Mansion
ver.
“…In conclusion,” the lawyer said, his gray eyes scanning around the room as he held the old, worn-out piece of paper, stained with a few drips of coffee from long ago on the right corner. The rest of the paper was pristine, free of stains and hurts; just filled with money and promises and memories. “I leave Armand House and all its possessions to my niece and nephew, Versailles and Luc Armand.”
At that, those who were named Luc and Versailles were glared at by the distant family members that were scattered about the large office. Heat and daggers emitted from their dark eyes as they blew ghosts into each other’s ears; they wanted Armand house, they deserved Armand House, they needed Armand House. But they didn’t deserve it, those two. Armand house – left to two eighteen year old children, just graduated from high school, already rich from the previous wills of their parents and their uncle, and now they had to receive the mansion as well. Old Uncle Armand must’ve been a senile old fool to make such a dumb decision. What the hell was he on when he talked to that idiot lawyer?
Versailles’s green eyes immediately went to her brother’s for comfort, but she didn’t even know why she was looking to him; he didn’t decide this. It was Uncle Armand’s decision. He gazed at her with the same green eyes, confused, when she said, “Oh, merde.”
The various family members continued to shoot daggers at the girl as they swiveled around in their chairs to look at her reaction – maybe they were hoping that she’d raise her skinny little hand and object to the matter, leaving it, Armand House and all, to grandma whoever, grandpa what, auntie whatever. A grandfather in the corner coughed loudly.
“Ver,” her brother whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe it.”
Ignoring him and the others whom were glaring at her, Ver raised her gloved hand up, holding her breath. Do or die, Ver. What can they do? The house is yours. Damn them all…
“Mr. Sher, when can we move in?” Ver asked, immediately putting her hand down. She didn’t realized how small and meager her voice sounded, till she heard the half-satisfied snickers from her family. Still, they wished that both would back out of it; however, uncle Armand’s plans were going quite against the grain, which they didn’t like. Two cousins situated in the back of the room snorted and left. Luc and Ver could hear them huffing and puffing and chugging in the hall as they exited.
“Now,” Luc said almost silently next to her.
Mr. Sher blinked at them, took off his glasses, and cleaned them off with a silk rag from his pocket as he said, “Miss and Mr. Armand, the house is yours as of this moment.”
At his words, Ver got a blooming but morbid satisfaction at hearing the lawyer say that; she knew it was aimed at her family. And she and her brother knew damn well that the house was theirs.
“You will be escorted to Armand house immediately.” Mr. Sher smiled and dug his hand into his desk drawers and produced a pair of large golden keys. “Welcome home.”
There was a loud collective sigh across the room as the meeting adjourned, mixed with horrifically flowery perfumes that stuck to the walls like cigarette smoke and anger and disappointment. The glares and daggers were still there as Luc and Ver exited the room, Luc’s arm around Ver’s tiny shoulders. As they reached the streets below, Ver noticed Luc jiggling the keys in his hand as a few more members of the family walked past, turning up their pert, plastic noses.
“Luc, what’s the matter?” Ver said, shivering against the French cold.
“Just glad it’s ours now,” Luc sighed, returning the keys to his coat pocket and slinking his arm across Ver’s shoulders. He pressed his lips against her sunken cheek and said lowly, “No more family bullshit. We’ll get a dog, name him Rambo, and put up a chien tueur sign so none of those greedy bastards come on the property. If they do, though, the only way out is without an arm…”
Ver laughed at that, until she saw one of the quiet cousins approach them. She kicked Luc in the leg and he turned to look.
Luc and Leighton Armand, a young lawyer fresh out of school, never had a bloody wonderful relationship; it was mutual, especially ever since Leighton said something about the twins’ mother being a whore or something else vulgar. Luc managed to take a swing in the middle of the funeral, before the bodies were lowered into the ground, and broke Leighton’s nose, storming away with Ver.
“Hello, you two,” Leighton Armand said, blowing warm air into his kid-gloved hands. He laughed and looked around in an attempt to get some small talk out of his younger cousins. “Bit chilly, isn’t it?”
