A tall, disagreeable sort of man towered over the table nestled parallel to the back of the couch. In one hand, he held the base of a phone, and in the other, the receiver. It was easy to tell by just looking at him that he had been very skinny and lanky decades ago. The years had since taken their toll. His hair had a similar worn disheveled air and was a bit coarse with out-of-place feathered ends. The color ranged from a medium gray to a light mousy brown. It was in the process of drastically straying from the latter. He was physically large and intrusive, but none of those qualities turned heads.
His voice was what attracted those who first approached him. It was loud and booming. It was the sort of voice you could hear clearly at a party from across the hall. Though the sound levels were not, it's only draw. The obnoxious bass was framed with a very worn in British accent that was very prominent. Each word he spoke into the phone, no matter how small, had power. He forged each word without thinking, a slurring of instinct and inhibition. He stood impatiently, listening to the voice on the other end.
His restlessness was shown in the haphazard and random way he jostled the phone base.
The windows in front of him would have been letting in a beautiful bright, welcoming gesture, symbolizing the entrance into the afternoon, but he kept the thick drapes unmoved, sealing in the dark, dank colors that seemed to be decades old. The room itself was a decent size, and the walls were covered in thick, decadent paper. Its style gestured to its age, not its condition. In fact, the only flaws seemed to cluster near the door frame.
The walls were the only garish component in the house; every other constructed feature was subtle. The hardware was a demure silver. Not real silver, but realistic looking. This encompassed everything from the lamp base to the desk drawer handles.
The table rested its back against the back of the couch. The two very obviously fought for the center of the room. The sofa, always the clear winner, was draped in a stiff fabric made of a leafy pattern that danced across it mechanically. The only out-of-place feature was the man himself. He very obviously broke the aesthetic.
His brow furrowed, a subtle reaction to the news he was receiving. He was very obviously trying to hold back his ire—an easily tempted demon. "I don't care. Fix…" His demanding and somewhat terrifying words were swiftly started and finished. "Fine." He said begrudgingly as he accepted the news. With one swift motion, he slammed the receiver onto the base held in his left hand, then threw it against the wall.
It shattered into hundreds of pieces. The flecks broke off in slow motion creating a starburst of freedom that lightly showered his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned back around to face the swaddled window.
Another man peered in from the hall. He was significantly shorter and better-looking. "What was that?" He asked. His tone portrayed a touch of concern but was more playful than anything. He knew precisely what the loud noise was. He looked down at the ground near the other man's feet and saw the mess of plastic. "Thomas." He said, trying not to laugh as he looked at the stoic pieces of plastic lying amongst the lush carpet. "We can't keep buying new telephones." Thomas turned to see Edward standing awkwardly with both elbows resting on the side of the door frame. "The shareholders are not happy." He said; Edward's demeanor quickly changed. At that moment, he understood why the phone was no longer functioning. He took one step into the room and spoke. "I'm sure it will work out." He said, trying to quell his anger with optimistic projection, even though he wasn't sure if he believed his words. "Have you heard from Genera?" He asked while walking even further into the room.
Edward was very much the athletic-looking sort, no extreme definition but reasonably toned. "No," Thomas said tersely. Edward immediately regretted asking the question. "Let's just wait it out; we are already here, might as well." Thomas clumsily walked over to the desk that sat diagonally from the couch. The desk was covered in dozens of loose papers. Some designs and others are not even worth mentioning. The only portion of that cluttered corner more distracting was the poster of the car they tacked to the wall above it. Thomas wistfully shuffled through the papers. He picked one up, a sketch of a vehicle similar to that on the poster. He looked at it; his demeanor was unmoving. "I know we can make this work here." He said with defying certainty. His words did not surprise Edward but rather their delivery. He was a very cynical man, and at that moment, he was projecting pure hope. A childlike and pure emotion that was very uncommon in the vessel of all things harsh and detached. "Of course," Edward added, "Even if Genera does not work out, there are other options. If the Copan can be sold in England, it can be sold here."
