Hide-and-Seek

Hide-and-Seek
Sergey Redkin

В центре сюжета повести «Прятки» Алекс Монтегю II, 44-летний наследник некогда богатой семьи, который отчаянно пытается восстановить финансовое положение своей семьи с помощью строительного проекта в поместье их предков, Maple Grove House. Младший брат Алекса, Чарли, исчез 27 лет назад во время игры в прятки, трагедии, которая заставила семью Монтегю покинуть свой величественный английский дом в георгианском стиле и переехать во Францию.Для финансирования своего проекта Алекс получает инвестиции от Джареда Шеннона, американского миллиардера со скрытым прошлым, связанным с Монтекки: мать Джареда, Сьюзен, была семейной кухаркой, уволенной по подозрению в краже незадолго до исчезновения Чарли. По ходу проекта происходят таинственные и жуткие события. «Прятки» идеально подойдут для взрослых, изучающих английский и которым нравятся истории об английской аристократии, больших поместьях и запутанных тайнах.

Sergey Redkin

Hide-and-Seek

hide-and-seek (n.) – a game (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/game) in which several children (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/children) hide (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/hide) while one child (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/child) counts (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/count) to a particular (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/particular) number (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/number) without watching (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/watch) the others (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/others) and then tries (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/try) to find (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/find) them

(Definition of hide-and-seek from the Cambridge Academic Content Dictionary © Cambridge University Press)

Chapter 1

The office was large and looked on-trend opulent–plenty of natural light through large windows, grey walls, black leather furniture and contemporary art on the walls. I couldn’t say that I liked it. I preferred more classical interiors. Be that as it may, it was intended to show, along with its location on the top floor of the highest building in the city, that the owner of this place had a lot of financial power. The April morning sun shone brilliantly in the clear, blue sky, adding saturation to the professional dеcor of a site where tens of millions of multiple currencies were routinely made before some people had their first cup of tea. I was sitting in one of the two very expensive-looking custom-made armchairs at a large coffee table in the part of the office where the owner would want people to feel more comfortable, a few meters away from his big meticulously organized working desk with two big computer monitors. The man I was meeting was one of the most successful money wizards in the City. His name was Jared Shannon, and he was a few years younger than me and a couple of billion dollars richer. The latter fact was annoying, the former was baffling.

Why would a man of his level want to talk to me about my little country project? I mean, I realized I was not an average Joe, but I could hardly be of any personal interest to him unless he micromanaged everything in his company, which was highly unlikely. He had enough people below him in his empire whom I could meet and to get what I wanted without meeting the man. It could only make sense if he was into aristocrats and their lands. Whatever the reason, I was there, and it was all that really mattered at the moment.

I was trying to concentrate and appreciate the moment of this opportunity, but it was proving hard to do because of the hangover I’d tried to suppress with some painkillers before the meeting. It had not been a good idea to go to a party last night and spend half of it flirting with some open-minded young women to schmooze them into a more meaningful conversation in my apartment later. One of them was susceptible to my oratorial skills and I had to wake her early and put her in a cab to give myself enough time to be presentable for this meeting.

“Well, I don’t think I have any more questions,” Jared said, still nonchalantly holding what looked like my proposal. He was a tall man in a good shape in his late thirties with a face that projected intelligence and confidence, sitting in the other armchair in front of me on the opposite side of the table. “Perhaps you’d like to ask me some questions?”

He was wearing an unpretentious but extremely good quality custom-made T-shirt and a pair of jeans, accompanied by a pair of matching Louis Vuitton sneakers. Anyone who didn’t know much about quality outfits wouldn’t even look twice at this man on the street. I, on the other hand, knew a thing or two about sartorial choices that made you stand out among the initiated. Someone had done a decent job putting together this look for him. No watch though. Apparently, he was one of those people who could afford any watch in the world but used his phone to check the time. It said “new money” to me. No tradition yet.

I like to feel comfortable in my outfit as well, but I am not a T-shirt type of person. I had on a nice light brown jacket by Orazio Luciano and a white dress shirt by Jean-Manuel Moreau I had ordered in Paris. I had done a bit of research about Jared’s company, and I knew about their casual attire policy. I could be casual. I was wearing a pair of Luigi Borrelli jeans with a comfortable pair of Tod’s loafers. That was my type of casual. My watch choice was a silver and blue dial Patek Philippe World Time, a platinum-cased reminder of the kind of money my family used to have. It’s something that a watch aficionado would appreciate, a conversation piece, but it would sadly go unnoticed with watch-less folks for sure. I had to look like I had other options for my project besides this one.

“I’m good,” I said, feeling relieved that the meeting was about to be over and looking forward to having a big cup of coffee. “I’d just like to thank you for this opportunity to meet in person.”

I wasn’t really good, but things hadn’t been great recently and this deal was very important to me. I had a few friends with money, but they hadn’t shown any interest in my idea, so it had taken a bit of mingling with people I didn’t care for much. I had been leaving hints here and there that I was developing an idea of using some parts of my family estate for housing construction. Those were the people with good connections and that had led me to securing this meeting, a potential cornucopia of desirable investment, even though I had not expected to get acquainted with the man himself. My idea of building a few cottages for rich people had to seem quite minuscule to him. However, someone once said that everything important begins with something trivial and I surely hoped it would be true in this case. Besides, one must be flexible when it comes to making money these days, even if one with a noble title must turn some of their oldest parks into property slots. I had to roll the dice to restore my financial situation before I would be forced to sell things I would like to keep. Oh, there was this other thing, of course, that I had to remember – my father had told me that it would be my last chance to use the family’s funds which had seen better days. If this thing didn’t work, I would probably have to be forced to take some online courses and study accounting or something. Get an honest job, as it were. But I tried not to let that “little detail” cloud my judgment.

