The first time Roxy saw the young man she'd gone downstairs to fetch herself a glass of water. Thirst had woken her up in the middle of the night, and after putting on her white furry slippers she'd wandered into the long, dark corridors of the Morton mansion. She must have looked like a ghost in her white silk nightgown, loose brown locks cascading down her shoulders. It was eerily quiet, with a silver moonlight casting shadows on the old paintings on the walls.
She eventually reached the wide marble stairs that led downstairs. They were her favorite part of the house, as in her mind they resembled those in the mansion from Gone with the Wind. While walking downstairs, Roxy thought about how much she loved her family's home; tall white pillars and marble floors furnished with the finest Persian rugs and antique furniture. Indeed, the Morton's had good taste.
As she approached the ground floor, she could hear laughter coming from the living room located on the right side of the stairs. Yellow light was pouring out of the open door, the smell of cigars escaping into the main hall. It wasn't uncommon for her father to keep guests until late into the night, talking business or just having a glass of brandy while sharing a laugh. Normally she would just ignore them and go straight into the kitchen, but this time a faint curiosity stirred in her gut, and she decided to go towards the merry voices.
Roxy quietly approached the open door, discreetly peeking into the room. There she saw her father's usual guests, all dressed in their finest suits: his father's best friend and business partner Mr. James Lancelot, the Pendragon brothers, Hector the banker, Tristan, Lionel, and…
Roxy frowned. She didn't recognize the young man in a hoodie and snapback. Unlike the other men who were laying on couches or big arm-chairs, the mysterious boy was quietly standing behind one of the leather sofas.
She was staring at him full of curiosity, when suddenly a little dog, which had been asleep under one of the armchairs, woke up, and immediately smelled her owner. The tiny black poodle sprung up to her feet and started to run towards Roxy, yapping in uncontrollable excitement.
The men stopped talking abruptly and turned their heads towards the door. Roxy had now entered the room, having been discovered by the excited puppy. She looked slightly embarrassed, like a child who's been caught red-handed stealing from the cookie-jar.
''Roxanne!'' Percival Morton exclaimed, surprise in his voice.
''What are you doing up, child?'' His initial surprise had now faded and his voice sounded more affable. Mr. Morton loved his only daughter fiercely, and had never in his life been mad at her.
''Um, I just came downstairs to fetch a glass of water and I heard voices... Forgive me if I interrupted you.'' She lightly bowed her head in the men's direction, not so much as a sign of apology, but to hide the faint red spreading across her cheeks. It annoyed her that her father had referred to her as 'child' in front of the other men.
The men stared at her for a moment, until Mr. Lancelot, who'd apparently had a glass too many, started cheerily slurring and making small talk in an effort to dissuade the awkwardness of the situation.
''Look at my beautiful goddaughter! Roxanne, how are you? Hope we didn't wake you up; oh, my dear, we were just talking business, and your father finally agreed to give us a taste of this fabulous brandy of his. Come closer! Here my darling, have a glass, just a small one…''
''Lancelot...'' There was a warning in Mr. Morton voice, and he gave his business partner a sharp look.
''Oh, you're right, you're right, dear Percival! The girl is not yet eighteen, but soon she will, right? Your birthday is in two weeks, right, Roxy? Ooh they grow up so fast...''
Mr. Lancelot went on and on, reminiscing about the good old days when his goddaughter was just a wee little baby girl in nappies. Meanwhile Roxy was growing increasingly embarrassed, as she now noticed she was standing in the middle of the living room, in front of his father's friends, in a very light silk nightgown. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Despite her embarrassment, she could not help stealing small glances at the mysterious boy standing behind Mr. Lancelot's armchair. When Roxy had examined him from the door, she'd thought he looked a bit rugged, dressed very casually in a yellow hoodie, black jeans, and white sneakers. However, after taking a closer look, she now noticed the lad was actually quite handsome. He had big hazel eyes, a sharp jaw, and a lean, yet strong-looking body. The young man stood stoicly, with his hands clasped behind his back, looking straight ahead. Roxy noticed herself staring, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her feet, embarrassed. Lucky for her, her father and his friends were too deeply immersed in Mr. Lancelot's nonsense to notice the inappropriate glances, and were now trying to take the bottle of brandy out of his hands.
