“What's past is prologue.”

Located on the River Thames, London has been a major settlement for two millennia. The low-income borough of Lambeth has been largely taken over by London's mutant population and is now known as Mutant Town.

“What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Fri Sep 15, 2017 2:13 am

198X

~Dark in the city, night is a wire, Steam in the subway, earth is a fire~

It was a magical place, to be certain. Hellbent on staying tragically hip, the disco era vibe that was still popular in some parts of the country and mainland Europe was ditched at the first signs of new wave. The place swam with girls of all shapes and sizes, all pleasing to the eye in their own respects. Even the boys were pretty, but they weren't quite his bag. Not that it bothered him of course, to each their own. It was letting them down that hurt him the most, and them too.

But right now he didn't feel like dwelling on crushing hearts. He was out to charm some. After washing his hands he inspected himself in the bathroom mirror, making sure his quiff was properly primped again. He ran his hand over his designer stubble to make sure it was all going in the same direction and adjusted his Union Jack sport coat with the most ostentacious shoulder pads. He placed on his Raybans and gave himself one more look before joining the party out on the floor.
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Sat Sep 16, 2017 2:32 am

~Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme~

Billie was standing right there as he exited the bathroom, waiting for him. He barely got him to leave the bathroom just to let him piss on his own. Billie was only supposed to keep him safe, but having the older man around was a lot like having his dad as his wing man.

"Keep the distance we agreed upon William." He chided, reminding him of his position as a family employee. When he didn't, Billie got too 'kid with no friends' for his liking.

Like always, he was turning heads with his mere presence. He knew he had his pick of any of the faces turned his way now, it was just a matter of choosing. But none of those assembled visages staring at him proved of interest, so his eyes began glancing around at the club in general.

There at the bar was a woman in a black velvet mini dress who seemingly had no interest in him, currently more interested in playing with her short, wavy hair and her drink than to pay him any attention.

Why aren't you looking at me? Look up. He thought to himself, and after a moment, she did. Her eyes were light blue, her lipstick a bold shade of red. She smirked at him, then looked away.

Her lack of interest only made her more interesting.
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Sun Sep 17, 2017 3:33 am

His opening line didn't matter. He could start with how beautiful her eyes were, or how well the dress she was wearing fit her, or just go in quoting the stock abbreviations of the top ten performers on the LSE, she'd be naturally impressed. He never knew why that was, it just was. All in all, life had been pretty easy for him, but that's the way it was when you were born into his life he supposed.

After a short exchange of pleasantries, they were already drinking together. He enjoyed her style. Dark, but tasteful, like some of the Batcave girls. Here though he didn't have to contend with those God awful punk boys.

But as quickly as the drinks were empty, she was walking away.

~When your world is full of strange arrangements, and gravity won't pull you through.
You know you're missing out on something. Well that something depends on you.~


"Hey!" He replied, feeling a little put out. Women rarely rejected him, and this one wasn't even bothering to tell him goodbye or give him some kind of blow off excuse.
"You're leaving already?"

"The drink is gone and your conversation is boring."

"Wow. Tough crowd eh? You always this harsh on blokes trying to impress you?"

"No, just the ones who fail to."

"You gave me fifteen whole minutes."

"In my experience, that's all one needs."

"Soooo, am i going to be given a second chance?"

"If you're a very good boy, perhaps you will again later. Goodbye."

"OI! A name at least?!"

"Jessica Stolarz."

She walked off to talk to some girlfriends and he continued to watch her, if only because he was so goddamn confused about what had just happened. It certainly had never happened before. Her and her girlfriends kept looking at him over and over again, and somehow he got the impression he definitely would be given a second chance at some point.

For now though, he'd have to find some other pretty lady to chat up.
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Tue Jan 23, 2018 4:38 am

198Y

"Hey! Hey!" He heard a girl call after him as he passed. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her. "I want you to meet my friend!"

He sighed. He wasn't much in the mood for meeting any new girls tonight. He was mostly just out here because he was trying to avoid William and his incessantly worried nature and wasn't sure what else to do with himself but come here, like he had been for years. but before he had a chance to protest he was being pulled away from the bar and to a table of women out for the night.

