The Valet's Affair
Chapter One: The Prime Minister's Sister
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
The redhead sighed quietly, rising and straightening his black uniform as a large, silver Volvo pulled into the drive. It was his third car today, and he'd only started his shift ten minutes ago.
Allen had better get back quickly in case another car showed up. Most of the flights carrying foreign delegates were arriving at the airport. They were to check in at this particular hotel he worked at and wait for the date to arrive, indulging in the luxuries the country had to offer. The twenty year-old found it relatively stupid, considering the World Peace Declaration Meeting would only come in a week.
To top it off, the holiday season had just begun.
The twenty year-old sighed as he approached the silver Volvo.
The door opened, and a stout man emerged from the driver's seat of the large vehicle.
He hobbled over, a distasteful expression on his face.
"You'd better not leave a single scratch on this car, you rat."
Lavi smiled warmly, fake though it was.
He had seen it coming; the snobbish natures of his customers were no abnormal occurrence.
"I won't, sir."
The customer grunted.
"Good. If I find even a tiny scratch on this vehicle when I come back for it, your ass will be served to the higher ups on a silver platter, and you'll be sucking your mother's tits as soon as you go crying home."
"Yes, sir. May I have your name, so that I may address the car keys to you correctly later? They shall be delivered up to your room after you have checked in."
His voice was smooth, polite.
He had no idea how he had managed to stay sane these past three months with the attitude of these people, and how he had to stay calm and polite all the time.
'It's because Gramps needs this.'
And it was one good thing about not having parents.
Parent insults didn't have any effect on him.
It was just annoying to be talked to in such a disrespectful way.
He was human too, after all.
'But if they hadn't abandoned me in the first place, I wouldn't be in this situation.'
Oh well. No use brooding over those morbid things now.
"Morgan Spencer."
The man grunted as his wife and two daughters emerged from the car, all similarly obese.
"Thank you, sir."
At that instant, he caught the two rotund girls giggling and nudging each other, staring at him all the while. Common occurrence as this was, Lavi felt uncomfortable all the same.
The redhead stepped into the car as Chaoji, a porter, stepped up to retrieve the snob's luggage from the car's boot.
Lifting the suitcases gingerly and placing them on the trolley carefully, Chaoji handled the suitcases well.
"You'd better not drop anything, you rat!"
Was it just him, or did anyone who served this arrogant man become a 'rat'?
"No, sir. I will not."
Chaoji flashed the man a smile which went unreturned. The poor lad was given an unsightly, rude snort in reply.
The car boot slammed shut with a soft click.
Lavi shook his head as the family of snobs entered the lobby, his boss' words echoing in his ear; "The customer is always right. Never talk back to the customer, and no matter what they may say, keep your temper in check."
How frustrating.
The redhead's foot eased on the accelerator lightly, and the car engine purred, pushing forward smoothly. From his peripherals, Allen, in all his white-haired glory, emerged from the car park stairwell.
The redhead raised his hand in greeting from within the massive vehicle, to which Allen responded with a grin and a wave.
Lavi pondered Allen's presence at the valet services. He was only seventeen, after all. A kid at that age should be at school.
At that, the twenty year-old's heart wavered, and his chest tightened painfully.
At his age, the redhead had been brilliant in his studies. However, forced by cruel fates controlling the rollercoaster that was his life, he had been cut out of university life and into the sloppy shadow of valet servicing.
Every day, these thoughts plagued him.
It was getting unbearably sickening to think about.
His grandfather, initially in his place, working as a valet himself, had recently taken ill. Although the doctors and hospital crew had managed to get his situation under control, the treatment and medicine were pricey. Lavi had to work. Thankfully for him, his driver's license, attained the year before, allowed him to stand in for his grandfather at his old high-paying job - considering the hotel's five-star status – and earned them enough money to just get by.
The redhead had decided instead to take a scholarship examination to get back into university free of charge when this was all over and old Bookman was better. Before that, though, he'd definitely get the old man to retire. He'd work part time after school to cover the rent and cost of daily necessities.
