April TwelfthMature

It was the blinding afternoon light that woke Adam from his deep and uninterrupted sleep; he laid there under the blankets for another ten minutes, sleeping for six minutes of it and finally after another half hour he rolled out of bed. He stared at the digital clock beside his bed for three minutes trying to make his brain connect the dots to tell him exactly what time it was, finally after another minute though his brain finally told him that it was fifteen minutes past three. Groaning loudly at the prospect of walking Adam staggered to the clean white bathroom and slowly took a shower, he wanted to go back to sleep but he knew that he had to look after Fiona, if she was still sleeping on the couch. Getting out of the shower and changing into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt he looked at himself in the mirror. His dark chocolate hair was messy, his dark brown eyes had light purple bags under them and Adam knew that he really needed to shave. Yawning Adam walked downstairs; he could hear a vacuum wheeze as it sucked up crumbs and dirt and he could hear two people laugh and talk loudly.

Stopping at the landing Adam watched as his two maids vacuumed and dusted his apartment; it had been a little over a week since they had cleaned his apartment and Adam was comforted enough to know that they had finally remembered. Walking to the kitchen Adam tried to bite his tongue from saying something snarky to his two maids, he was too lazy to find other cleaners, and instead he poured himself a bowl of cereal. In the lounge again Adam finally noticed that Fiona had left, the blanket was folded neatly on the red plush couch and a pink note was leaning against the crystal vase. Placing his bowl on the coffee table in front of him Adam quickly took the pink note; he could lightly smell her perfume on the note, it was sickeningly sweet and made Adam feel nauseous and sick.

Thanks a million sweetheart. I owe you one.

The note was ended by a love heart and a smiley face, Adam shook his head and scrunched the pink note into a small ball, he hated people who drew smiley faces, it was as if the person thought he failed to connect the tone of the message. Fiona was a nice enough girl, but Adam was tired of her already, there was only so much patience in him to wait for her to want to have sex with him and there were only so many opportunities in which he could get her drunk enough to do so. He of course was not one of those men who took advantage of drunken girls; the level of drunkenness was mutual and so both of them would forget the sexual encounter in the morning anyway.

After eating all of his cereal Adam went back to the kitchen and made a strong black coffee, the smell of the coffee beans reawakening him to a normal functioning state. Adam hardly got hangovers, he was young and fit, and therefore he never experienced the pounding headache or the morning after vomit. Hangovers were for old people or those who failed at holding their liquor or those who were too scared of being absolutely maggot. He was the expert of drinking; he could down a jaeger bomb in less than forty seconds, he could take two shots of absinthe without being totally wasted and he could drink a mixture of cocktail shots without throwing it all back up.  At nightclubs bartenders were usually astounded at the quantities of alcohol Adam could drink, but usually they ended up kicking him out when he became too much of handful whilst being drunk. So, naturally, Adam made a reputation of himself for being the Ultimate Drinker; no one could drink him under the table. Adam had to admit that he was quite pride of the title bartenders had given him, usually bartenders only see customers as drunken idiots, but not Adam, they respected and almost loathed him. He knew they respected him because he gave them business and cash, but they loathed him because he would usually break something whilst being as blind drunk as a bat.

It was a love-hate relationship. 

Finishing his coffee Adam went to the front door to collect any letters that came in during the morning, a pile of letters were stacked neatly on the coffee table beside the front door and hastily he looked through each of them. Bills, bills, bills, hate mail, hate mail, love letter and an invitation. Opening the gold emboldened invitation Adam read it carefully, hoping that it was invitation from Oprah or the Queen, alas, the world was cruel to him yet again and instead the invitation was from his parents for their twenty-seventh wedding anniversary. He groaned loudly at the prospect of yet another way for his parents to bore him completely to death, he sighed and read the invitation through quickly, finding out that the anniversary party was going to be held on April twelfth...

“Julia, what day is it today?” Adam asked as Julia – a maid with greying light brown hair – walked past him with the duster in her hand. She stared at him for a moment before walking to a painting on the other side of the wall.

“It’s the twelfth today; you haven’t checked the mail for a week.”  She told him bluntly, not even trying to conceal the dislike she felt towards him, however, he ignored it and stared at the invitation again “shit!”

As fast as he could Adam ran upstairs and got changed into his casual black suit and thin black tie, swearing angrily and loudly every time he missed a button on his shirt or tied the tie weirdly. He was angry at his parents for not ringing him up anyway to make sure he was coming; he failed to see why parents forget to tell their children anything. Whilst he was changing Adam thought of good excuses to tell his parents as to why he was late for their anniversary and why he had not bothered to give them a present. However, all of the excuses that he came up with seemed insincere and he knew his father would see straight through any lie that Adam could come up with. In fact the only plausible excuse that he could give them would be something about the traffic and how bad it is.

Finishing off by brushing his teeth and shaving, Adam quickly ran downstairs and out the door, he smiled as his ever loyal driver, Paul Hammond, sat waiting in the limo ready to drive away. Getting in the car they slowly pulled out of the street and soon on the main highway, sometimes making good distances and others they barely crawled an inch in the density of the traffic.

It took almost an hour before Adam arrived at Syon Park, the off white and almost cream colour of the building was nothing special and the glass dome that was reminiscent of St. Paul’s Cathedral was nothing special anymore.  

The End

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