"Ladies." He replied. He introduced himself but if they heard him over the music, who knew. Across the table was a familiar face, one who'd been bilking him for drinks then dodging him for awhile now. He'd come to find it amusing how exactly she managed to trick him into paying her way every time they crossed paths. Most nights he'd be up for the game of cat and mouse they'd developed over the last three years, but he wasn't in the mood for it on this particular night.
The accoster (who he knew as Patricia) pulled him closer to a familiar face and said " Hey! This is who I wanted you to meet, this is-"

"Jessica Stolarz." He interrupted. "We've met."

He heard the start up of an excuse start up on the overhead. "Excuse me ladies, this is my song."

"Hey! Wait!" A voice called after him, but he ignored it, moving out onto the dance floor solo, never bothered by having to dance alone if need be.

"Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancin', you know it baby-"

But once he got to moving out on the floor he realized he wasn't alone at all. She stumbled out there with him and sloppily tried to move along. After a moment she nearly fell, but he caught her in his arms, and covered for her by allowing her to dance with him.

"You're drunk Jessica... and not on my dime, for once." He chuckled.

She laughed in his face, the smell of gin so thick she could have cleaned floors with her breath. "Well yeah, when you didn't show up I had to dupe some other prat into covering my night. and he was waaaaaaay more generous than you."

"I buy you drinks because I find it amusing, not because I want to see you drunk. That's why I only buy you the first few. I'll leave it to the other poor saps to clean up your sick."

"I don't get sick." She replied in an offended tone as her arms found their way around his neck.

He put his arms around her waist to steady her as they danced. As he did, he saw a very mousy looking man who he'd normally classify as a milquetoast, if it weren't for the hideously stern scowl on his face. He didn't know what bug had crawled up his ass, but he could speculate that he was the man Jessica had gotten a free ride from this evening. The unhappy man only caused him to hold that much tighter.

----

She woke up in an unfamiliar place and immediately the panic set in. At the moment she was alone, and she was still in the clothes she was wearing the night before, so those were good signs... right?

Kicking off the covers, she stood and looked around the room to see if there was anything she recognized, but there wasn't. She went to the window and looked outside to see if she recognized the area.

Chelsea maybe? The cleanliness of the neighborhood suggested it. She leant into the glass and saw other windows and patios... so she must have been in someone's flat. After a large breath, she plucked up the nerve to open the bedroom door and meet whomever she went home with that night.

Once she saw who it was things started falling into place. He was sitting at the counter in a small kitchen, writing something down.

"Good morning."

"Mornin'." He replied, barely looking up at her.
" Do you know where my bag is? Did I leave it at the club?"
He motioned with his free hand, his right, towards a couch, undeterred from whatever it was he was writing down.

She collected her purse and asked where the bathroom was and was given another quick distracted hand gesture.

She went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up as best she could with the things in her purse, returning back to his main room to find him... still writing and ignoring her. It was enough to finally get her to snap.

"Do you always ignore girls you take home from the bar and fuck or am I just special?!" She snapped. To make her point, she picked up the closest object she saw which was a translucent phone, ripping it free of the cord in the process. She miscalculated and the object wasn't something that would break, instead it left a dent in the drywall next to one of many same-y prints around the apartment.


"Oi! What the fuck Jessica?! That's a signed original Nagel! He's dead now, that's only going to go up in value!"

It seemed like his possessions weren't yet off the list for destruction as Jessica picked up the next thing within reach, but he already saw her going for it and stood up to stop her.

"Stop breaking my shit!"
"Stop ignoring me after we had sex!"
"We didn't have sex!"

Jessica furrowed her brow, her arm slowly falling from the throw position. "... We didn't?"
"No! Jesus! You got drunk, you wouldn't leave me alone. Whatever guy got you three sheets wouldn't leave you alone, so I brought you here. I let you sleep in the bed and I slept on my couch.

Actually, I made William sleep on the couch and I took his bed. Not really important though."

Feeling awkward now, Jessica slowly put the crystal seashell back where she found it, and stared at the ground quietly like a scolded child.

He sighed and checked the wall dent, then let it go and went back to his writing.

Jessica made herself at home and started the kettle. Once she recollected her nerve, she folded her arms over her chest and leant into his counter, watching him write.

"What are you writing about?"

"What an entitled little brat you are."
She scoffed. "Like you're any better. I know all about you, you know. I know what you are."
This caused him to pause just for a moment and look at Jessica like she had pissed in his Weetabix. "Do you now?"
"Yes.

I know your family is posh. Proper aristocrats even... But you're the blacksheep. I don't know what you did, but I know you did something."