“There’s one thing though.” He looked at me and smiled. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

“Excuse me?”

Jared slapped his knee and chortled. “Man, I was thinking all this time that you didn’t want to mix personal stuff and business, but I can see now that you have no idea who I am.”

This was starting to feel a bit too strange for my taste. I’m not used to people I don’t really know well talking to me in such an informal way. Beggars can’t be choosers though. I’d have to play along for the moment.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I know who you are.” I tried to sound as professional as I could. I even smiled through my teeth. “Have we met before?”

“Yeah, we have.” He stopped laughing. “All right. We know each other from way back.” He looked at me and added: “And when I say, ‘way back,’ I mean all the way to when we were kids. Well, me at least.”

That wasn’t helpful at all, and I ventured another guess. “Did we go to the same school? I think I would’ve remembered you.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Jared stood up and went to his desk. He picked up a photograph in an expensive-looking silver frame and brought it over.

“This is my mother,” he said.

I held the photograph. The woman looked vaguely familiar. She could have been anybody, but I felt that Jared expected me to recognize her.

“I see.”

“She used to work in Maple Grove House,” Jared said, waiting for some sort of a-ha reaction from me. “Susan Shannon?”

“Oh, the cook?” I asked and looked at the photo again. “Of course, Susan. I remember her.”

I remembered the name but had totally forgotten what she looked like.

“So, you must be …” I tried to guess because I couldn’t remember how many children she had.

“Little J,” Jared finished.

“Of course, Little J,” I said looking at him and slowly recognizing the little rascal I used to see around our house when I was a teenager. Susan had one son. It was coming back to me now. Little J and my little brother used to play in our garden. They were kind of friends, I think.

How could I miss this in my so-called research? His last name was still Shannon, for God’s sakes. Why did none of my acquaintances mention that to me?

Now, it was starting to make sense why we were having the meeting in his office instead of a meeting room. For a minute there, I started to foolishly imagine that, perhaps, my “brilliant” proposal wasn’t that infra dig for a tycoon like Jared after all. The meeting was slowly turning into something awkward even for me. I was in the process of getting the coveted financing from the son of our family’s former cook with whom my little brother used to play tag all the time. To make matters worse I failed to recognize him and his mother. This was not what you’d call a “good beginning” for a professional relationship.

Jared took the picture and put it back. There was a short pause that made me a bit more uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to be offended by my poor memory.

“I realize it’s way overdue but I’m sorry about your brother,” Jared said finally. “Charlie was a great boy. I loved him like my own brother.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, relieved that we were talking about something else but, at the same time, hoping that there would be no questions about my little brother. I added just in case there would be more: “We all loved him, and it still hurts to talk about him.”

The office that seemed so vast at the beginning of this meeting seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. Even though money was a rather sensitive subject to me, I tried to focus on my pragmatic objectives to stay calm. I had to get this investment so I could smooth out the consequences of some of my financially disastrous decisions. Not many people were aware of how bad my situation was, and I wasn’t going to reveal it unless it was absolutely necessary. I had been able to keep the pretenses quite well, but I had too many bills that were urgently waiting for my attention.

“Weird though, after all this time … they’ve never found him,” Jared said, not getting my hint.

Chapter 2

I’m in the third-floor corridor that leads to the attic. I’m approaching the stairs and want to check if anyone is up there, but something catches my attention. I’m getting closer to the window, and I see Charlie in his white shirt running away through the garden.

“That’s not fair,” I scream. “We’re supposed to hide in the house. Cheater!”

Charlie can’t hear me. He’s too far away. His shirt disappears behind the old oak trees.

I’m running downstairs after him and then …

I woke up screaming his name.

I sat up in my bed, confused. I hadn’t had this dream for a long time thanks to the therapy that seemed to be working. Why would I suddenly dream about the last time I saw my little brother alive? That stupid meeting with Jared. That’s why.

My therapist used to tell me that the dreams “allow us to consolidate and assess our memories” and dreams of someone we lost “are influenced by some unresolved issues.” He also told me fifteen other possible reasons behind those dreams that I forgot and never tried to remember. We worked a few techniques out with the good doctor for me to “come to terms with the past trauma,” which I’d hoped I didn’t need to do anymore.

It’d been three days since I had that chat with him. No news so far. I supposed I’d have to figure out some other way to get the money if I didn’t hear from Jared’s people within a week. No point in waiting longer than that.

Most of the people around me had been extremely patient with my shenanigans that went all the way back to my school days. Back then, I figured that being the oldest offspring from an old and respected family would be my lucky ticket to whatever successful future I had in mind. Even though it was somewhat out of the ordinary for a boy like me, I started to deal a bit in drugs here and there to increase my allowance and to feel more independent. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the beginning. I didn’t do it to be popular. I was that already and some. It was just an entrepreneurial itch to control my own life, to be above all the rules of the house and instructions you must follow to be “the son your parents can be proud of.” I figured they had Charlie for that, and I could just have a bit of fun on my own before I took over as the successor. After a few small successful deals, I presumptuously started to believe that drugs could turn into some serious enterprise or give me some innovative experience at least. It also gave me the confidence to scale up my operation. Unfortunately, I lost the first batch that I was supposed to get my first big income from. The police mounted an unexpected raid on my boarding school and paid a visit to our dormitory. I was lucky to be able to flush most of the stuff down the toilet and throw the rest out of the window. To pay back the dealers though, I had to secretly sell some things from the house. There was a bit of a situation when it was discovered, but I managed to get away with it. That, however, did not teach me a lesson. I just failed to see the sign that it was not for me. Unexpectedly, I got more money from the sale than I needed and decided to get even more weed to establish myself as a serios player. The future was mine for the taking, I thought. Only the next time I would lose both my weed and my brother.