The next morning, I woke up feeling muddy, as if someone had stuffed my head full with cotton balls in place of thoughts. I yawned, blinked slowly and rubbed eyes as puffy as the cotton in my brain. My dry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. The ceiling looked unfamiliar, yet elicited memories from deep within my mind, fuzzy and blurred. I blinked again.

I was in my childhood bedroom, but it had been converted to a typical guest room. I stayed at the family mansion last night. The events of the evening came to me – the surprise graduation party, catching up with Sheen, meeting those businessmen and something about a glittery dress. I missed my meeting with Mea for those memories. I sighed before extricating myself from the mess of covers I was tangled in. A faint smell of bacon wafted through the air, beckoning me to come downstairs. Was chef still here? She sometimes stayed over after parties, having worked too hard during the night to bother coming home. When that happened, she would make a delicious and sophisticated breakfast for us. Sometimes though, if I asked nicely enough, she would make something less sophisticated for me and something only a child without parental supervision nor bedtime would ask to eat.

I dressed hurriedly, someone having thoughtfully laid out a set of clothes about my size, and entered the attached bathroom to brush my teeth. I found a bottle of toothpaste tablets and a fresh, unopened courtesy toothbrush in the adequately stocked cabinet, next to pain relief tablets and other assorted typical medicines. I popped a toothpaste tablet into my mouth and chewed it up while I opened the packaging for the toothbrush. Mindlessly, I watched my reflection as I performed the most basic of hygienic tasks. My eyes looked dull and swollen, my hair a tad greasy, and my skin a bit too yellow for my taste. How much had I drank with Sheen last night? I didn’t recall most of what had happened after reconnecting with him, truth be told. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing, for both myself and our illustrious family in front of all of those socialites.

I waltzed downstairs, following the intoxicating scent of frying pork belly, the popping of sizzling bacon growing louder and louder with each and every step.

“Good morning,” I said even before taking stock of who was in the room.

Chef, as I had guessed, was at the stovetop frying a glorious amount of bacon. My stepmother, Cerise, was seated at the breakfast nook with a steaming cup of coffee while she read from a document on her WaComm. Across from her sat my father’s secretary, Ka’ana Wela. I suppose she was less of a secretary and more of a highly skilled personal assistant. Her talents extended to my stepmother as well, I noticed, as Ka’ana seemed to be adding input to the document Cerise was reviewing.

Cerise startled when I said hello; I guess she was more absorbed in what she was doing than I had thought. A slight, apologetic smile later, she returned her attention to her document, laser focused. “Morning, Torven,” she greeted, not looking up again from her WaComm.

“Miss Wela,” I greeted, nodding my head at her.

“I trust you slept well, Mr. Montgomery?”

“I did, thank you.” I turned away to investigate the goings-on at the stovetop. “Morning, Chef. This all for me?” I reached for a slice that she had just removed from the pan. It was sitting all by itself on a plate covered in paper towels, glistening with grease. My mouth watered.

She slapped my hand away, unafraid to chastise me. “Those are for everyone. Behave.”

I grinned and took the piece anyway. She glared at me, which turned into a massive smile and a warm hug from the short woman. “You rascal, I’ve missed you. How have you been?”

“I don’t know if you heard, but I graduated from Aruga University. Even had a party.” I raised an eyebrow.

She laughed. “Cheeky rascal. Go sit, I’ll bring your plate over to you.”

I followed her instruction, smiling at her infectious good nature. I sat down at the breakfast nook where Cerise was still pouring over her work, Ka’ana of a similar posture. They both looked so stiff and awkward it was a little strange. Usually, Cerise was a bubbly and outgoing person, never tending towards awkwardness. Ka’ana, however, was typically very polite and proper, always the picture of etiquette. Either the document was very important, or something strange was going on.

“How’s father this morning? He still asleep?” I asked Cerise.

“I let him sleep in. He was very, very tired last night,” Cerise said curtly, still not looking up from her work.

I nodded, although they wouldn’t have seen my response, as neither of them diverted their attention from the screens they were so intent on examining. The silence continued, interrupted only by Chef placing a heavy plate in front of me, overflowing with bacon, fried eggs, and toast. I ate slowly, my stomach a little sensitive from the events of the previous evening. Drinking never treated me well the next day.