“Bit,” Ver said, stepping lightly. Why did the damn driver have to take so long? She just wanted to get to Armand House already and hop into bed and sleep forever and watch her and Luc’s life fall into perfect harmony.
“Yeah,” Luc said, crossing his arms and not looking at his cousin. There was a heated crackle in the air that made Ver lower her head in silent prayer that the boys won’t be at each other’s throats again.
Leighton looked like he wanted to say something other than what he planned to; instead: “Look, guys, I’m really happy for you. Congrats on the house. You deserve it, especially after what happened.” He stuck out a hand. “Truce?”
Luc, though hesitant, smiled first and shook Leighton’s hand. “Truce.”
Ver did the same, smiling as well, but she didn’t say anything. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black Town Car ride up the busy road.
“You guys take care, okay?” Leighton said, pulling his hand back and retrieving a card from his pocket – a business card, elaborately labeled with Leighton S. Armand, Esq. in golden lettering. He handed it to Ver as he said, “And don’t hesitate to come visit me. It gets boring in the office at times.”
“Come by for coffee,” Luc said, trying his will at being friendly. For some reason, he didn’t trust Leighton so much anymore. “Tomorrow at two sound good?”
“Absolutely. Well, it was nice seeing you both again. Good day!” Leighton said. He smiled again, hugged them both, and walked off, blending with the bustle of early afternoon shoppers. Just then, the Town Car stopped on the curb. Their uncle’s faithful driver, Marcel, exited and helped them in.
“Ver,” Luc said once they pulled away from the curb. “Why don’t I trust anyone anymore?”
Ver curled her hand in her brother’s and said, “I’ve no idea.”
“I get this weird feeling all the time,” Luc was saying absently. “That nothing is real anymore. All I’m seeing in front of my eyes is a movie and I’m simply sitting and watching what’s going on without truly being there.”
Ver sighed and reached over to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind Luc’s ear. “Everything is real, Luc. You’re here, we’re here, we have Armand House now. Everything will be okay.” Gently, she turned his face, so his glass green eyes, the only similarity between them, met hers. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He smiled lightly and found that, with great relief, the feeling that he described faded with the cold fog that plastered the window.
At that, those who were named Luc and Versailles were glared at by the distant family members that were scattered about the large office. Heat and daggers emitted from their dark eyes as they blew ghosts into each other’s ears; they wanted Armand house, they deserved Armand House, they needed Armand House. But they didn’t deserve it, those two. Armand house – left to two eighteen year old children, just graduated from high school, already rich from the previous wills of their parents and their uncle, and now they had to receive the mansion as well. Old Uncle Armand must’ve been a senile old fool to make such a dumb decision. What the hell was he on when he talked to that idiot lawyer?
Versailles’s green eyes immediately went to her brother’s for comfort, but she didn’t even know why she was looking to him; he didn’t decide this. It was Uncle Armand’s decision. He gazed at her with the same green eyes, confused, when she said, “Oh, merde.”
The various family members continued to shoot daggers at the girl as they swiveled around in their chairs to look at her reaction – maybe they were hoping that she’d raise her skinny little hand and object to the matter, leaving it, Armand House and all, to grandma whoever, grandpa what, auntie whatever. A grandfather in the corner coughed loudly.
“Ver,” her brother whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe it.”
Ignoring him and the others whom were glaring at her, Ver raised her gloved hand up, holding her breath. Do or die, Ver. What can they do? The house is yours. Damn them all…
“Mr. Sher, when can we move in?” Ver asked, immediately putting her hand down. She didn’t realized how small and meager her voice sounded, till she heard the half-satisfied snickers from her family. Still, they wished that both would back out of it; however, uncle Armand’s plans were going quite against the grain, which they didn’t like. Two cousins situated in the back of the room snorted and left. Luc and Ver could hear them huffing and puffing and chugging in the hall as they exited.
“Now,” Luc said almost silently next to her.
Mr. Sher blinked at them, took off his glasses, and cleaned them off with a silk rag from his pocket as he said, “Miss and Mr. Armand, the house is yours as of this moment.”