''I think you've had enough for a lifetime, Lancelot'', Tristan laughed, trying to grab the bottle from his hands.
''I will decide when I've had enough you Scottish pri...'' Mr. Lancelot angrily dodged Tristan's approaching hands and swiftly swung the bottle to his left. Unfortunately, Mr. Lancelot was so drunk that he lost his grip on the bottle, making the 50-year old Dutch brandy fly up into the air.
Those present barely had time to gasp in horror, when something quite extraordinary happened. With a grace almost unprecedented, the young man who'd been standing behind Mr. Lancelot took a couple of quick steps to his left, and with one strong hand reached to catch the bottle.
''Goodness gracious, Lancelot, you idiot!'' Lionel barked. ''Do you know how hard that brandy is to come by!?''
''Easy, Lionel. Why don't we all just calm down. This fine young fellow here just saved the night for all of us'', Mr. Morton laughed, trying to make light of the situation. To be honest, he couldn't care less about the bottle of brandy. He was far more interested in the young man who had just shown reflexes like Mr. Morton had never seen before.
''Oh…oh I'm so sorry my friends…'' Mr. Lancelot now looked greatly embarrassed, and he buried his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. His low mood didn't last long, though, and he quickly sprang his head back up again, resuming his babbling.
''Oh, lovely Roxanne, I just realized how rude I've been! Here, let me introduce you to Mr. Unwin. Come, Gary, this is my lovely goddaughter right here…''
The young man had put the bottle down on the table next to Mr. Morton (who had immediately gotten up to store it safely back into the liquor cabinet next to the fire-place).
Roxy approached her godfather and the young man standing on his left. With a polite smile she extended her hand to him, and the boy shook it while returning the smile.
''Pleased to meet you, Mr. Unwin''
''Likewise, Ms. Morton.''
Roxy could have sworn the young man had given her a quick once-over, but now Mr. Lancelot's slurring was once again claiming their attention.
''Indeed…he is a fine lad this one. He started working for me recently, you see, ever since Matthew had that accident…do you remember Matthew my bodyguard? He got shot in the leg, you see, needed someone to replace him until he gets better. The bullet went straight through his…''
''Lancelot! That's enough!'' Mr. Morton's voiced resonated in the room. He wasn't someone who lost his patience easily, but tonight he was being thoroughly tested. ''There's no need for gruesome details'' He continued, giving Lancelot a disgusted look.
''Oh, oh don't worry, Matthew is fine, you know, it was just a silly hunting accident…'' There was a look of panic in Mr. Lancelot's eyes as he tried to explain himself, but he kept tripping over his words, causing everyone present even more second-hand embarrassment.
There seemed to be no end to Mr. Lancelot's nervous ramblings, so after giving each other a complicit look, the Pendragon brothers lifted him up from the couch, and between the two, started walking him towards the door, followed by Mr. Unwin the bodyguard.
''Perhaps we should call it a night, eh, old chap?''
Mr. Lancelot didn't answer Joe Pendragon, but instead kept on babbling while the two brothers practically dragged him away.
One by one Mr. Morton's friends got up, and as they walked past Roxy they all respectfully bowed their heads, wishing the young lady a good night.
Roxy and Mr. Morton were the last ones to leave the room, and before joining the men at the bottom of the large marble stairs, he kissed his daughter goodnight and told her to hurry to bed. Roxy complied, and she quickly ran up the stairs, but before disappearing into the hallway, she turned around to look at the men one more time. Mr. Lancelot seemed to have sobered up a bit, and he now insisted he could walk on his own. No one tried to stop him, and her father's friends proceeded to put on their long coats and say their good-byes to their host. Roxy was looking at the parade of black overcoats, when she noticed the young bodyguard looking at her. She turned her head to meet his gaze, and as their eyes locked he winked and flashed her the cheekiest grin she'd ever seen. Roxy quickly turned around and, embarrassed, walked hurriedly to her room. As she slipped under the covers of her ample bed, she realized her thirst was now completely gone.
