1 – The Party (1)

 

Jake arrived at Callahan Mansion with his father, Will. It was located in the small town of Gilran, in the state of Jefferson, in the Free States of America. He’d never seen a house so huge. And one person owned it? The government should have taken it, and made it into free housing for people.

“Why does one person need to own a place like this?” Jake asked his father. “There’s people living on the streets, but this guy owns a mansion that could house all of them.”

“The West Wing section is a hotel,” Will said. “People can pay to stay there.”

“Oh, so he profits off of it too.” Jake crinkled his nose. All anyone cared about here was making a profit. It made him miss California, in the Equal States of America, where there were rules and regulations on how much money people and businesses could make. He should have stayed behind, but his father wanted to move his pizza chain here. Jake was supposed to inherit it someday, so his father pressured him into moving with him.

Will opened one of the double doors. “Try not to be rude.”

The foyer was huge. They followed arrows towards a ballroom, where the party was at. The Callahan's weren't celebrating anything special. This party was likely an excuse to show off. Before Jake was born, Will had lived in Gilran, and used to be close friends with them. Once Barry Callahan found out Will had moved back, he sent him an invitation.

The ballroom was obscenely large. Benches and chairs were pushed against the walls, but the middle of the room was free for people to roam and chat. Possibly dance, if there was music playing. The room was filled with the sound of voices instead.

“Will!” a fifty-something year old man appeared with a younger woman on his arm. He had balding gray hair and wore a suit over his plump frame. The woman had long, auburn hair and wore a blue dress with ruffles and frills, along with a bored expression. The man shook Will’s hand. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Will said. “Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself.”

“Sure have. After inheriting this place, I added in a second restaurant. And I started charging guests to use the pools and tennis courts.”

“Smart.”

“I’d say.” The man wrapped his arm around the woman next to him. “This is my wife, Stellaluna. Stella, this is my old friend, Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman said flatly, as though she didn’t care about being there any more than Jake did.

The man finally noticed Jake. “And who is this young man?”

“Jake.” Will clasped his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “My son. Jake, this is Barry Callahan. The owner of the mansion.”

Jake mumbled a “nice to meet you.”

Barry shook his hand. “A pleasure. The last time I saw you, you were a baby. How old are you?”

“20,” Jake answered.

“20!” Barry looked to Will. “Has it really been 20 years since we last saw each other? I could’ve sworn it’s only been 10. I should go back and visit California again. Their government might be run by a bunch of communists, but at least their beaches are nice.”

Jake would rather live in a government run by communists, than a government run by fascists. But he kept his mouth shut.

“It hasn’t been that bad living there,” Will said. “I just hate all the rules and regulations. And now that they've banned additive sugar, my pizza sauce tastes bland. I've lost a lot of customers over it.”

Barry tsked at that. “Isn’t minimum wage going up again too?”

“That, and now we have to give employees another week’s worth of sick time. Like five weeks wasn’t enough. I’d replace them with robots, but then I’ll get hit with even higher taxes. Somehow it’s cheaper to hire people who call in sick every other day.”

“What a shame. Here, I don’t have to give my workers any sick time!”

“What if they get sick?” Jake asked.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I do give them three days of sick time a year. But any more than that, they don’t get paid. And if they get sick too often, well, it’s unfortunate for them. There’s plenty of other people out there who are happy to fill their place.”

Jake checked his watch. He had only been inside the mansion for five minutes and already he wanted to leave.

A woman in a black skirt walked by, carrying a tray of brown, glass bottles with a company logo on it that said “Hendi.” Barry and Stellaluna took one each. Stellaluna tilted her head back, and gulped it down.

“The Henderson brothers gave me crates of this for the party.” Barry said. “They’re testing out a formula for peach flavor.”

Will and Jake grabbed one, and the waitress moved on. The caps had already been removed. Jake peered inside. Whatever it was, fizzled. Was it safe to drink? Stellaluna had no problem downing it.

“It’s soda,” Will said to him. “Try it.”

So this was the mysterious beverage banned in California. His father often talked about how he missed it. Jake took a small sip. The fizzling sensation assaulted his mouth, and it was way too sweet. He nearly spat it out. How much sugar did they put in it?

“What do you think?” Will asked.

Jake tried, but failed, to find a Nutrition Facts label on it. “It should be illegal.”

“That good, huh?” Barry grinned. “The Henderson’s should be here any minute. They’ve got a little sister your age. She is drop-dead gorgeous. I’d take her for myself if I wasn’t already married to this old thing.”

Stellaluna didn’t even flinch at his words. No frown. No eye roll. No fake smile. No comments. Nothing. It was like she had long stopped caring about anything. Jake looked over at his father and mouthed, I want to go home.

 

~~~~~

 

On the other side of town, Sebastian reluctantly followed his parents, Waylon and Celine, towards the front door of their spacious house.

“Do I really have to go?” he asked.

“Yes, you do.” Waylon said as he opened the front door. “I plan on announcing to everyone that I’m running for governor. You being there will make things look better. Especially after that scandal you caused.”

That “scandal” was seven years ago. One would think people would have forgotten about it. But he knew there was truth in his father’s words. Sebastian reluctantly followed him down the front steps, towards the driveway. “Who cares what a bunch of rich snobs think.”

“Those rich snobs will vote for me if they think we’re a loving, happy family.” Waylon made his way towards his car, Celine walking behind him. Sebastian remained stopped.

Waylon turned around, waving his hand. “Come on!”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Stop whining. You sound like a little kid.”

“Because you’re treating me like a little kid! I’m an adult. Legally, I can do what I want.”

“And since you’re an adult, I can legally kick you out. Now move!”

As much as Sebastian wanted to move out, he didn’t have a job to pay rent. So he groaned as he walked over to the car. He climbed into the backseat. Waylon sat in the driver’s seat, and Celine in the passenger’s. Waylon entered the address of Callahan Mansion into the car’s GPS screen, and the car drove off.

They hadn’t even reached the freeway when the car starting thumping, and pulled itself over. Waylon muttered several swear words before getting out of the car to investigate. Then, he opened the driver’s door to give Sebastian and Celine an update.

“It’s definitely a flat. Sebastian, be a man and help me fix it.”

Sebastian knew nothing about cars, but got out to help anyway.

The front passenger tire was completely flat. “There should be a spare in a compartment in the trunk,” Waylon said. He popped the trunk, and they peered inside.

There was a flap at the bottom of the trunk. Waylon lifted it, revealing a large, empty space where a spare tire should be.

“What happened to our spare?” Waylon glared at Sebastian as though he had planned all this.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you steal it? Don’t lie to me.”

“No! Why would I steal a spare tire?”

“Damn it!” Waylon slammed the trunk shut. “We’re gonna have to get it towed to a mechanic, and wait for them to fix it. God knows how long that’ll take.”

Sebastian tried not to smile at his luck. He and his father got back into the car. Waylon tapped a “request tow truck” button on the car’s screen, and followed the instructions. Hopefully it would take a long time to arrive.