I cleared my throat.

“Ah, what are your plans for the day, dear?” Cerise asked me, this time making eye contact while I shoveled an entire fried egg in my mouth at once. She frowned at me; I shrugged.

She took my shrug as both a response and an acknowledgement of her disapproval of my manners, and continued to speak. “You should reach out to Sheen Fisher today, spend some time with him. HE mentioned how he’d like to catch up, just like old times.”

“Mhmm,” I said, swallowing the fried egg with difficulty. “He said as much last night.”

“Dr. Fisher is an esteemed member of our society,” Cerise advised. “He would be a good friend to maintain.”

Her words soured in my ears. Of course, I wanted to reconnect with Sheen. I just hated how she made it sound, like a chess piece moved just so on a board, as if my friend was only a pawn. Even worse, she was right. Continuing my friendship with Sheen – and consequently, his family – would be the right move for my inevitable future in politics. I just wished it wasn’t like that.

“I’ll message him today,” I said finally. “Maybe he’s free.”

Cerise nodded approvingly, then went back to her task. I fiddled with my WaComm, tapping through screens and swiping until I found Sheen’s info. A few more touches, and I had sent him a hello.

Ping.

He had responded rather quickly. I stuffed another piece of bacon in my mouth and got up from the table. My WaComm resurfaced, and I called my car to come pick me up. I had driven here, at least, so it wouldn’t be more than a moment, but the parking area was a decent distance away from the front door. Our house, like many others in our neighborhood, had a separate garage large enough to fit the cars for all of our guests, if necessary. But it was an eyesore, despite its beautiful craftsmanship, so it was just out of sight of the main living area.

“I’ll see you around at the penthouse,” I said to Cerise. “Tell father I said I hope he feels better.”

And with that, I was off, back to the apartment to meet Sheen. He was available today, and wanted to spend some time together, just like the old days. I found myself looking forward to whatever nonsense he had up his sleeve. When we were kids, he was always talking himself out of trouble. Often as not, I was right by his side. Fortunately, he was as good at talking himself and me out of trouble as it was to talk me into it.

I couldn’t help the grin on my face as I sat in the car waiting to arrive at my apartment. It was late morning, nearly noon, with plenty of time left in the day to do something fun, and I couldn’t wait to hear more about what Sheen had been up to. I didn’t exactly black out last night, but it was fuzzier than I wanted it to be after Sheen and I started drinking. I mostly remember laughing a lot, eating a hefty portion of hors d’oeuvres, and drinking even more.

By the time my car arrived at the apartment, Sheen was already there waiting outside, leaning nonchalantly against the building wall, smoking a home-made cigarette. I knew it was homemade, because you couldn’t buy cigarettes anymore – it’d been that way for at least a decade. And, I remembered Sheen’s fondness for them when we were teenagers. It was nostalgic, noticing he kept up the habit. Albeit a dangerous one.

“Those will kill you,” I said, though I smiled to show him I wasn’t angry.

He laughed, put it out against the building wall that held our penthouse, and straightened up. “Bout time you got here.” He looked as if death had warmed over, though his eyes were bright with mischief and a little red from the smoke.

We walked through the front door, passing the automated screens that pointed the way towards the various floors, each family last name listed per floor. Of course, they were all Montgomery. We essentially owned the whole building, even though it was built for several tenants.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Several hours flew by, the comfort of our easy friendship resuming as if we’d never spent any time apart. We were teenagers again, engrossed in our old favorite video games on the wallscreen, laughing and teasing each other, until we looked up and realized how much time had passed. I felt renewed, refreshed, young and free again, as if I had never grown older, as if time wasn’t relentless and inevitable.

“How does some food sound? Want to order in?” I suggested. I didn’t even want to lift myself from the couch.

“Ugh, no. I need to stand up, get outside, go out to eat. You down?”

I shrugged. “Sure, that sounds fine. You pick.”

Sheen was already tossing on his jacket and making his way towards the door.

“Damn, wait for me,” I said, hurrying myself up. I too threw on the closest jacket to me and followed him as he practically ran towards the elevator. I made sure to enter the code that locked my apartment. He held the elevator door open for me as he waited.