Thomas had said so many times before. He chuckled. "It is true." Thomas relaxed and poured himself a stiff drink. Just as he finished, the front door opened. The duo remained silent until the man entered the room. "So," he began while taking his coat off; before he could continue Edward shot him a look, trying to signal him to stop. His efforts were lost on his very clueless friend. "Hear anything?" Edward turned to Thomas, bracing for another outburst of rage, but his response was even more terrifying. "Of course not." He said, slumping onto the couch with a hint of defeat on his tongue. "Oh, I'm sure they will come through," William said, finally realizing his mistake. Thomas, whose mind was already wandering elsewhere, grunted halfheartedly in response.
Edward slowly walked behind the couch. William saw what he was approaching and began to laugh. Edward methodically picked up each piece. He laid them all on the table where the whole phone was typically kept. He tried forcing some of the larger pieces together very ungracefully, similar to how a child would have. Thomas leaned his head back to see what he was doing. "Don't bother." He said, waving his hand nonchalantly behind him. "I will get another one later."
William sat down at the desk then interjected. Do you want me to go back out and get a new one now?" Thomas waited a few seconds, then declined. "Are you sure? I don't mind stepping out again." "No, no, I will go." He insisted. Edward continued to tinker with the phone until Thomas got annoyed with the noise. "Let it go." He said, "It's not going to work."
Even though that was obvious to Edward, he still felt like trying to salvage it was the right thing to do at that moment. Thomas leaned to his side and pulled up the garbage pail. Edward accepted it and placed the pieces inside.
Content that he was obeyed, Thomas stood to replenish his drink. His large hands reached out to grasp the decanter. He pulled out the gem-shaped stopper and poured a sliver more into his glass. With one rough but succinct motion, he lifted the glass to his lips, disposed of its contents, and returned it to the table. "I'm off." He announced. Edward took a deep breath as soon as the front door closed. He ran his hands through his thick disheveled hair. "I hope he feels better by the time he returns." William mirrored his sentiment with an uneasy smile. "There is no reason to get upset yet; we have time." Edward's words sparked Williams' memory. "Oh!" He exclaimed dramatically. "Have you seen the Times article?" Edward whipped around to face him. "No!" He said with an air of excitement and terror. "What did it say?" He assumed it was about their business by Williams' vocal delivery. Edward tried to remain hopeful, but a pang of doubt haunted him. William walked briskly to the coat rack. The rack was simple but notable. It was black with a glossy sheen and silver hooks. Two coats hung lifelessly on it; one was black and finely pressed, and one was blue and a bit disheveled. William reached into the breast pocket of the blue wool coat and pulled out a tightly rolled-up newspaper.
"It's not bad, at least in my opinion." He said, sensing Edward's trepidation. He sat at the desk, unrolled the paper, and began to read it. "Copan, the front-runner in small car fortune, finds opportunity in America. Copan, the Ford of Europe, invented the Copan 12, which sold thousands. Though no deals have been made, the American people are in the market for a smaller car." Edward was frozen halfway into a seated position. He stood. "That isn't bad at all." He said, pretty surprised. "I'm not done," William interjected. He continued. "Though the demand is there, the stockholders of Copan are angry with the idea of a potential deal with the currently interested party, Genera." Edward slumped into the chair. "Thomas is going to hate this." William nodded.
"It's still not the worst outcome." William tossed the paper onto the coffee table and sat on the couch. Edward took that chance to approach the desk and pour himself a drink. He lifted a graceful looking long-necked bottle of scotch. "What should we do?" William inquired. After manipulating the glistening amber liquid into two circular etched glasses, he lifted one and looked at William. "Ice?" "Yes, lots." He responded. He was confused by his decision to put the alcohol in before the ice. "I don't think we should react yet." He said as he returned to the couch with the drinks. Both men sat side by side, positioned straight towards the bay window.
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As if they were synchronized, they both aggressively hit their glasses to their lips. William took a breath and slowly began to relax. "It's nothing we didn't already know." Edward shrugged. "Now everyone knows." Edward grabbed the paper and stared at the article as if it would give him an answer. His eyes burned through it. He read it again for himself. "You know, this isn't bad. It could be, but it isn't." He looked straight at the windows again.