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When Eggsy and Mr. Lancelot walked out of the Morton family mansion, Mr. Lancelot's chauffeur was already waiting for them in the patio. Eggsy opened the door of the black Mercedes so his employer could stumble into his seat, walking then to the other side of the car to let himself in. The chauffeur drove away slowly, and before they exited the gates, Eggsy turned his head around to look at the mansion one more time. He'd been greatly impressed when they'd first arrived. He thought the house was even more grandiose than that of Mr. Lancelot; a white, 3-storey mansion with big, Victorian styled-windows and marble pillars going all around it. Eggsy thought it looked just like one of those temples he'd seen in his school history books, where the ancient Greeks worshiped the gods. But what had truly impressed the young man was what he'd seen inside the mansion…
Eggsy had noticed the girl standing at the door way before the little dog had revealed her presence to the other men in the room. She had probably thought her 'discreet' staring had gone completely unnoticed by him. He didn't mind the staring, though. Why would he? The girl was, in fact, very lovely. As she'd stepped into the room she'd looked like a Greek goddess in her white silk gown. Of course, they didn't pay Eggsy to stare at his employer's goddaughter, so he'd kept his eyes glued to the wall in front of him, only occasionally looking at her from the corner of his eye.
They soon arrived to Eggsy's neighborhood in South-East London. Mr. Lancelot hadn't stopped rambling about 'that damn, slippery brandy bottle' throughout the journey, and Eggsy had stopped listening a long time ago. He thought his employer was an okay fellow most of the time, but when he was drunk he could turn quite intolerable. Eggsy jumped out of the car and said his goodbyes to the half unconscious Mr. Lancelot and the chauffeur, promising to meet his employer tomorrow at his house at 08.00 o'clock sharp.
As he made his way towards the gray apartment blocks, Eggsy tried to remind himself why he had accepted this job. A high pile of unpaid bills had been stacking up on the kitchen counter of the Unwin residence. Poor Michelle was having a tough time making ends meet working as a part-time cleaner while trying to take care of little Daisy. Eggsy had told his mum she didn't have to worry, that he'd get a job and everything would be all'ight.
Unfortunately, the truth was that Eggsy had a lot of trouble landing a job, any job. Most employers out there didn't want to hire someone whose record showed a history of theft and drugs. Jamal and Ryan had joked that he should become a rent boy; with such a pretty face there would be no shortage of clients. Eggsy had told them to fuck off, obviously, but he'd been lying if he'd said he hadn't considered it. Sleeping with middle-aged cougars and bored housewives didn't seem like such a daunting task, especially if it meant he could feed his family and keep a roof over their heads.
But just when he was about to get desperate, the tall man in the Armani suit had come into the picture. Mr. Lancelot had found him standing outside of the Black Prince pub on a rainy Friday night. Eggsy was leaning against a brick wall, knuckles bruised after yet another fight with his step-dad's friends, who'd been once again running their mouths about his mum. A cigarette was dangling from his busted lips, and his swollen right eye was starting to turn blue.
''A bit of this and that?'' Eggsy repeated the man's words in a scornful tone, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. ''You're not looking for a rent boy are you? 'Cause they are all down there on Smith street''. He took a long drag off his cigarette, blowing a smoke ring into the face of the tall, suit-clad man.
The man didn't react to the smoke clouding his face in any way. Instead, he gave out a hearty chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face.
''Don't worry, your duties won't include touching anyone's genitals. I'm just looking for some muscle. Your official title would be that of a bodyguard, but… I may need your help dealing with all sorts of matters…''
Eggsy discreetly scrutinized the man with his eyes. He could see he was carrying a gun under his jacket, and judging by the way he carried himself, Eggsy suspected the man standing in front of him had military training. Having himself served in the marines, Eggsy was good at spotting the small clues.
He told his mom he had landed a job as security staff at a local night club. She didn't need to know the truth, all that mattered was that he had a job that payed. And he desperately needed said job. This time Eggsy wasn't gonna let it all go to shit like he'd done previous times…