The Butler - 10. Chapter X

We drove back to the estate in silence. It was a short drive, but nonetheless uncomfortable; at times I caught Gregory’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He was watching me with this strange, puzzled look, intently, like he was looking for something and couldn’t see or find it. I was glad when he parked the car in front of the house and got out; the silence was getting very uncomfortable, as was his staring, and it was very strange to be the one who was driven, after spending years chauffeuring old Mr. Montgomery.

I automatically went to the trunk to get my things but Gregory was already there, unloading them.

“I’ve got it,” he said, neutrally, putting the last of the suitcases on the ground and then closing the lid.

“I can do my ow…” I began, but he picked up the suitcase and headed for the front door.

“I said I’ve got it. Go inside.”
Still trying to order me about.

Following him inside, I closed the door behind me. The first thing I noticed was the floor; it was shining like new. William saw that and he smirked, bending close to my ear.

“He mopped the whole floor; three times. He put way too much soap in the water the first two times; it was like an ice rink in here.”

Somehow, the image of Gregory mopping the floors brought a grin to my own face, and I looked after him, as he ascended the stairs. Prick. Some menial work would be good for that bastard.

Quickly following him up, he brought the suitcases to my room. And there I noticed several things; my bed had been slept in and there were wrinkled clothes hanging on every doorknob, doorpost and nail (some of the paintings had been taken down). The clothes were streaked like they’d lain in a puddle of mud, taken out and hung to dry.

He saw my frown and set the suitcases down by the door. Then he nodded at the room in general.

“Admiring your handiwork?”
He regarded me with a hard look. And promise for revenge.
“I want to say something to you,” he then said, the tone of his voice even, controlled. He let the silence hang for a little.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say,” I answered, not even bothering with a ‘Sir’. I was done. I’d already said I wasn’t going to be ordered about by him. Picking up the suitcases, I stepped further into my room, only to be stopped by his hand roughly clamping down on my arm, tight.

“You’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“Fuck you. I don’t have to do anything. I’m here at the request of your brothers, not yours. I don’t have to listen to you. Not anymore.”
In answer, his hand squeezed tighter and he brought his mouth close to my ear, his voice soft so none one could overhear.

“Mind your tongue; that word flies from your mouth too easily and too often. You would do well to remember you're now in my house. The rules have changed. You’ll address me appropriately, and you will never turn your back on me again, unless you’re dismissed. Do you understand?”
When I didn’t respond, he squeezed even harder. Jesus!
“Do you understand?”

“Let go of me,” I hissed.
And he managed to tighten his grip even more. I groaned out in pain. Motherf…

“Don’t forget what you are, Mr. McAllister. You’re nothing more than a fucking whore.”
I inhaled sharply, stiffening. Fuck! He knew?
“Oh yes, I know. So you see; you will do exactly as I say, or I’ll make sure those two idiots downstairs find out exactly what has been serving them their meals. A lowlife, fucked by other lowlives while living on the street. Two can use that word. Fuck."
He drew out the word and repeated it a few times.
"I've a mind to put it to actual practice, right here. Shall I? A good, hard fuck? I don't think you'll enjoy it, you're not ready for someone like me, but I sure as hell would enjoy pounding you. You would know your place.”

Pushing his hips forward, he rubbed against me to get his point across. Then he let go of my arm and gestured at the room in general.

“Clean up your handiwork. I’ve worn this shirt for two days and I’d like to change. Have something other to wear in my room, before dinner, and serve lunch early.”

“Yes sir,” I replied, softly. It was the only thing I could say, at that point; my mind was still reeling. He knew!? HOW?

God, I wished I’d never agreed to the request of his brothers. I felt cold all over, my hands shook and I wanted to hug myself so as to not show it to him.

“Good boy,” he said, sarcastically. “See? You can do as you’re told. You just need incentive. And rules.”
And at that, he finally left. The door slammed behind me and I unwittingly perked up from the sound of it.

Christ.

What had I come back to...

**********

It took a good ten minutes for me to calm down enough to even step further into my room. It was deadly quiet now, and I inhaled deeply, blowing out a shaky breath. I felt sick.

“You’re nothing more than a fucking whore.”

His words echoed in my head. How on earth had he found out about my past? Old Mr. Montgomery had assured me he would not disclose that information to anyone. Had he told his eldest son?
I felt betrayed for a second, but then resolutely dismissed the idea. He’d never have done that. Never. Mr. Montgomery had had more soul in his little finger than his eldest had in his entire body. He’d never have broken that promise.

“Fuck,” I softly breathed out. “Fuck!”

If he knew that, he knew everything. I groaned softly. This was not good. What the fuck was I gonna do?

Shaking my head, I first stored my own clothes back into their proper closets. Then I went to work on the wet-works that were Gregory’s wardrobe, sorting them. If I didn’t do as he said, he’d make good on his promise. And he'd do it; when he'd rubbed against me, he'd been very hard. It was indeed incentive enough to do as he'd said.

Unfortunately, most of his shirts were ruined, marked with dark stripes of floor-wax. I feared even if they were cleaned professionally, which I planned to go have done, it wouldn’t go out, ever again. Only one seemed to have survived, until I found the collar had an ugly dark grey stripe as well. But I had to try, so I put them all in a bag. All his shoes were beyond repair. He’d set them too close to the fire, to dry; the leather had shriveled.

Sighing, I put it all together, planning to go and do that this very afternoon. For now though…

I looked at my watch and found, much to my surprise, it was close to 11:30am.

**********

I served them lunch early, as Gregory had ordered, and both Seth and William were very thankful for it.

“Thanks, Chris, I could eat a horse,” William said, squeezing my arm. The bad one.
I hissed softly but he luckily didn’t notice.

Gregory did.

When I looked up, I saw him frown, first looking at my arm and then his hand, resting on the table.
His jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbed as he balled his fist, but he didn’t say a word. Not even a thank you when he was served.