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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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The Butler - 7. Chapter VII

I won’t lie; during the wait for my test results, I became scared. Every itch suddenly became a source of fear, every cough a reason for worry. It was a time spent in reflection, thinking about the stupid things I had done in the last few months, and for what? If I added everything I had received for it, and I remembered every penny (which had been spent as fast as I’d received it), I didn’t even get to a figure that even remotely equaled the risk I had taken. It was a sobering time.

To take my mind off of those thoughts, I began to bug Basil, pelting him with questions about what the work would entail. At first he wasn’t too responsive but once I convinced him I was serious, that I really wanted this job and was prepared to go the distance for it, and that I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, he started to spill the beans; and I found out a great deal about Mr. Montgomery.

His wife had died some ten years ago, not long after his firstborn son, Charles, had lost his life in a horrible car crash. The death of both of them had hit him hard.

He had three other sons, Gregory Jr., Seth and William, but Charles had apparently been his favorite, by far. The second son, Jr, now led the family business, originally meant to be led by Charles. It had caused some strife between eldest and second, as well as between Sr. and Jr. because apparently, both were very stubborn and unbending, if they put their minds to it. The third son was nothing short of a full-fledged playboy and the youngest, Seth, was an artist, quite successful. But when I asked for more details, Basil remained mum.

As for Basil himself, I had to agree with Mr. Montgomery; he was a big stick in the mud. Tighter than a condom on a beach ball and British, through and through. I asked him what he was gonna do, after he left here and he answered that a ‘suitable position would present itself in no time, because ‘real’ butlers were (apparently) in demand’.

But he was kind enough to give me a few tips on how to serve people, how to hold a tray, how to receive guests, or answer the telephone (I tried with a British accent, copying him, but gave that up; fuck that). Small stuff, but helpful. Always address someone with two words (Yes Sir, yes M’am); he also told me Mr. Montgomery’s daily routine, which varied from day-to-day; what he preferred for breakfast, what time he got up, that sort of stuff. And he showed me how to handle his appointments. I was a little surprised it was done by computer. It seemed Mr. Montgomery was a senior surfer, then. Everything was logged into his calendar, online, accessible from anywhere in the world. And apparently the man travelled a LOT! Not only for business, which had dwindled down of late, but for pleasure as well. The old man frequented Hong Kong a lot, Europe as well, Australia was a twice-visited location yearly, and he owned property on every continent.

I followed Basil around the house, seeing what duties he filled his day with, until he grew tired of my constant hovering and told me, without getting rude, to get lost. And so I found myself wandering around the apartment, looking into empty guestrooms, dining rooms, salons, servant quarters, even closets. I imagined a small army to take care of the whole place but when I asked Basil, he informed me that they only had a maid come in, twice every week. No one else.

Resuming my self-tour, I ended up in the library again, it quickly having become my favorite room, where I frequently found Mr. Montgomery as well, and didn’t leave his company until it was time to turn in for the night.

Hours we spent in there, talking deep into the evening.

I spoke about how I had gone the way of rock bottom. That one wasn’t hard to admit; it had been my own fault. What was harder was the decision not to lie but be honest about it.

“I was in a steady relationship. Rob was a great guy, down to earth, thirty-five…we hit it off right from the start. We dated a while, things seemed to go well. I wasn’t really in love, but he did have what I was looking for. A real stud, big fuc…”
At that point, I found myself halting, when I realized what I’d been about to say, but Mr. Montgomery laughed loudly when I colored and encouraged me to keep talking.
“Well, I think you know what I mean. And at first that did it for me. He satisfied me, and I him. But after a few months, I found he didn’t have what it took for me to remain interested. I need…”
I cut off there. He really didn’t have to know my tastes are somewhat…out there. I wasn’t about to tell him rougher kinds of physical contact were my preference.

“A strong hand?” Mr. Montgomery supplied, thoughtfully regarding me. The man saw a lot and he was very perceptive.

“Sorta, yeah. And so I went out and found it elsewhere…I pissed in another pot.”
It made him laugh, and I colored.
In hindsight, I felt ashamed of how I’d behaved.

“You have a way with words, I’ll give you that, young man. Don’t change that, please. And did Rob find out about it? That you had an affair?”

