Sorry i never finished the Dr Who thing, got bored/busy/drunk/insert excuse. Basically its a happy ending and humanities saved. So the same thing doesn't happen again I'm no longer publishing until the full story is complete. Part 2 and 3 for this are written and publishing time with be between midnight and Midday every Thursday. Enjoy :)
Rain drummed against the penthouse windows as Alex shuffled
through the front door, dragging his suitcase meekly behind him. Soaked from
the brief moments in the rain and exhausted from the flight from Canada he let
the front door slam as leaned heavily against the wall to kick of his shoes. He
dropped his hand luggage and walked into the open plan living space. To his
right was the kitchen, straight ahead was the lounge and to the left the dining
table. In the middle of the room a spiral staircase wound up into the lofty
ceiling. Alex couldn’t be bothered to climb the stairs to bed, he merely
dragged his body over to the black leather couch, shrugged off his soaked
jacket and crashed onto the deep cushions. He groaned as he wrapped a blanket
round himself and fell asleep.
He awoke with a start, the intercom was flashing and making
a shrill ringing noise. With the blanket covering his damp head and wrapped
loosely around his he heaved himself of the couch and pattered to the phone
hanging on the wall, he could feel his damp socks on the cold slate floor.
“Yes?” he asked blearily
“Hello, I’m Stephanie, May I come in?”
He buzzed her through the main door and left the front door
open. When Stephanie walked in she found Alexander sitting on the kitchen
counter staring vacantly out at the dreary London sky. His normally neat hair
stuck up at all angles and he had a line of stitching printed on his face from
resting his head on the arm of the couch.
“I’m given to understand that you require a personal
assistant”
Alex nodded and pulled the blanket back over his head like a
hood, hopping gently down off the counter and shuffling off to collapse over
the couch again.
As he lay there face down he was vaguely aware of some clattering
around in the kitchen.
“Here, this should wake you up.”
Alex had been craving coffee since he had first heard the
intercom but his favorite coffee in London came from a small Café in Covent
Garden,
“Too far!” he began to mumble, hearing a mug clang down on
the coffee table
Just the smell of it began to restore Alex, however it
didn’t smell quite like any coffee he had smelt before, it smelt smoky, with a
touch of citrus. He opened one eye curiously and saw a steaming mug sitting
mere centimeters away on the coffee table.
He levered himself up gracelessly and stretched an arm
towards the cup, taking it between his slow fingers he lifted it first to his
eye. It definitely looked like black coffee. He was in no position to be fussy and
so he raised the mug and downed it in one. The mixture singed his tongue as it
ran down his throat, his eyes widened and his fingers began to tingle.
“I say!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He threw off the
blanket and skipped off up the stairs to the bathroom.
When he reappeared Stephanie was sitting at the breakfast
bar, she was a tall girl with dark hair. Though not striking to look at she had
a certain beauty about her accentuated by the pair of red rimmed glassed
perched on the bridge of her nose. She turned to look at him with glittering
hazel eyes,
“Feeling better?” she asked, her voice had a song like quality
to it, a chipper, joyful note, a bright contrast to the miserable weather that
lashed against the windows.
“Rather” Alex responded, slipping onto the chair next to her
in front of a steaming bowl of porridge with a swirl of honey in the middle and
another mug of coffee. He began to mix the porridge while scanning over the
array of papers Stephanie had spread out on the counter.
“Your grocery delivery arrives at eleven this morning, I
have ordered some fabric samples for you to go through, you have to look for a
venue for Henry’s party when he comes back from his gap year and you have an
old boys dinner starting at seven pm. Your father is also taking you to lunch,
he thinks its time you started to make something of yourself.” Alex’s mouth
began to protest when she shushed him quietly and began to run through list of nightclubs
and function rooms she had compiled. Glad of the change of subject Alex sat
happily looking down the short list amazing at how quickly Stephanie had picked
up the ball and started to run with it.
The lecture had begun almost immediately, Alex had never
known his father to raise his voice, but when he got irate his ears would go
red and he would rap his knuckles on the table. Daniel Arthurs was close to
this point now, his short muscular frame filled his tailored suit, the years of
desk work hadn’t shown on his midriff and his hands were hard and callused from
weekend sailing. The only thing he had in common with the run of the mill
executive was his salt and pepper hair.
“You are becoming a drone Alexander. A useless lay about and
I can’t stand to have doing nothing any longer.” His knuckles tapping the table
in time with his words. Alexander smiled at the P.G. Wodehouse reference however
his father didn’t appreciate it. “What’s so funny? Your Brother is going to
make partner at Anderson and Tate, your sisters doing well at IBM and all you
have done since finishing sixth form is play around with your investments and
bounce from country to country like a playboy!”
“I made twelve thousand pounds last quarter.” Protested
Alex, a look of surprise briefly passed across his fathers face.
“How much of your trust fund have you got in stocks?” asked
Daniel, leaning in close to his son.
“One hundred thousand” responded Alex nonchalantly. Daniels
eyes widened a little in amazement at Alex’s response. He sat back in his chair
a little bewildered.
“You are returning over double what my investments manager
is,” he mumbled shaking his head. “But its still not enough to support you
should that go wrong. You still need to find a proper job. I’m canceling your
credit cards on Tuesday. You are on your own with your trust fund from now on.”
They table fell awkwardly silent for a little while after
their food arrived,
“The next thing is this charitable donation you made in
Canada. Why didn’t you talk to me before using money from the foundation?”
Alex took a minute to explain the touching causes he had
heard about in the speeches, grateful that he had been paying attention for
once. He put special emphasis on an imaginary donation deadline. His father
already thought him reckless with money. He didn’t want to further aggravate
his father’s suspicions by telling him he to donate quickly to rub it in the
face of a fat man wearing a Lamborghini shirt.
His fathers Bentley roared off down the sodden street as
Alex stood in the restaurants foyer waiting for the Maître d to call him a cab,
Alex liked to talk to this Maître d because he found the mans French accent
quite entertaining.
“There is no need for a taxi sir, there is a car for you
outside.”
When Alex stepped through the door he saw his black Range
Rover Sport sitting by the curb. He looked through the passenger window and saw
Stephanie at the wheel, waving for him to hurry up.
“Groceries sorted, Lunch done, and there’s the short list of
venues” She deposited his IPad into his lap and swung the car out onto the
road.
“How did you know my passcode?” he asked, she merely smiled
coyly and kept here eyes firmly fixed on the road.
