Annie woke with a start.
It had seemed that this day mainly consisted of her waking up in a startled manner, racking her brains for some muddled recollection of what had happened before she was knocked out.
It took a few seconds to remember where she was, and what she was trying to do with a bottle of champagne on her lap. She must have dozed off for about an hour, a few minutes after wolfing down a delicious French breakfast and hot artisanal chocolate. Before that, she had asked for an aspirin, and "accidentally" requested for a bottle of champagne.
She was just wondering what expensive champagne would taste like, and whether it would taste more luscious simply because it was free.
And the strange conductor with the rather squeaky voice acquiesced, without any hesitation, so it was not entirely the end of the world.
What she didn't remember was when there were a few other passengers aside from herself finally perched on the leather seats.
She also didn't remember when a tall, brown-haired handsome man with a rather big forehead sat beside her, gazing at her coyly.
"It seems to me that the beautiful lady has awoken," he said in a suave voice, "with style." He added, eyeing the champagne. "I am Jeffrey Winger, Pierce Hawthorne's personal lawyer. You can call me Jeff."
Annie blinked, a part of her wanting to blurt out that she wanted nothing from lawyers because they were the worst kind of evil – they lie, manipulate, and let bad things happen to good people.
"Annie Edison." She spoke no more than her name, not wanting him to continue further.
"Please, call me Jeff. You looked beautiful while you were sleeping." A side smile lingered on his face, his eyes still observing her. "I assume you're one of them brats who want the multimillion investment deal."
"And what if I am?"
"I would just like to let you know that you wouldn't succeed."
An eyebrow lifted on Annie's face. "You're simply a lawyer, you have no say in these things."
"Pierce listens to me. I'm like his son. Actually, I'm more than like his son. I'm his confidante. And if he were to agree with anything, it would be him investing in my law firm. He's a bit kooky, so I suggest you better just give up now than face the consequences. He could be really, really fucked up about his terms and conditions."
She knew that she had a lot of competitors for the Hawthorne deal, but she had never been threatened like this before. Especially when her façade was a sweet, doe-eyed girl with an innocent nature.
But the champagne probably gave it away.
A girl of her caliber and experience knew she would need to bite her tongue and spill no information whatsoever to this stranger, so Annie said no more and instead observed the other passengers.
There were four more passengers aside from herself and Jeff. There was a dark-skinned lady with a comically huge bag at her side, praying with a rosary. There was a Pakistani man with a tall and thin physique watching TV attentively on one of the front row seats, and beside him was another dark-skinned man about her age, playing with a PSP. A skinny blonde woman with a gaunt expression approached their seats.
"Do you know that there's an oil spill in Guam and the dolphins are on death row while we lie around in our privileged asses arguing about the credibility of pineapples on pizza?"
Annie raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe if you smiled more, we'd reconsider," answered Jeff mockingly.
"I wasn't talking to you, Mr. Stuck Up Forehead. Why are you even here? Ran out of people to lie to?"
"You never stopped being a real charmer."
"You guys know each other?" Annie interjected, confused.
The blonde woman huffed. "Unfortunately, I knew him back in college."
"Spanish class. Occasional hook-ups. She was Blonde #1 in my phone." Jeff reminisced.
"Pig," said the blonde woman, rolling her eyes. "I'm Britta Perry," she added, turning to Annie. "Here for the Hawthorne investment for the Save the Dolphins Foundation."
"Annie Edison. Dart Pharmacy Incorporated."
The Hawthorne Estate must have looked grand and prepossessing in its prime, thought Annie, as she and her traveling companions got off the bus, beholding the gargantuan size of the mansion before them. Time had eaten a good portion of its grandeur, with moss and ivy creeping on the faded walls, cracked pillars, and dust-covered windows. The garden had not been tended for a long time, with most of the plants wilting into oblivion. The oval fountain was dry and grimy.
Jeff smirked and looked at Annie. She tried to seem expressionless. "See what I mean by kooky?"
"You sure this is the right place? It gives me the creeps." The young man who was playing with a PSP asked Dean the conductor.
"How much do you know?" Dean Pelton's face was suddenly littered with nervous sweating. "Troy Barnes, how much do you know?"
The young man whose name was Troy stared in disbelief. "Abed, what do you think?"
He was addressing the Pakistani man who was attentively watching TV in the bus earlier. "I feel like this is going to be a bottle episode," he said in a mechanical voice devoid of emotion. "I hate bottle episodes."
The huge oak door of the Hawthorne mansion opened with a deafening creak.