and very safe) sex on my days off, but the last two years the ailing health of Mr. Montgomery had prevented me from leaving the house for extended periods of time, even if he had insisted on it, several times. I just never wanted to leave him. He’d grown too dear to me. I realized then I loved him. Like a dad. I’d walk through fire for him, and back. He had saved me from myself.

Then, intruding on my reminiscences, the clock struck once. It was 3:30pm.

**********

Gregory Montgomery Jr. was already waiting, looking impatiently at his watch, when I brought the liquid-silver Jaguar XJ8L to a full stop right in front of him; his face looked like rolling thunder.

“What the devil took you so long!” he growled, as soon as I had popped the trunk and stepped out.

“I'm sorry sir; traffic you know.”

A little lie, really; traffic had been quite normal, I'd just taken my time. My wish for torrential rain, while he waited, hadn't been fulfilled, so he was lucky.

Coming around the car, I held the door open for him to step in. I then proceeded to load his luggage; he’d brought two large suitcases and five large clothing bags with suits.

I stored it in the trunk, careful not to let anything happen to the suits, still remembering the last earful I'd received several years ago, when I was still green behind the gills with all this stuff. I had, not on purpose, closed the trunk on two of his ultra-expensive suits and not noticed until it was too late. He'd been livid and threatened to dock my pay for it. His father had saved me thousands of dollars by telling his son in no uncertain terms to be quiet, and never, ever speak like that to an employee of his again. It hadn't helped matters, his father him telling him off in front of said employee. Alas, water under the bridge.

After closing the trunk with a soft 'click' I got in and quickly got us en-route to Greenwich. And as always, he was watching me. These days, it didn’t make me as nervous as it once did; I’d built this fence around myself regarding him. His stare, these days, did nothing. I ignored him, a trick I taught myself years ago. But I did notice his unwavering stare. It felt like he was imprinting me on his mind, every detail. He didn't say one word during the fifteen minute drive, not until we turned into the driveway to the house.

“Did he say anything? Before he....died?”

I glanced in the rear-view mirror, finding him staring back at me. The look in his light brown eyes was inscrutable. He was hard to read at any time, but he seemed to want to know.

“No sir. I wished him 'goodnight' yesterday, at 10pm, his usual time. I found him this morning, much as I had left him.”

He nodded absentmindedly, looking away, giving me a profile of his features. He'd lost weight since the last time I had seen him.

Gregory had, like both his brothers, inherited his mothers’ complexion, with the golden skin from her Greek side. He had the same height as his father which, at 6'3”, was the same as myself. Of the three, he was the tallest of them, and William matched Seth at 6’1. They were all slender in the hips, broad-shouldered and long-legged, had dark brown hair except Gregory’s, which was jet-black and wavy, another feature inherited from his mother. He wore it as if he raked his hands through it every other minute (though I never seen him do it), parted slightly on the left.
Seth wore his hair longer than the other two, down to the middle of his back, usually in a long tail, and was an earnest, serious guy, silent. As mentioned, he was an artist; he painted and wrote. William was the jet-set playboy of the trio and, by far, the most easygoing. Lively, never short a great smile, and partying 24/7. His hair, like mine, was a trimmed do, easy to maintain and do yourself (although his was probably done by a very expensive hairdresser with a name in the tabloids). I did mine myself. He was the only one who had inherited his dad’s bright blues. And he was smarter than many gave him credit for.

As for the occupant of the backseat; physically he wasn't particularly handsome by accepted standards of beauty but he wasn't unattractive. A hard, slender body, gaunt cheeks, strong jaw, sharp mouth with a slightly fuller lower lip, deep sunken eyes, hooked eyebrows of which one always seemed to be raised arrogantly. Only two things kept him from being elevated to handsome, I think; his nose, large but broken at least twice as far as I knew (fights in his younger years, resulting in a slight bump in the middle) and his teeth. While appearing white and strong, they were crooked and standing somewhat inward, like David Bowie, including the prominent incisors.

All of it added, though, to a real commanding presence. At first meeting he’d seem a good catch. But then he’d open his mouth and you’d turn tail pronto, if what came out was directed at you. If he were to ever get a personality bypass and some basic people skills, he'd be irresistible instead of menacing. But there was nothing soft about him. Not his character, nor his features. He was a crude, hard, colorless, humorless and impossible person. Brooding, watching, always watching. Something always boiled right beneath the surface; a rage, it seemed, barely kept inside. And when we were in the same space, that rage was always directed at me.

**********

The minute he stepped over the threshold, Gregory made his authority known by immediately beginning to order me around.

“I take it you've prepared our old rooms?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll be staying in my father's suite. Prepare it instead of my own.”

Of all the insensitive...I remained quiet, letting him know in that way I didn't think it appropriate. Not at all. Not that he’d care. He continued, ignoring my obvious reluctance.

“The study is right next to it, and has everything I’ll need for an extended stay: fax, computer, internet access, telephone. I assume I'll be here for several weeks to get his affairs in order.”

