Man of the Year (Drake Story)

Chapter Seksogtyve

I sent Cyrus the two-million dollars immediately after I left. He called later to let me know that he received it and used it already, and that I’d receive a call from him tomorrow morning. We had this first phone call about two hours after I left Drake’s house, after I’d reached my hotel. I couldn’t help but cry in my bed, thinking of what could've happened during that two hours. Obviously, Cyrus had already spoken to Drake. But what else? Did he already execute the plan? Was this already a done deal, or could I rush back to the mansion soon enough to tell Cyrus to call everything off?

Even if Drake was still alive by then, I wouldn’t go back. Of course, Cyrus and I put this all together, but if it really wasn’t meant to be, it wouldn’t happen. There would be someone or something to have stopped us by now. This was Drake’s destiny, his time and place to go. We were only apprentices of this greater power.

As satisfying as that solution may be, it still meant that if this was Drake’s destiny, then everyone else had one. What was Keziah’s? Now that I wasn’t with her, what would become of her? What would she do all alone in that big house that I bought her? Would she be alone?

It made me extremely uncomfortable to imagine Keziah with someone else, so I forced myself to stop thinking about what would come of her.

What about Belphoebe? She was truly insane, a girl who didn’t know right from wrong, who was driven by greed and curiosity. Once Drake was dead and I bought the mansion from its beneficiary, what would she do with her life? What if she was the one who the mansion would be given to? If this was true, I’d have quite a difficult time convincing her to sell it to me, and she might even force me to do something I normally wouldn’t, something dangerous. I neglected this thought, too.

The only thing left in my mind was anxiety for the sky to get darker and for the hours to roll by. For tomorrow. Because, even if it wasn’t midnight yet, this day was done for me. I could feel in my bones that my uncle was dead, and no matter how much of a devilish man he was, I loved him. He provided for me numerous times in my life even when my father didn’t want him to, and he’d do the same for anyone else he cared about. He was business savvy and knew how to control people. This might not be a positive attribute, but it got him through life more than comfortably. That’s everyone’s goal here, I think: to get through it.

I was through with this day.

                                                          ---

The next morning, I opened my eyes to a bright burst of sun oozing through the half-closed blinds. The sheets were still covering my feet, my head didn’t hurt, and there were no servants bugging me about taking a shower before breakfast. It was a good start to a very unpredictable day.

I did take my shower, but with the freedom of not having to be at a dining table with a bunch of people I didn’t necessarily like in ten minutes. I stayed in there for about twenty, brushed my teeth with a smile, and then - for the first time since I was a teenager - shaved my face. I felt happy, like I was a new person starting on a completely new slate.

That is, until my phone rang.

I rushed out of the bathroom to answer, thinking that it could be Keziah telling me she’d found someone else or Belphoebe saying she was about to kill herself or Drake saying our little plan was a bust. But as promised, it was Cyrus.

“Good morning, Aubrey.” He said.

“Good morning,” I tried not to make it too obvious that he’d ruined my mood. “How are things?”

“If by that you mean ‘how did things go last night’, then things are great. Your beloved uncle is gone. Four hours ago, Haley found him dead, and she told Madeleine. The whole house knows, and they’re crying. Keziah is here, by the way.”