Sheen typed furiously into his WaComm, always the guy with the latest tech. He was known for his tendencies to have the latest gadgets and to have delved deep into their inner workings, always tinkering. He said it was to piss off his parents, who always looked down on his career path of a scientist instead of following in their footsteps of business, but I knew it was something he enjoyed doing. Sheen liked puzzles, figuring things out. Reverse engineering his WaComm was the first thing I would expect from a person like him.

As we walked up to the front door, my car had already pulled up, even though I hadn’t called it yet. I hadn’t entered a destination for us, but here it was.

I sighed. “Was that you?”

Sheen gave me a wide, mischievous grin. Clearly, all of that work he had been doing in the elevator was jacking into my WaComm and calling my car without my knowledge. If he wasn’t my best and oldest friend, I’d feel angry and violated, but since it was him, it was only a little amusing. Despite the years we’d been apart, I still trusted him like I did in the old days.

“Bastard.”

He only grinned wider.

~

We arrived at the restaurant in short order. It was one I hadn’t been to before, which was unsurprising, as it was right on the edge of the Nari’e quarter. I’d been going there more often as of late than I had in my entire life, and it made my efforts at blocking out all thoughts of Mea toss themselves out the window. Everything reminded me of her, every woman peeking around the corner was her at a peripheral glance, making my heart leap and fall with excitement and then inevitable disappointment.

We sat at a table, seated by a bubbly hostess promising our waiter to be out soon. We ordered two shots of ‘Ona as soon as we sat, the hostess delivering the message to the bar.

“Torvo, tell me what’s on your mind. You’re jumpy,” Sheen said, his eyes browsing a menu and not my face.

I reddened, the heat lighting up my cheeks as if they were on fire. “Um, nothing,” I lied.

His eyes flicked up at me, disbelieving. “Dipshit. I’ve known you for years.” He narrowed his eyes at me, squinting and examining closer. “What’s her name?”

I backpedaled. “Uh – you don’t know her, so it doesn’t matter.” Mea would be furious if I told Sheen all about her. I was sure.

“Uh huh. So it’s not the beautiful Alyss Bateman that’s got you all flustered?”

“You know Alyss?”

“Yes, dummy. I saw you dancing with her last night – kudos, by the way, she’s a sweet girl – and I saw her father talking to you after, too.”

“Wait, how do you know them?”

“Have you listened to a word I said? That’s my boss. I work for Aruga United Tech, now, remember?”

“Calm down, not everyone has your memory, asshole,” I said, though we both were teasing. He smiled as if he knew exactly what was going on in my head.

“So, given how things work in our social circle… how did that talk go with Mr. Bateman?”

“AUT pretty much offered to fund my campaign if I ran for Prime Minister when I become Lord. A strange offer, I thought,” I said.

The waitress appeared with our drinks. I grabbed one swiftly and took a swig. We paused our conversation to order. As soon as the polite waitress left, Sheen’s eyes bored into mine.

“That’s not so strange an offer,” Sheen insisted. “We see that all the time, you know that. These sort of contracts, promises, alliances… don’t play dumb. Your father did it.”

I blinked. I had never thought about that. My mother, rest her soul, had been the daughter of another Lord way back in the day. Even my stepmother was the heiress of a prestigious company, one my father now had stock and investments in. Each of those marriages had been to further his political career, though I’d never put much thought into it. Did my father love my mother when they were married? I don’t remember them ever acting coldly to each other, and Cerise always seemed so pleasant around my father. Though she was a good twenty years younger than him. I can’t believe I’d never considered that.

Even worse… was AUT trying to play that sort of card with me? Was Alyss an incentive, a prize, and insurance if I agreed to their offer? The possibilities swimming in my head were overwhelming.

“Do you think I’d have to marry her?” I asked Sheen, barely able to form the thought.

“Dude, maybe not. This isn’t quite like how it was back in the day, nobody can force you to marry anyone against your will. But I’m sure it’s a bit of an assumed promise, maybe even a publicity stunt. They probably expect you to date her, seriously consider her, if nothing else. Did they not mention it?”

“No, nobody mentioned that.”

“Eh, maybe I’m wrong then. Though that’s never happened before,” Sheen joked.

