Charlie was, as he would like to call it, a modern man. He lived in a penthouse, provided by his parents of course, decked out in the latest technology. There was even one of those mechanisms where you clap and the lights turn off. 

Living such a Richie Rich lifestyle appealed to Charlie, and he would sometimes delve into living the life of a global rapstar, but the plethora of drugs and strippers and partying often got stale. He preferred to dabble. The lifestyle of the quietly rich appealed to him more. He did miss the strippers sometimes though. There was one named Tiffani, spelled with an i at the end, that was simply… 

But the best things are of course, left unsaid. Charlie loved looking at himself in the mirror - the cocaine he ‘dabbled’ in hadn’t stolen his looks yet. 

He was tall; he played basketball every morning. He was actually half Chinese, and his father was Swedish, so he had dark eyes and dark hair to his shoulders, but had the nordic height and bone structure. He dressed impeccably - his mother and father sent him clothes from Europe. Today he was wearing black-as-night denim from head to toe and a white t-shirt.  

Charlie grumbled, all of this came with a price. His parents required him to have a perfect attendance at university, and ace all of his exams. The consequences were diabolical. He would have to work at his uncle’s law firm, and he definitely did not want to do that. He was free, unrestrained. Nobody would be able to tie down the butterfly. Of course, he was ignorant of how hypocritical the notion was, but…

It was time to go to his morning lecture. He picked up his backpack with a limp wrist and left his apartment. The elevator took him straight to the parking garage, and he slipped into his car. The interior was plush beige leather. He inhaled. He loved his car. It was a Mercedes-Benz, nothing too fancy of course - for fear of seeming like a nouveau-riche - but he loved to drive to university in the car, and scoffed in pride at the envious looks on the students’ faces as he parked in the faculty car park. 

As soon as he stepped out of his car, all eyes were on him. He smirked, and the ladies swooned. Each step he took sent convulsions into the bodies of the women, so much so that an elderly woman pissed herself - she couldn’t take it. No one man should have all that power. 

Of course it was all a fantasy of Charlie’s, nobody really cared all that much about his entrance, but it was safe to say that he had no shortage of women who wanted to be with him. He entered the lecture hall, ten minutes late, and sauntered to his seat. Three girls immediately occupied the seats next to his. 

“I threw a party last night, why didn’t you come? Even after I invited you personally.” 

A blonde girl rolled her eyes and sat to Charlie’s left. She grabbed onto his arm. Her name was Heather, and she was the quintessential preppy blonde. She was also the smartest girl in class. To Charlie’s right, two girls were sat - Mia, who was a pretty brunette who seemed as if she had walked off the cover of vogue magazine, and Sasha, a black girl who oozed sensuality and had the best body Charlie had ever seen. 

Mia looked at his outfit and asked, 

“Alexander Wang shoes, Raf Simons shirt… and I wanna say… that denim suit isn't Margiela  is it?” 

“Yeah, Mom sent it from Paris last week,” Charlie said,

“Those are totally sold out, aren’t they? My brother got camped out for two days, but he only barely got it.” Sasha said.

“Mom knows people,” Charlie replied, and then paid attention to the lecture. The topic was Chinese History, one of the few things he actually had an active interest in. Something about how brutal and domineering it was tickled him. As a half-chinese person, it made him proud that his ancestors were so bold. 

Heather looked at Charlie, and pouted at the fact that she had been ignored. Charlie had a way of ignoring people, to make it seem as though you were an insect. He regarded those he disliked, no, didn’t care for, as air. 

Although Heather was pretty, and was Charlie’s type, there was a reason why he ignored her. Charlie had a way of discerning character. Of course, he didn’t like Heather the first moment he laid his eyes on her, but for how eccentric and arrogant Charlie was, he didn’t treat people unkindly. He remembered how he had been in his youth - unbridled and mean - but that was soon rectified by his uncle. 

Remembering the beatings, he shuddered. 

It was actually something Heather had done that had pissed him off. She was a bully, and not just in the Mean Girls, Regina George kind of way. She was much worse. She used, abused and threw away people like they were tissues. 

There was one incident that had made Charlie’s stomach turn. From then on, he ignored her existence. Judging by the glower Heather’s boyfriend was sending him, he didn’t approve of her being there. Charlie ignored him too. 

Finally, Heather left, and her friends left after her. Charlie actually didn’t mind Sasha and Mia, although he didn’t like how weak-willed they were, they weren’t evil to their cores like Heather was. That he could say for sure. 

The lecture ended at midday, and Charlie left to go have lunch. On his way out, he felt a massive impact on his shoulder. He snorted, “So where do you want to eat this time,” he said without looking at the person beside him. 

“That Chinese place we went to last month, the one that was kind of out of the way. Damn that sweet and sour pork was awesome!”  The owner of the arm’s deep voice drooled. 

