1 – Emanuel.
"Emanuel," a gentle voice whispered into the sleeping man's ear. He groaned and began to stir as felt the heat of a warm body lying next to him. Emanuel tried to open his eyes, but the light in the room was too bright, and he quickly shut them again as his head started to throb horribly. He rolled over and rubbed his face into his pillow, but before sleep could consume him, the voice beside him started up again, "It's time to wake up, sleepy head."
He can tell that the voice belonged to a woman, but other than that Emanuel could not tell from voice alone who the woman was. He slowly opened his eyes again and ran them over the naked woman sharing his bed. Her red hair was fanned out around her, and it seemed to dance as the light of the afternoon sun fell upon it through the open windows. Her full lips were pressed into a smile as she gazed at Emanuel contently. Her soft legs were intertwined with his, and in their close proximity he could still smell her sweet perfume that she wore the night before. Looking at her, Emanuel couldn't help but smile to himself.
He ran his hand absentmindedly over his torso as he tried to recall the events of last night, and judging from the girl beside him, it must have been a good one. He silently congratulated himself on his conquest, as he looked desirously into her eyes.
For Emanuel, there was no greater feeling than waking up next to a beautiful girl, who had fallen unashamedly in love with him overnight, and having no clue who they are. As the girl began to stroke Emanuel's blonde hair, he struggled to remember her name. He must have met her in Aux Folies last night, maybe he told her that he was an artist, or a doctor, or the multi-millionaire playboy. He smiled to himself again. These were only a few of the variety of pick-up lines he used in order to impress the naïve women of Paris. Some lines worked better than others, and ironically it was the persona of the rich playboy which took the most convincing: despite it being true. Anyway, it was much more exciting to pretend to be someone else, why admit to being a filthy rich man with loose morals, when he could pretend to be somebody else?
He pulled the girl closer to him, wanting something to ground him and hold him as the extent of his hangover began to kick in. Kissing her forehead, Emanuel's face contorted as his head began to thump relentlessly. He could hear a male voice shouting, begging to be heard, but assuming it to be the voice of the conscience, Emanuel had no trouble ignoring it as he sought sleep once more. Yet the voice grew louder, and was joined with the shouts of others. Just as Emanuel realised that the voices he heard were within his apartment and not his head, his bedroom door swung open violently.
Emanuel sat up with a start, and the girl beside him gave a small yelp as she quickly covered her body with the lily-white, satin bed sheets.
"I told you Sir, the young master is sleeping and will not receive visitors until the evening!" exclaimed the feeble voice of their long serving butler Stefan. However, he was being completely ignored by the tall man in the door way.
The small butler continued to babble at the intruder, threatening him with calling security, but the stranger continued to ignore him. He pushed past Stefan, who huffed away as he stepped through the threshold into Emanuel's room. There was a long moment of silence as the tall, dark haired man locked eyes with Emanuel. The uninvited guest took notice of how much Emanuel had changed since he had last seen him. He was older, broader and much more muscular than he was when they together played as boys.
Yet as the intruder took in Emanuel's boyish face, squinting at him through his hangover, he could not help but smile as he remembered the trouble they used to get into together as teens. Although those days of drinking and debauchery were a distant memory for the tall man, as his eyes darted from Emanuel to the beautiful woman lying next to him, it looked like his friend had not changed as much as he first thought.
Emanuel had quite forgotten his banging head, dry mouth, and the woman next to him as he studied the man who had so suddenly appeared in his room. Despite still sitting on the bed, Emanuel could tell that the man was at least half a foot taller than him. The intruder's thick black hair was hanging over his face, resting above his hazel eyes. He was dressed plainly; a carefully ironed white shirt tucked into his dark, denim jeans. His large black boots were compressing the expensive shag-pile carpet which lined Emanuel's bedroom floor. Although he did not immediately recognise the man, Emanuel did not feel threatened by his sudden appearance in his bedroom. Looking to his guests' dark, hairy chest, Emanuel saw a signet ring hanging around his neck on a gold chain. He remembered how they had procured it together, in a poker game in some dive bar in London, and how after all their efforts it was too small to fit around his friends large fingers. He smiled.
"Nikos!" Emanuel cried as he leapt towards his old friend, breaking the silence between the two best friends. He embraced Nikos in a tight bear hug, trying to remember how many years it had been since he had last seen his friend. He only pulled away when Nikos slapped him on his behind, reminding him just how naked he was. They grinned at each other and fell into a fit of laughter.