I tried my best to smile at his teasing. After all, he had some good points. Nobody had explicitly said anything about an arranged marriage, but he was right. This was pretty standard in our society, especially for nobility and the rich. Of which I was both. I finished my drink, caught the eye of the waitress, and signified I’d like another. She nodded, returning quickly within a few minutes of awkward silence between myself and Sheen.

I downed my next drink, that same Nari’e alcohol that had gotten me in trouble last time, but I didn’t care. I needed a bit of that numbness to deal with the shock of these realizations from myself and Sheen.

“Anyway, but you said that’s not the girl that was troubling you, before,” Sheen said, eyeing my rapid drinking with a bit of concern. “Though I expect I’ve added her to the list. Sorry.”

“S’okay,” I said. “And you’re right. There’s another girl that’s got my head spinning.” I don’t think Mea would mind me admitting that there was someone I liked to my best friend. It wasn’t as if I would be betraying her secrets, or her identity. I didn’t even know if it was all that secret.

“Well, what’s her name, mate?” He grinned. “Or do I have to get you absolutely plastered before I’ll get it out of you? Just tell me, for the star’s sake.”

“I mean, I’ll get plastered anyway. Sounds fun.” I took another sip of my drink. “But, her name is Mea.”

“Ooh, and how did you meet this Mea?”

“Um, by accident. In the Nari’e quarter, by that one strip club.”

“Mate... is she a stripper?!”

“No! She’s a proper nice girl. She’s fiery, exciting, and so, so, beautiful. Being around her makes me feel like… I don’t know, like life is about more than just going through the motions.”

Sheen raised his eyebrows at me. “She’s got you feeling poetic, my friend. I want to meet her. Can I meet her?”

“Fuck, no!”

“Why not, afraid she’ll like me better?”

“No, asshole, I just…” I sighed. “She doesn’t want people to know about us. Honestly, I don’t even know if we’re an ‘us’ to begin with. I’ve only just met her a few days ago.” A thought occurred to me that since I’d bailed on her yesterday, albeit, not intentionally, that I should get word to her somehow. “We were supposed to see each other yesterday.”

“Oh, and you got held up,” Sheen said sympathetically. “Not your fault, mate. Did you call her?”

“No, I can’t. Don’t have her number.” I tried to remember what had happened when I’d last seen her, but my brain was fuzzy from the alcohol and the memories. I had sort of short circuited when I thought she was going to kiss me.

“Did she tell you where to meet her and stuff?” Sheen asked, curious.

Our food arrived, and we dug in. Between mouthfuls and sips of brew, I answered.

“She did. She did a direct message though to give me the info, so it didn’t leave her contact.”

“Oh, where the WaComms touch and transfer data? Bro, I’ve got you.” He threw down his fork and held out his hand, waiting for something.

“What?”

“Give me your WaComm, dummy,” he said affectionately. “I said, I got you. We can find her number, or something.”

Dumbfounded, I handed it to him. I knew WaComms had intense security, but once you could get into them, you potentially had access to everything about this person. A part of me was excited to learn more about her, even if it was in this strange way. Cause I had no doubt that Sheen was capable.

“Order us some more ‘Ona. This gonna take a minute.” He wore a serious expression, though the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable. This was what Sheen lived for, a challenge, a puzzle to solve, a question to answer. I’d just made his day.

I caught the eye of the waitress and raised our empty glasses, signaling to her that we needed another round. She nodded back, bustling back to the kitchens. I watched Sheen type away, doing whatever you could call his brand of technical magic.

Time inched by as I watched him work; the waitress dropped off our refills, and then again. Sheen typed away, furiously doing whatever he does however he does it. Occasionally he would narrow his eyes in frustration, run his hands through his increasingly messy and tousled dark hair, and tap harder on the WaComm interface.

Though I desperately wanted Sheen to succeed, it felt mostly like I was drinking alone. The glasses were becoming blurrier and blurrier as the waitress dropped off round after round while I waited for him to finish.

“Aha!” he finally said.

He had startled me; I was deep within imagining what ‘Ona would say if it was a person, talking back to me. It was about to tell me the secrets to the universe, when it was so rudely interrupted.

“D’ya get it?”

Sheen looked up with a crazed smile, his mouth stretched wide, his eyes watery. “Here.” He handed me my WaComm back, a set of coordinates blinking, waiting for me to okay the destination. He had set it up for me to request transportation there, to this magic location, somehow related to Mea.