“Brock, if you get drool on my clothes I swear I’m never taking you out again,” Charlie rolled his eyes.

Brock was, to put it simply, a giant of a man. Standing at 6’ 5”, he was also on the basketball team - he was actually its ace. Brock and Charlie were mismatched friends. Charlie was probably the richest kid in school, while Brock was attending on a scholarship. 

Stolen novel; please report.

Brock had forced himself into Charlie’s friendship, but it wasn’t malicious in any way. Brock liked the way Charlie played ball, and he loved food. Their relationship was built on simplicity, and that was the way Charlie liked it. 

“I feel you on the food though, you really have me craving some.” he grinned at Brock and they raced to the car. 

The restaurant was deep in the midst of Chinatown, nestled between a Chinese casino and a pet store. It was unassuming at first glance, but a smell - so divine it could tempt heaven - wafted out, and hooked in all those who smelled it. It was small inside, and only had ten tables about half of which were occupied, but it was beautiful. Antiques adorned the walls, and incense smoke made the whole place smell fresh. Brock and Charlie waltzed in, and Brock took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sage and glorious Chinese food. 

“I could definitely eat a whole table full of chow mein right now,” 

Brock laughed. A waitress walked up to the pair, wearing a beautiful silk qipao. She sat them down at a table for six, even though they asked for a table for two, but their minds were so enamoured by the smell coming out of the kitchen that they didn’t notice. 

“What would you like to order?” 

“Well, start us off with two orders of duck pancakes, some spring rolls, chicken chow mein, crispy duck, some sweet and sour pork…” 

Brock proceeded to rattle off a whole list of food - way more food than two people could eat. Charlie added a few orders here and there too. 

The waitress remembered them from last time they came - she had actually thought that they were going to run off without paying, and had two goons from the triads’ casino waiting outside to grab them, but as soon as she saw Charlie flash his black card, she relaxed. She even gave them complimentary dessert and wine. She knew she had gotten hold of a pair of fat sheep. 

Even now she looked at the pair like a hawk eyes its prey. She borderline loved them. Of course it was because they also tipped massively. 

“I’m beginning to think we ordered too much,” Charlie whispered. A row of waitresses were bringing the food to their table, and it was an unending procession. So much food left the kitchen it was a wonder they had any left! Looking at the mountains of food before them, Charlie felt pure trepidation. Brock laughed,

“If we can’t finish all this food we simply aren’t men.” 

“Who said I couldn’t finish it? I just think that you’re going to collapse halfway, leaving me to shovel it all in! I’d die before I give up and let you gloat.” 

Charlie dove straight in, shovelling chow mien down his gullet. Brock followed, and crammed pancakes into his mouth. The sight was amazing, a flurry of food and marvellous machismo as the competition got underway. 

As they were halfway through, a little bell chimed as the door opened. The pair of diners didn’t look up, but as soon as they heard the preppy voice, they knew they had come. Heather, her boyfriend, Mia and Sasha. 

“Oh, fancy meeting you guys here, can we join you?” Heather giggled before immediately sitting at their table, without even waiting for an answer. Once the group were seated, Heather’s boyfriend, Keith, who was captain of the soccer team, glared at Charlie once again. 

“What the hell are you looking at, bastard?” Brock almost spat venom as he roared. 

Keith sneered, “Nothing much apparently,” he ordered food for the new arrivals and snorted at Charlie in derision. Charlie had not acknowledged their entrance and had actually carried on eating the whole time. 

It made for an awkward table. 

Keith was murderously staring at Charlie, Brock was equally as fierce. Heather repeatedly tried getting Charlie’s attention, much to Keith’s increasing annoyance, but to no avail, while Sasha and Mia were eating their tiny salads. 

The tension was almost palpable, until it reached boiling point. Keith’s face turned red as he smacked his fist on the table and bellowed with spittle flying,

“Stop flirting with him!” the dishes on the table rattled. All eyes in the restaurant went to Keith. The waitress quickly scurried into the kitchen. Popcorn was essential. 

“Have you forgotten we’re in a restaurant, Keith?” Heather glared at her boyfriend, “Don’t pull this in public.” 

Keith acted as if he had been shot in the heart by this and his rage became even more evident. 

“Public this, public that. You’re such a manipulative bitch! How could you just flirt with another dude right in front of me? You think you’re really something don’t you? I don’t have to be with you, Becky Reynolds was begging to hook up with me last night.” 

Heather snorted, and a cold look entered her eyes. “You’ve really disappointed me, Keith.” She looked away from him and continued to flirt with Charlie. She never looked back. 

“Fuck!” Keith trembled with anger and stormed out of the restaurant.

Brock ran his fingers through his hair and had a flustered look on his face. 

“I think we should call it a day?”  

They paid and left. The waitress had trouble swiping Charlie’s black card - the butter on her fingers was greasy. She didn’t forget to deduct a huge tip too.