Lavi shut the engine off distractedly, withdrawing the keys from the ignition before locking the car with the click of a button and a beep.
He strolled lazily back to reception, taking the stairs in the dark, musty stairwell two at a time. He left the keys and the fat snob's name with Noise Marie, the receptionist on duty.
Just as he sat down, once more awaiting the arrival of another car which needed to be parked, a black limousine slowed to a stop in front of him.
Allen wasn't around; he had probably taken another vehicle down to the basement to be parked.
Lavi was tempted to throw his hands up in irritation.
It was such a busy day. Cars coming in one after the other.
He rose again, vaguely annoyed, and opened the limousine door.
Surprisingly enough, the limousine turned out to be a taxi limousine.
Lucky for him.
He held open the door as a dark-haired man dressed in a white suit and tie stepped out.
This man held an aura of significance and dignity. He was probably someone of high status in society, Lavi figured.
He did look vaguely familiar, though.
Then again, he was probably just like all the other snobs.
But there was a difference.
He wore a kind expression.
"Thank you, Mr…" the man glanced down at the redhead's nametag, "Bookman."
Said redhead was utterly shocked. He had never encountered polite snob. Then again, being polite, this person couldn't be classified as a snob anymore.
"Uh, you're welcome, sir."
The bespectacled man walked past him to open the boot of the car.
"Ah, sir, I'll help with your baggage! You need not do it yourself."
He dashed round to the rear of the car and began helping the kindly man with his luggage.
He lifted the first suitcase out onto the ground.
"You're rather kind, Mr Bookman. Thank you for your help."
He flashed the man a smile.
"It's fine, sir. This is my job."
Boots clicked softly on the cobblestone drive.
"Older brother, I'll go ahead and check into reception, if that's alright?"
The door of the taxi limousine closed with a light bang as a second figure appeared beside the white-suited man.
The maiden was fair, her skin porcelain, contrasting to the waist-length jet black hair that hung down from her head in straight locks. She was dressed in a long ladies' trench coat and a lavender turtleneck, her hands tucked into pockets against the cold weather. She had a heart-shaped face, and the most appalling eyes he had ever seen.
"Please do, Lenalee. Thank you very much."
Then Lavi's green eye met the violet orbs of the man's apparent sister.
He looked away immediately, feeling it wasn't his place to be looking at her.
She was beautiful, but they were probably worlds apart.
The girl turned away, strolling away to the lobby before her brother, just as Alistair Krory, another porter, hurried out from behind automatic glass doors with a gold trolley.
He reached them just as the ebony-haired maiden, Lenalee, disappeared behind one-way reflection glass doors.
"I'll take it from here, Lavi."
"Thanks."
He had just finished removing all the bags from the taxi limousine boot.
"Sir, perhaps, you might want to stand back? The car exhaust is most unhealthy."
Krory continued to lift the luggage onto the trolley as Lavi closed the boot, the important man backing away slightly onto the marble platform.
The taxi limousine drove off.
"Thank you, Mr Bookman, Mr Alistair, for your services."
The well dressed man offered them a warm smile.
"I will mention your names to the management."
Lavi was astounded. This sort of thing had never happened to him before.
"T-Thank you, sir."
The bespectacled man faced away, sauntering away at a leisurely pace.
The redhead hesitated before daring to speak again.
"U-Um, sir."
Said person turned to face him.
"Yes?"
"If you wouldn't mind my asking… You seem very familiar, so, if I may ask… Who are you?"
Krory gawked at him from behind the bespectacled man.
Lavi blinked.
The kind expression on the other's face turned to one of faint curiosity ad surprise.
"Mr Bookman, I would think you are rather poorly informed."
Lavi felt he had stepped into the wrong zone.
"I am the Prime Minister."
A/N: Hello, hello! I've written another! Apparently, I'm hooked on Lavi/Lenalee, and it's high time I got writing again. ^_^
In this fic, they're all two years older than their ages in the actual anime/manga. I hope you liked it. ^_^
Please leave a review and tell me what you think? ^_^