"...I didn't do anything except be myself."
"... Well... You are kind of a shit."
"Ha-ha." He stated in monotone and went back to ignoring her.

She made herself at home and started looking through the cupboards for mugs and tea. When she found what she wanted she made sure to prep two cups, then asked-

"Where is WIlliam?"

"Out getting us breakfast. He should be back soon."
"Should I make him a cuppa?"
"Might as well."

She sighed again audibly. This was almost more awkward knowing they didn't sleep together. If they had, she could have stormed out of her justifiably angry. Now though, she felt like she owed him some form of nicity.

"... So what are you writing about?" She asked again.

"It's my journal. "
"... You write a lot?"
"Every morning, while William is figuring out break-y."
"... Anything about me in there?"
He looked up mischievously. " I already told you, I wrote down what a brat you are. Don't worry Jessica, you've been immortalized in my memoirs. I'll make sure someone suitably horrid plays you in the made for TV version."
"Oh, well, Cheers then." she replies sarcastically.
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Sun Jan 27, 2019 4:10 pm

198Z

He couldn't believe this. He'd gotten up too late, and in the scatter to make it to the party on time he'd left his present sitting in the top of his closet. Now he was going to be late for that as well.

"Should I park?"

"No, keep it running. I'll be back in a flash William. Don't want to keep gran waiting around. Old bird might slip from the mortal coil before we get there."

Jumping out of the vehicle, he practically skipped his way into the house with his long strides, only to find the front door unlocked. It was curious but he didn't have a lot of time to think on it. He bee-lined his way into the bedroom to grab the wrapped gift to find Jessica...

And another man who's trousers were not to be found.

Oh, there they were... draped over the chair he used to put his shoes on in the morning.

"Edmond!"

As Edmond stood in the doorway he heard his name being called, but he couldn't focus as the stranger quickly collected himself to make himself decent. Was it a stranger? He seemed familiar somehow... A petty little man who was good with numbers.

"...George Benson...?

You're bedding my banker..." He realizes aloud for no one but himself.

George was busying himself to put his trousers back on, and avoiding looking at Edmond at all. Eventually though once he had collected his things, he was forced to face the other man.

"Mr. Spencer." He addressed Edmond, bowing his head politely.


"Have the decency to look me in the eye!" Edmond snapped.

"Don't!"

Jessica's warning came too late for George, who had already tilted his head upward to glare at Edmond defiantly. Giving him an opening by looking at Edmond, it was now the only thing George could do. His brown eyes were transfixed on Edmond's own hazel ones.

Unblinking, Edmond considered what to do now that he'd had George where he wanted him.

"Don't hurt him Edmond. He isn't worth it."

"....You weren't thinking that five minutes ago." Edmond replied, he moved out of the doorway, then addressed George without breaking eye contact.

"Leave, and never come back here again." He commanded, then blinked, leaving George to get himself out of this situation.

Now free of whatever strange hold Edmond had over him, George scrambled for purchase to get around Edmond in the doorway.

During which, Edmond deliberately stood his ground for several moments, just to remind him of what could have happened, and who had the control here. Once he was certain George felt it too, he let the other man retreat. Edmond didn't follow after him to ensure his commands were followed, he didn't need to. Instead, he turned away to the closet, plucking the first of Jessica's items he saw off a hanger and throwing it at Jessica. " Cover up, please."

Jessica stared at the item and very deliberately ignored the request. "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?! You're banging the man who keeps track of my personal finances! He's not even attractive! His face is so sour he looks like the physical embodiment of a lemon!"

"Of course you'd think that his looks are the only reason I'd have interest in him."

"What other possible explanation could you have for this?!"

Jessica reached for the dress laid out for her on the end of the bed to cover herself. "I'm bored Edmond.

You lock yourself up in this flat for days to weeks on end because of your illness. Had I known that at the start of all this you'd turn into a reclusive shut in the moment you found someone to shut yourself in with, I never would have gotten involved with you in the first place.

And as a result, you keep me locked up in here like a 1950s housewife. And you know I'm shit at domestics. I can't be expected to sit in here with you and entertain you forever just because you're a freak."


"I'm not the only freak under this roof and you know it. Why are you the only person I've met who doesn't have to listen Jessica?"

"Please, not this nonsense again Edmond. I'm sick of having this conversation with you." She commented, lighting a cigarette now that she was dressed.

