Page 11 of Medium
“Pfft. You’ll park around the corner. We’re going in through the servants’ entrance. Just head for River Oaks and I’ll show you where to go.”
I glared at him before focusing on the rear camera to make sure I could back out safely. “If we’re going in through the servants’ entrance, then why am I in a tuxedo?”
“Use your brain, Rory. It’s in case Chamberlain or one of his staff sees you.”
Personally, I thought I’d stand out more in the servants’ area in my tux vs. in more casual clothes, but it was too late now, so I kept my mouth shut.
At ten o’clock at night, it took less than fifteen minutes to get to River Oaks from Midtown.
Grandfather directed me through a series of residential streets lined with grand homes. His house, where I’d lived for most of my teenage years, had been several miles to the west and about half the size of these. Still, he’d had enough River Oaks friends to know this area well.
He directed me to park against the curb where several other cars lined the street. This must be where the valets were stashing the guests’ vehicles. My Range Rover didn’t stand out as badly as I’d feared, but the huge lawns I’d have to cross would make it difficult to get back to the car unobserved.
I got out and shut the door quietly, wishing I had a weapon of some kind. The sounds of the party floated on the muggy air from the next street over. I swallowed, my throat dry. I was a finance guy, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t Keanu Reeves.
But the girl. Fuck.
Grandfather pointed me up a nearby driveway. My dress shoes clacked on the concrete, and I hissed at him when a motion sensor triggered a spotlight.
“Bah, nobody’s home. Don’t worry about it.”
“What about security cameras?” I wished I’d worn a ski mask or something, except it would probably have just gotten me shot.
“I disabled them,” a deep voice said from somewhere in front of us.
I stifled a shriek and dropped to a crouch. “Who’s there?”
A ghost came toward us. A big ghost. A bigwolfghost.
Animals—land-based ones at least—didn’t generally end up as ghosts. The simpler the brain, the less likely to result in a ghost. And if you did see one, they didn’t talk.
“Uh, hi?”
The wolf shimmered and became human-shaped. I’d never seen a ghost do that before. He was still big, with bushy hair all over.Allover. He wasn’t wearing any clothes in the afterlife.
Okay then. I kept my eyes firmly on his face.
He nodded at me and Grandfather. “Name’s Garfield. Lorraine sent me.” He tilted his head as he examined me skeptically. “I floated near all the cameras along this route and fried ‘em.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. I’m Rory.”
He nodded again, his eyes now scanning the darkness around us. “This way.” He led us through a gate into an empty back yard. We skirted the pool, and Garfield pointed me to a magnetic key box on the underside of a chaise lounge.
I used the key to unlock a gate on the back wall, and we were immediately faced with another gate, which was fortunately unlocked. The second one opened into the yard belonging to the party house. Chamberlain’s house. His pool was off to one side, and a putting green took up most of the rest of the space. Some shrubs were planted along the perimeter wall, but otherwise there wasn’t any cover. I’d be completely exposed getting to the house.
“Ready?”
I locked the first gate and shut the second. “Um, how do you suggest I get to the house without being seen?”
Garfield scoffed. “This party’s full of rich assholes who act like they own the place. Just pretend you’re one of them. They won’t look at you twice.”
Good point. I dropped the gate key in my pocket and pulled out my phone. Straightening my spine and lifting my chin, I held my phone to my ear and strode confidently across the putting green toward the door Garfield indicated.
“How did you get here, Garfield?”
He spat toward the ground, though of course nothing landed. “I’m from Wyoming. Some asswipe sent a team of what looked like mercenaries in to capture my pack. Ten of us died, and five of us lived. Got me with a tranquilizer dart.” He spat again. “We were auctioned off. They put us on camera and shot us with tasers until we shifted. I ended up here, in the tender care of Randolph Chamberlain.” He snorted. “He didn’t dare have anyone else look after me, feed me, give me water, all that. But he also liked to go on long trips.” Garfield shrugged. “Coulda been a worse death.” He pressed his lips together. “I hope my packmates didn’t suffer.”
I couldn’t help my horrified gasp at Garfield’s terse recounting of his awful death, but I quickly schooled my expression into one more appropriate for my pretend billionaire persona.