Edward stood and parted the drapes. The bright mid-afternoon light flooded the room. The effects looked more lively with the natural light letting itself into the room. They could see the expanse of grass that led up to the road. The wind cascaded across the blades, a pleasant relief from the usual heat of that September. "I think the possibility of it all ending in a disaster is the part no one likes; it's just the risk." William was still nursing his drink as Edward set his empty glass down. "Thomas, he was taking a walk, right?" William asked. "Yes." They both looked at each other and smiled. "He's going to be gone for quite a while…." "Race?" They both jumped to their feet.
There were three cars parked as close to the house as possible—the shape of the road curved at the edge of each house in that particular cluster. William and Edward each hopped into a car and sped off. Both vehicles were identical; they were the same make, model, and color. The chic jet-black body plowed through the terrain like a deadly panther.
They drove side by side on the cusp of a flat pasture. The air whipped past their faces, invigorating them with the brisk chill and accompanying adrenaline. They tore apart fields without looking back. They knew no one, and no one dared to chase them. They missed the English streets, though the United States had its own unmatched appeal. A freeing naivety. The noise and exhaust from the cars were overwhelming to those new to the concept of automobiles, and their adventures were always a spectacle.
They eventually returned to the house. Thomas was already back inside, hooking up a new phone. "Oh, if we had known you were going to be back so soon, you could have joined us for a race," Edward said apologetically. "Race with you losers? No way." He turned to them. "Phone up and running?" Edward asked. "There better not be dirt on those cars," Thomas said. Edward and William looked at each other and ran out the door again. Thomas picked up the phone. The phone was a disgusting green like the last one, in fact, they tried to buy the same color every time. It was a weird joke. He held the receiver up to his right ear and waited as it rang. "Phil!" He said, excited he got someone on the line. "Have you heard anything?" He stood silently as the man spoke to him. "Come on," he pressed. "I know you can get information faster than I." He paused again. "I know, I know, my phone was down for a bit. Five? OK, I'll wait. Bye."
Edward came back into the house. His clothes were covered in water. Thomas looked over at him. "Did you guys finish destroying the cars yet?" Edward laughed. "The races, whether they be with cars or water, never last long." "Well, William is very slow with everything." "Though, to be fair, he is a much faster driver than the average person." Edward pointed out. "Who wants to be fair? "Thomas retorted. They laughed. "Where is he?" "Outside, he saw a lady," Edward answered, holding in laughter. "He is hopeless," Thomas said, rolling his eyes.
William ran into a lady going for a walk with her dog. She was in her early thirties and was a bit taller than the average woman, probably around five-seven. She happened to be walking by while he was shutting one of the car doors, and she complimented the car. That led to a detailed and long two-sided conversation. She was primarily average-looking; she had brown hair and was wearing a gray skirt, thick stockings, and a gray jacket. Her dog was a medium-size, just like her. "What breed is your dog?" He asked. She smiled. She loved talking about her dog. "He's a Beagle." "May I pet him?" He asked. "Yes." William knelt down and scratched behind his ears. The dog was appreciative and licked his hand. "So, what are you doing in this area? I haven't seen you around before." "I live over there. She pointed across the road. I noticed your cars when you first moved in; I was hoping to meet the three of you." "If you would like, I could take you on a ride sometime?" She smiled. "That would be lovely! Stopover anytime." She said right before she waved goodbye. William watched her walk away. The dog was happy to get back to their walk.
William eventually went inside. His eyes had to adjust to the dim light, he didn't consider the light outside very bright that day, but the inside of the house was pushing that perception. "Why on earth is it so dark in here?" He said to no one in particular. Edward appeared in the doorway between the hallway and sitting room. "You know, I didn't notice it until you mentioned it." He turned around and hit the light switch. William joined Thomas and Edward in the sitting room. "What's going on?" He asked. "You tell us?" Edward said, laughing. "Yeah, I hear you met a lady." "Yes…so?" "You weren't out there that long, didn't she like your bold shirt choice?" "Truly, she was interested in the cars, and I offered to give her a ride later. She was surprisingly into it." Edward and Thomas laughed.