Edmond ruminated on the issue, before going back into the closet to grab the item he'd returned for, the present for his grandmother's birthday. It seemed a cosmic joke now that a present for a party she didn't want to go to was what brought him back, considering her complaints.

"Fine. You don't want to stay with me now that you've found a more viable meal ticket then that's just fine. I'll send someone around for my things." He replied, making his way back out again. He really didn't want to go to grans anymore, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"You are such a drama-queen." She commented as he left.

"I'll see you soon."

She didn't.
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Sun Jan 12, 2020 4:55 pm

As it turns out, Gran was a regular miracle of medical science and lasted over a decade longer than Edmond had anticipated. But her card was eventually punched just like anyone's, and now Edmond was summoned home to attend the funeral. An unusual turn of events to be certain, considering the family rarely so much as sent him a Christmas card. He wondered if perhaps it was some inheritance stipulation, or merely aristocratic order maintained in him being invited.

But why was he even here? None of these people wanted him here. Funerals weren't for the dead, they're for the living, and the only person who'd care to see him was currently filling the box. Now he was stuck in a reception filled with tiny foods pretending as if these people cared, hiding out on the patio alone from all his 'normal' relatives and drinking a gin and tonic.

He couldn't say he wasn't saddened by Gran's death, but she was ancient. During his last few visits she didn't even know who he was anymore. It was better this way really. These thoughts kept him from crying, but they didn't exactly lift his spirits either.


"Stiff upper lip, Edmond. Grandmother Spencer wouldn't want you so down." She commented, perching herself on the arm of the heavy wooden deck chair he sat in, gracefully folding one ankle over the other.

Edmond choked on his gin at the sound of her voice, but he was very pointed in not looking at her, and kept his eyes obscured by his shades.

"If you can't handle your drink I can finish that for you."

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" He spat out at the empty space in front of him.


"Your mother invited me."

"... Of course she did." He reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of smokes. "So... How's life?"

"Pretty good."

"How's George?" He asked, pulling a cigarette from the package between his lips.

"Fine."

"And the apartment?" He asked, starting up the lighter.


"Sold."

Before he could put a spark to his nicotine vice, he was thrown off by the response. "... You loved that apartment."

"And you commanded George to stay away from it. He couldn't place a foot on the step without breaking down crying."


Unable to contain his amusement, his face burst out into a malicious smile, nearly losing his cigarette in the process. "... Good."

She laughed despite herself. " Not when you're trying to consummate a marriage."

He lit his cigarette, and snapped the lighter closed. "Well, that sounds like a right tickler of a problem. Hope you get that sorted out Love."

"Oh we have. We've since purchased a nice little place in Kensington. Large enough for guests, but small enough I only need one housekeeper to mind it for me. It's close to the park, shopping, not too far away from the nightlife... "


"Sounds like everything you've ever wanted." He interjected, not wanting to continue to listen to this. "Cheers to you."

"It isn't."

The silence between them pregnant with questions, Edmond let the rational, cold response be the one that surfaced. "I suspect that is no one's fault but your own."

"Are you going to offer a lady a cigarette or will I have to accost you for them?" She asked.

Edmond relented, handing her the pack and the lighter, keeping his gaze away.


"What about you Edmond?" She asked as she busied her hands with the process of starting up a smoke. "What have you been doing with all the hours,days,years since I've been gone?"

Edmond stared nothing at all down defiantly, like the air itself offended him.


"Have you a girlfriend?"

"No." He replied in honesty, though he didn't know why. He stared at his cigarette now, tapping his finger on the arm of the deck chair. "Truth is, I haven't had a steady since you."

"Awwwww. How childishly adorable."

"Oh sorry. It's been so long, I had forgotten how ridiculous you find the concept of love. Forget I said that. "

"Well, it's not just that. The Edmond I knew wouldn't let a little thing like a girl breaking his heart stop him from hitting on anything with a pulse. Even things he wasn't interested in."

"Yes, I was quite the randy little sod when I was younger, wasn't I?"

"So what happened? I broke your blood pump and the pleasure pump followed suite?"

"Jesus Jessica..." He laughed back. This shouldn't feel so normal, so casual. He should get up and leave.

He didn't.


"What? You know I like torturing you. If I can't get the details about how much it hurt you, I can't get my end off."

"Preeettyyy sure you can't do that anyways."

"Come on then. I want to hear about all the adventures you've been on without me."