He'd actually already lost me at 'extended stay'. I groaned on the inside. Then I forced myself to answer, be it through gritted teeth.

“As you wish, sir.”

“I do. For now, I’d like to freshen up, before my brothers arrive. I'll use the bathroom in my old room. Have these cleaned tomorrow.”

He dumped the suit bags unceremoniously in my arms and went upstairs without another word. But halfway up, he stopped and turned, looking down at me.

“Oh…and when I come back down, and if my brothers haven’t arrived yet, I’d like a word with you about your future here…”

I swallowed.

“Sir?”

He continued without so much as an acknowledgement.

“…or rather, what is left of it. You’ll serve out the month. Then I want you gone.”

An unpleasant smile curled up around the sharp corners of his mouth while he waited for me to answer.
I stared up at him and it took me several long seconds to compose an answer that would be acceptable. All I could come up with was a soft, almost inaudible “Yes sir.”

**********

I was beyond myself with rage as I angrily dumped the suit bags on the bed in old Mr. Montgomery’s chambers, stalking back out to get the suitcases.

“That….that…” I softly sputtered to myself, grabbing them and dragging both with me. I was seeing through a red haze and couldn’t find a curse word suitable for him.

Somehow, my anger didn’t register the weight of the luggage; and they were heavy. I don’t think I could normally have carried them all together in one go. Now I did without so much as a groan, lifting them up and half throwing them onto the bed, right on top of the suit bags.

For several minutes I stared at the hated things. It took a long time before I moved, slowly calming to a more composed state of mind. Then, once the anger cleared and gave way for reasoning thought, I blew out a deep breath.

“Right,” I mumbled to myself. “Fine; this is not the end of the world. You’ve got savings now. You’ve got skills. You’ll get another job in no time. No more Montgomery’s to deal with. No more…

“No more.”

I said it out loud. Then I repeated it. And then an unthinkable act formed in my mind and reached for the closest suitcase, opening it...

**********

It took Gregory all of fifteen minutes to freshen up and come back down the stairs. He’d gotten rid of his jacket and tie; about as casual as he’d ever get. Too bad he hadn’t left them with me; they’d have ended up on the floor of the main hall, along with all his other clothes, nice and wet. All of them. Including three sets of expensive, Italian and very soaked leather shoes.

I looked up, just as he halted, an audible gasp coming from him.

“Sir?” I said, innocently.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” he shouted, furious.
I lifted the almost empty watering can, having finished my handiwork; not a dry piece of clothing in sight. Good.

I shrugged.

“You asked me to clean them. So I did.”

With my foot I selected a bright white shirt and dragged it over the floor. Never mind it had been waxed a few days before, the wax itself leaving nice dark marks on all the whites.

“Gives the floor a nice shine too! Two birds with one stone and all that…”

His jaws worked like crazy while he sought for words to spew at me. For a moment I thought he was going to blow the vein on the side of his head. When words obviously wouldn’t come to him, his gaze slowly descended, and shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he regarded the carnage.

“Pick it up. All of it.” The glare he sent me was downright venomous and his voice broke with anger, making it sound hoarse.

“Pick it up yourself.”

I fought the urge to add ‘sir’ to the reply. But I held my ground while he approached, sending an equally venomous stare back. When he stopped right in front of me I felt the fear right under the surface but pushed it deep down. His eyes burned, intensely, and there was something there that promised no good. No good at all. Hopefully, I sent daggers back the way they came, my fury having lost none of its potency just yet. But it was waning, fast. He wanted to do something to me. Something very, very bad. His lips slightly parted showing the white, sharp incisors like a wolf baring its fangs. I wanted to step back. I really did.

“You’re fired. Get out. NOW!”

I shook my head, swung the watering can close to his legs and tilted it, partly getting my earlier wish. And as I drenched his only remaining pair of dry paints, and hopefully last dry pair of Italian shoes, and registering the pure shock in his smoldering eyes, it felt good. It felt right.

“No. I quit.”

Then I calmly set the watering can on the floor and walked toward the stairs, to go get my things.

**********

When I came back down, carrying the bulk of my possessions stored in two large suitcases, Gregory sat hunched on his heels, carefully picking up a piece of soaking wet clothing. Then another. Any of the whites he picked up had dark stripes of dirt on it, dirt you wouldn’t normally register on a ‘clean’ floor.
It still felt right, and it still felt good.

He softly spoke when I walked past him. And there was the menacing voice. Low, threatening.

“You’ll pay for this.”
Reaching the front door, I opened it and turned, one last time. He still sat on his hunches, staring up at me, his anger radiating off of him in almost palpable levels.

“I don’t think so. Let’s call it payback for all the years of you treating me like a doormat.”
I smiled and bowed from the hip, a move I’d copied from Basil. Then I used the most pleasant tone I could muster.

“You are an absolute horror of a human being. This…this is how you’ve treated me all these years; like dirt. Oh…and you might want to pick another bed; I’m afraid I started there.”

And with that parting shot, I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, welcoming the finality of the soft click.