Their lightheartedness was interrupted by the sound of the phone. They looked at each other. Thomas slowly walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?" He started off with a positive tone, but after that one moment, his voice changed. "OK, fine, you are undoubtedly an idiot." He slammed the phone down on the base without breaking it. Edward, afraid to look at him, was pulled in by curiosity. "The deal is off, isn't it?" Thomas responded with silence; he began to pace around the room, "A bunch of wankers." He spat out angrily. Edward, who was more level-headed, was able to think quickly, "I'll check out the town tomorrow and see if we can find something else. Don't worry about it; this will work out ." Thomas seemed to be a little more annoyed after his words. "There won't be anything else; I can't imagine anything right now." His words were meaningless, and knowing this, he stormed out of the room. Edward could hear his heavy footsteps crush the floor tiles beneath him as he walked through the hallway and out the front door. He heard the door swing forcefully open but did not hear it close. He thought that he might have stopped at the doorway, so he ran into the hallway. Thomas was getting into one of the cars.
Edward was grateful he had not closed the door, aware that he most likely would have broken the glass insert inside it. He stood in the doorway. He was not waiting for anything in particular; he figured the fresh air could not hurt. After a few deep breaths, he returned to the hallway and closed the door gently behind him.
The sitting room was silent and empty. Edward usually felt more comfortable alone, but that day the feeling led to a lingering emptiness. He walked past the sitting room to the stairs. As an extreme contrast to Thomas, the tiles quietly creaked under his shoes. The sound was almost satisfying. His right foot made its way to the first stair. Joining the melodic noise, it creaked his own baritone ode. Once he reached the landing, he stood still, reviving his thoughts from moments before.
His room sat to the left. He slowly walked to the door and placed his hand on the glass-looking doorknob. It looked like glass, but to the touch, it felt softer, possibly a kind of plastic. He turned the knob, and the rusty metal framing the keyhole scraped against his knuckles. There was a hole for a skeleton key. He continually voiced his disappointment that no one used them any longer. He gently closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and took a deep breath.
His room was simple, just like the others. They had been renting the house for a few months to facilitate their business dealings in the United States. His natural home was Longbridge, England, a quaintly beautiful old town. He loved his country, but America seemed like an invigorated version, which pleased and excited him. There were new inventions and concepts around every corner. He sat down on the edge of the bed. There was an ancient-looking telephone on the bedside table. He picked up the receiver. "Hello." He responded. "No, sadly, the deal did not go through. "I don't know when we are going back." He paused, "We might look for another opportunity. I know." Almost anticipating what the person on the other end was going to say. "I will let you know when we have time off so I can come to see you." "OK, I'll call you if anything changes. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He calmed himself and flopped back onto his bed. The ceiling was white and very ugly. There were clumps of paint smeared poorly across it.
The front door opened, and Edward heard it all the way in his room. William called for him. "Edward?" It was easy to tell Thomas' and William's voices apart, Thomas was rough and careless, and William was soft-spoken and meticulous. "Up here," Edward yelled back. William clamored up the stairs and found Edward lying back on the bed. "I saw Thomas speed by on my way back." "Yeah" He only tilted up a bit to pull cigarettes and a lighter out of his bedside table. He lit the cigarette while still lying on his back. "Is it done for good?" He asked while entering the room further. He towered over Edward physically. He took a long puff. "Yes, for Genera at least." He placed the cigarette back in his mouth and paused before he spoke again, "But don't worry, I'm looking for other opportunities." As he spoke, the smoke flitted out of his mouth, coating his words with pillowy clouds. "Fag?" He asked, holding the pack up in the air. "You know I don't smoke." William said, "I thought maybe this would be an exception." Edward sat up and placed the carton on the table. "Should we even finish the designs?" He asked earnestly. "I am still going to; I do believe we will find something; it might help Thomas get moving again too. Honestly, I thought we were in completely until that call earlier." "We just need more buzz." "Hmm, buzz." Edward repeated, "that might be true." "Thomas needs to come back so we can get this started again." "I doubt he will be able to work today; he's irate; let's give him a day." "He will get over it," William said heartlessly. Edward stood up and walked to the dresser. He pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a large bottle of scotch. "Come on, let's go find him.