"How are you doing, my old friend?" Emanuel asked as he threw on a fresh pair of boxer shorts. Without waiting for an answer, Emanuel threw himself once more at his companion, feeling giddy and excited that his friend should be here after their years apart. Despite only coming up to Nikos's shoulder, his didn't stop Emanuel from throwing his arms around his friends head and pulling him down easily into a half nelson. Emanuel ruffled Nikos's hair as his friend laughed; they had been like brothers to each other throughout their childhoods. Emanuel was relieved that that they still felt comfortable in each other's company, and their brotherly bond had so easily slipped back into place after all their years apart.
"Bloody hell, you're stronger than I remember!" grunted Nikos as he attempted to grapple Emanuel onto the bed and break free of his grip.
"Hey! You don't get to look as good as me without lifting a few weights," said Emanuel through clenched teeth. It may have sounded big headed, but it was true. The man looked like a God. With nothing to do to fill his days Emanuel had spent most afternoons working on his appearance. He enjoyed his muscular, athletic body just as much as the ladies who approached him every night at his local haunts.
Both men grunted as Nikos wrestled to get free of Emanuel, and they ungracefully toppled onto the bed when Emanuel finally relaxed his grip. Instead of accepting defeat, this lull in their fight was all the opportunity Nikos needed to pounce on top of his friend, laughing all the while as he punched his friend repeatedly in the side. The bed shook, and the red headed woman let out a cry as the men rolled onto her legs and toppled her out of the bed. Neither of them took any notice however, as they continued to wrestle like young boys.
Panting for breath, Nikos eventually accepted defeat and flopped onto the bed, as Emanuel stood up and settled himself on a chair opposite where his friend lay. Emanuel still couldn't believe that his friend was here, and began to bombard him with all the questions that filled his head.
"It's good to see you brother. But what are you doing here? Last I heard you were living the dream in the motherland?"
Nikos laughed, both he and Emanuel bonded as children over their shared Greek heritage. Yet neither of them had ever set foot there, growing up with their parents in London, and they always used to dream about the adventures they would have in Greece, the motherland. When they were teenagers they made a pact to fly over to Greece when they were old enough and open a bar by the sea, where they could watch the girls sunbathe on the beach by day and drink all night. To them, escaping their boring life and moving to their motherland was a shared dream. Yet, it was never one that became a reality. When they graduated from university, Emanuel followed his parents as they moved to Paris, and then real life seemed to get in the way.
"It's hardly the dream. I work in a hotel. That's actually why I'm here. I heard that you were still living at your parents place and figured you might like an exit route."
"Work with you?" Emanuel turned the idea over in his head, "I don't think so, brother. No offence man, but why would I work my ass off in some cheap hotel for money I don't need when I can stay here and do what I do best."
"Which is what that exactly?" Nikos questions with a raised eyebrow.
"Women."
Nikos threw a pillow at Emanuel, as the red headed threw them both a filthy look and huffed off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Emanuel doesn't even notice, and starts to pick at the skin around his cuticles. Nikos can't blame his best friend for refusing his offer. Emanuel had it made here. He doesn't have to work for money, and it is clear that he sees life as little more than a game that he can sleep and gamble his way through.
Good for him, Nikos thought, I'd probably do the same if I was in his shoes. Despite their lifelong friendship, Emanuel and Nikos had always been from different circles of society. Emanuel never wanted for anything as a child, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Whereas Nikos was lucky to go to school with a sandwich that wasn't made from stale bread. Nikos looked at his best friend, the spoilt little rich boy, but as Emanuel threw him his cheekiest smile, he remembered why it was impossible to resent him. His smile was infectious and his most redeeming feature.
Emanuel piped up, bringing Nikos out of his revere. "So, tell me. What are the Greek women like? Feisty? Flithy? Hairy?" He laughed. This was typical Emanuel, and Nikos observed the way his friends face lit up in anticipation for Nikos's response. But before he had a chance to reply, someone in the doorway cleared their throat.
Both men turned around to see Emanuel's mother stood behind them. She was dressed sharply in an expensive grey suit, and her hands were gripped on her boney hips. Her blonde hair was streaked with white and her cheeks were creased around her thin lips in way which made her appear as though she was permanently frowning. But knowing his mother, Emanuel knew she always was. She looked down her nose at Nikos before turning her eagle eyes to her only child and proclaimed in her cold, hard voice, "Emanuel get dressed. Your father is home and he wants to see you."