"There aren't any." He admitted, extinguishing his cigarette, and washing the taste of it from his mouth with his gin.

"I stay in these days. When I'm lonely, I hop onto some dirty little corner of the web and find an agreeable lady, and we discuss terms digitally so I have assurances that what I can do isn't causing her to be agreeable. Then, we meet in some seedy little place or another and act as agreed upon. When the deed is done, I wire her the funds.

It's all very professional."


"And transactional."

"Like what we had wasn't?"
"It wasn't for you."
Edmond sighed, continuing to stare off at something that wasn't there in an attempt to stay course.
"... When's the last time you... made a transaction?"
"Not your business."
"It used to be... Perhaps it could be again."
"You're married to George Benson. Or did you forget?"
"He bores me."
"As does every man in England it seems. Eventually."
"Not you."
"Edmond laughed again, this time out of frustration. " You literally told me ' I'm bored Edmond' as the excuse to why you slept with him in the first place. These statements are completely contradictory. Doesn't that sound mental to you?" He asked, finally turning to look at her from behind his shades.

"I hate routine Edmond. You forced me into a routine... but transactions with you were never the boring part."


"What is it you're angling for Jessica? I can't tell so you'll have to spell it out for me."

Jessica reached out slowly to slip his shades off his face to lock eyes with him. Once she knew she had his attention, she leant in and kissed him as deeply as he allowed.

And he allowed her to take as much as she wanted. After a few moments, he found himself reciprocating until she broke away from him .
"I had forgotten how gorgeous your eyes are." She commented, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Edmond licked at his own lips to dry them.

"Ahhh, I see.... you want to make transactions behind the banker's back instead of mine."


"Now and again. Nothing too routine. "


"Oh of course. We wouldn't want you to get bored.

And what do I get out of it? Plenty of women will do the same if I pay them appropriately."


"You wouldn't have to pay me anything but the pleasure of your company... and let's be honest Edmond." Jessica began playing with Edmond's tie, petting her fingers down the length of it. She leant closer to whisper into his ear.

"How many of those agreeable ladies know how to make you shiver?"
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Tue Feb 04, 2020 4:05 am

The agreement became so second nature and comfortable, after awhile it didn't even feel like they were doing anything wrong anymore. Surely, after this many years George Benson had to know. He wasn't an idiot. They'd become practically inseparable from each other. Where-ever she went, he would follow, no matter how private or public the event. He'd been on her arm at parties, in the seat next to her at charity dinners and fundraisers, and sat in for George at family gatherings that George found to be too 'personal'. He was even the one applying the sun lotion on seaside holidays.

Without the trappings of title or even a full name provided, no one seemed to know who he was. In the rare situation where he was forced to identify himself on some level, the connections that should have been made weren't. People simply presumed him to be her personal assistant, bodyguard, or very weird, very quiet friend who didn't like to take off his sunglasses. People didn't ask a lot of questions about who he was, because that implied to question Jessica herself, and no one was foolish enough to question Jessica Benson.

For example, today he questioned himself why today's meeting spot was so... pedestrian, but he never questioned a summons. When she called, he arrived. Sliding into the booth casually, he sat across from her in a dark green dress shirt, a pair of classic Raybans, and distressed jeans, trying his best at looking casual.

"Well. This place is delightfully cheeky and low rent. What's the plan? I stuff you with cheeso rings, then we shag in the backseat of George's weird pre-midlife crisis?"


"Shut the fuck up Edmond."

"Whoa-okay. Aggressively precoital of you. Something wrong?"

"... Yes."

"...You know you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you right? I know you're just in it for my awesome body and filthy mouth and everything but.. you know....

I care."


"...Yes I know... It's your best quality. Perhaps your only good one." Jessica replied, not really answering the question.

"... So are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I just going to need to drop off by a Boots for more ice packs and tiger balm?"

"I'm pregnant."

Edmond froze like a deer in the headlights. He didn't even think to question whether or not he'd done it. Who else would be responsible? Certainly not George Benson. That would require intimacy on his part, something he'd seemingly only been capable of mustering enough of to get Jessica into a binding contract.

Edmond stared at her blankly for several moments, trying to think of a response. *Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck me."


"I rather think that's what lead to this problem, don't you?"

"Point taken. Maybe this is one of those situations where if you just keep doing it enough the problem will correct itself?" He quipped.