“Not at first, no,” I answered, shaking my head. “He couldn’t find out because I was always very careful. And he had his routine, which made it pretty safe for me. I never met guys at home, always somewhere else. I made sure I returned home before he did, so he’d think I’d been there all day, making dinner, cleaning, and such. And I never invited them at home, of course; he was friendly with all his neighbors and any of them would tell on me if they found out.”

I took a sip from my tea.

“That went on for a little while. Then I met Randy, who was the kind of guy you start to take risks for, you know, even if you don’t want to? But I had no choice, I needed that and I did whatever he asked of me. I started staying a little longer when we were together. The ‘little’, over the course of a few weeks, became longer and longer, until one afternoon, in some hotel, I fell asleep and didn’t get home before Rob. When I finally did, he was waiting for me, worried sick. He’d been thinking something had happened.”

I swallowed the last of my tea and set the cup on the table beside my chair.

“I’m a bad liar. I can’t, for some reason; people always notice. But I tried to lie my way out of it.”

“The trouble with lies is you always have to use additional lies to back it all up.”

“Exactly. And I’m the kind of guy who gets lost pretty easy that way, not seeing the forest through the trees, that kind of…you know?”

Mr. Montgomery nodded.

“So, in the end, I blurted it out.”

“What happened then?”

“He asked me to leave, very calmly, very composed. He even gave me some money, because I had no work, no income. So I packed my things and left.”

I paused there, to collect my thoughts.

“I never saw him again. Of course I went to Randy.”

“Of course.”

I grinned sourly.

“Being with him was hectic. I didn’t know what he did for a living, but he had loads of money to spare, and a nice apartment, so I never questioned it. I was there for…hmm, I think it was three weeks? Then the police showed up. That was a bad, bad night; I still can’t remember everything that happened, because it happened all at once. One minute we’re asleep, the next cops are bursting down the door, shouting, yelling; it was crazy. They arrested him and took him away. The next day I found out he was a professional thief.”

“Oh my.”

“Long story short; I was out on the street, and he was convicted. He’s doing a twenty-year stint at Attica.”

“Lovely,” Mr. Montgomery commented, slowly shaking his head. “And then what happened?”

“Well, I did have a little money left from what Rob had given me and what Randy had given me, so I found a cheap place to stay, trying to find a job. Then, one night, I walked back home after another fruitless day of job hunting, and, much like you did, a car pulled up next to me, and the guy asked ‘how much?’. For the fun of it, I said $100, and my new career was born in the backseat of that car, that very same night.”

I sighed deeply.

“That’s a sad story, son. But that’s all over now.”

I made a face at him and lifted my empty teacup.

“I still haven’t heard from that doc you sent me to. So here’s to hoping you’re right.”

**********

Two days later we found out he was.

Edited: 03/29/2018
Copyright © 2018 Andr0gene; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Chapter Comments

I like that Chris is honest with his new employer and I think Mr M. appreciates it as well. Basil is a nice butler caricature. :lol: 

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Mr Montgomery is often right , it seems. It’s becoming clearer and clearer why Basil couldn’t possibly be a good fit, Mr Montgomery doesn’t fit into a box . 

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9 hours ago, deville said:

Mr Montgomery is often right , it seems. It’s becoming clearer and clearer why Basil couldn’t possibly be a good fit, Mr Montgomery doesn’t fit into a box . 

 

Mr. Montgomery is rather lonely, and looking for a combination of friendship and employee. Which can go either very bad or very good. Basil doesn't fit the description. ;) 

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I am glad that Chris was honest about all of that; I sort of imagine that Gregory Sr. has already had him checked out and knew most of it already.  Most people don't understand how close to a life on the street so many are.  A lost job or a huge bill that can't be paid and it can all snowball so quickly.

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19 minutes ago, centexhairysub said:

I am glad that Chris was honest about all of that; I sort of imagine that Gregory Sr. has already had him checked out and knew most of it already.  Most people don't understand how close to a life on the street so many are.  A lost job or a huge bill that can't be paid and it can all snowball so quickly.

 

Ah, he didn't, though. Mr. Montgomery, I mean. Didn't have him checked out. 

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