At his words, Ver got a blooming but morbid satisfaction at hearing the lawyer say that; she knew it was aimed at her family. And she and her brother knew damn well that the house was theirs.
“You will be escorted to Armand house immediately.” Mr. Sher smiled and dug his hand into his desk drawers and produced a pair of large golden keys. “Welcome home.”
There was a loud collective sigh across the room as the meeting adjourned, mixed with horrifically flowery perfumes that stuck to the walls like cigarette smoke and anger and disappointment. The glares and daggers were still there as Luc and Ver exited the room, Luc’s arm around Ver’s tiny shoulders. As they reached the streets below, Ver noticed Luc jiggling the keys in his hand as a few more members of the family walked past, turning up their pert, plastic noses.
“Luc, what’s the matter?” Ver said, shivering against the French cold.
“Just glad it’s ours now,” Luc sighed, returning the keys to his coat pocket and slinking his arm across Ver’s shoulders. He pressed his lips against her sunken cheek and said lowly, “No more family bullshit. We’ll get a dog, name him Rambo, and put up a chien tueur sign so none of those greedy bastards come on the property. If they do, though, the only way out is without an arm…”
Ver laughed at that, until she saw one of the quiet cousins approach them. She kicked Luc in the leg and he turned to look.
Luc and Leighton Armand, a young lawyer fresh out of school, never had a bloody wonderful relationship; it was mutual, especially ever since Leighton said something about the twins’ mother being a whore or something else vulgar. Luc managed to take a swing in the middle of the funeral, before the bodies were lowered into the ground, and broke Leighton’s nose, storming away with Ver.
“Hello, you two,” Leighton Armand said, blowing warm air into his kid-gloved hands. He laughed and looked around in an attempt to get some small talk out of his younger cousins. “Bit chilly, isn’t it?”
“Bit,” Ver said, stepping lightly. Why did the damn driver have to take so long? She just wanted to get to Armand House already and hop into bed and sleep forever and watch her and Luc’s life fall into perfect harmony.
“Yeah,” Luc said, crossing his arms and not looking at his cousin. There was a heated crackle in the air that made Ver lower her head in silent prayer that the boys won’t be at each other’s throats again.
Leighton looked like he wanted to say something other than what he planned to; instead: “Look, guys, I’m really happy for you. Congrats on the house. You deserve it, especially after what happened.” He stuck out a hand. “Truce?”
Luc, though hesitant, smiled first and shook Leighton’s hand. “Truce.”
Ver did the same, smiling as well, but she didn’t say anything. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black Town Car ride up the busy road.
“You guys take care, okay?” Leighton said, pulling his hand back and retrieving a card from his pocket – a business card, elaborately labeled with Leighton S. Armand, Esq. in golden lettering. He handed it to Ver as he said, “And don’t hesitate to come visit me. It gets boring in the office at times.”
“Come by for coffee,” Luc said, trying his will at being friendly. For some reason, he didn’t trust Leighton so much anymore. “Tomorrow at two sound good?”
“Absolutely. Well, it was nice seeing you both again. Good day!” Leighton said. He smiled again, hugged them both, and walked off, blending with the bustle of early afternoon shoppers. Just then, the Town Car stopped on the curb. Their uncle’s faithful driver, Marcel, exited and helped them in.
“Ver,” Luc said once they pulled away from the curb. “Why don’t I trust anyone anymore?”
Ver curled her hand in her brother’s and said, “I’ve no idea.”
“I get this weird feeling all the time,” Luc was saying absently. “That nothing is real anymore. All I’m seeing in front of my eyes is a movie and I’m simply sitting and watching what’s going on without truly being there.”
Ver sighed and reached over to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind Luc’s ear. “Everything is real, Luc. You’re here, we’re here, we have Armand House now. Everything will be okay.” Gently, she turned his face, so his glass green eyes, the only similarity between them, met hers. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He smiled lightly and found that, with great relief, the feeling that he described faded with the cold fog that plastered the window.
♠ ♠ ♠