"Could you stop being sarcastic for five bloody minutes?!" She burst out, bringing the comings and goings of the establishment to a halt.

Edmond tapped his fingers on the Formica table impatiently, then stood up abruptly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

He stopped, and turned to look at her.

"Me? I'm going to get a Brown Derby, because this is a much deeper conversation than I was expecting to hold on a Thursday in a Wimpy Burger.

You want one?"
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 

Re: “What's past is prologue.”

Postby Narrator » Tue Sep 08, 2020 3:03 pm

"Mr. Spencer?" Called out a pleasant, feminine Essex accent. "Mr.Benson will see you now."

"Thank you love." Edmond commented, slipping his copy of Bizarre back into his fancy leather satchel and making his way into the office she escorted him into. He made certain not to make eye contact with her, even though it seemed she was trying very hard to get him to take his sunglasses off indoors, even going so far at one point to offer to take them along with his jacket and his bag.

He declined.

As he came into George's office, the other man pointedly did not look at him, and Edmond didn't blame him really. But he also didn't greet Edmond as he stared out his office window, his arms folded behind his back.

After several awkward moments, Edmond finally gave under the pressure.

"You know why I'm here don't you?"


"Of course Mr.Spencer. You're here to discuss the fact your near constant shagging of my wife has put her in a sticky situation."

"I'll take her and I'll raise her. She's my responsibility. No one will have to know."

After a long pause, George responds. "Her?"

"The child. Him or her." Edmond clarified, trying to hide his wishful thinking. Wasn't like Benson gave two shits on his preferences, he wasn't sure why it slipped.

"We can do this all very Victorian like.

I own a private island in the south of Japan, willed to me by my father. Admittedly, the Ryukyu arc isn't exactly what one thinks of when exclusive vacation villas come to mind, but that's exactly why she would go unnoticed there. I'll get her a bilingual assistant, Jessica goes off on an extended holiday and comes back a year later with a radiant tan and a tertiary language.

And nothing else.

I'll even give you the island. You two could sell it. Maybe even back to the Japanese government. Not sure how my father got the damn thing in the first place." Edmond added, trying to think of something of monetary interest that might be traded for the child.


"You know that won't work. Jessica wants to keep it, and since it's in her body, she has a right to do so.

You can start a custody battle, but you'll lose. With your ongoing reputation and the stability I can provide with Jessica, no court is going to grant you custody of your child, regardless of how many genetics you might share.

To say nothing of the fact you may have shared some less than favourable ones. Doesn't the gene follow the father?

That's what I've heard anyways."


Edmond sighed, frustrated with George already. Less than ten minutes, a new record.

"So what do you suggest we do?"


"I'm less interested in any physical property you'd be willing to trade and more interested in your title."

"I can't trade a genetically inherited title, mate. If I could, I would have gotten rid of it already."

"You can trade your seat on The Board to anyone you desire. And you aren't even using it, so you won't miss it."

Edmond paused for a moment before replying- " What board?"

"Don't play coy with me Spencer. We're well past that point."

Edmond sat quietly, unsure of how to respond in this situation. How did George Benson know about any of this? Had he been planning it the whole time? Is that why he got so close to him before? In hopes of winning Edmond's favour and garnering a seat?

Aware Edmond was thinking on something and assuming it was his offer, George continued.

"I'll pretend the child is my own for propriety's sake and allow you to visit whenever you wish to. You and Jessica can continue on as before, provided there aren't any other mishaps and the boy doesn't catch onto the reality of the situation.

In return, you give me your seat on The Board."


"... And if I tell you to go fuck yourself? What then?"

"You won't... But please, take however long you need to convince yourself you came to that decision on your own."

"Sez you. Sod off, you perpetual remora. I stopped feeding you years ago, and I'm not about to let you latch onto me again."

"If you didn't want to open that door again, you probably should have considered that before you started fucking my wife."

"She was fucking me first!"

"Ah, but she married me."

A brief knock on the door was followed by a rushed inquiry. "Is everything alright Mr.Benson?"

"Yes. Come in Ms. Evans. Mr.Spencer was just leaving."

As she opened the door, Edmond pressed his way past, storming out of the office in a huff.

Ms.Evans shut the door behind her.

"Ms.Evans, tell Richie he may proceed."

"... Yes Sir Mr.Benson."
User avatar
Narrator
Site Admin
 



Topic attributes:

Return to London

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests

cron