The Sly Cat
--Prologue
:|Tennyo
An auburn-haired woman calmly walked up the paved driveway of the
Wilmington mansion. She was dressed in a flowery sundress that billowed at the hips
with lace tracing the edges. Had her eyes been unadorned with a pair of chic
sunglasses, a passing stranger would have noticed that it was a unique lavender
haze. The palm straw hat complete with a lilac silk ribbon complemented her outfit
perfectly.
Her dainty hands were covered in a pair of white gloves that one might wear
to Sunday church. As she raised her finger to ring the doorbell, she plastered on the
smile that had won hundreds of people over.
Serena Huntington stood in front of the grand wooden doors, poised and
composed. Her hands were now clutching onto her white leather purse.
The door opened without a sound, indicating the fine upkeep of this old place,
and an aged butler appeared before her.
He cleared his throat before asking, "Excuse me madam, how may I help
you?"
Serena smiled sweetly. "Yes. I'm looking for Mr. Thomas Wilmington."
He raised his left eyebrow suspiciously. "And you are…?"
"Kate," she said, "Kate Drexel."
The old chap coughed nervously and Serena couldn't help but smile. He was
worried that he might've forgotten the name of someone who could quite possibly be
a friend of the family.
"I'm sorry; I don't recognize the name. Is Mr. Wilmington expecting you?"
Serena shook her head politely. "No, he isn't," she grinned, "I'm afraid I
didn't make an appointment."
He almost smiled before he caught himself. "Excuse me then, while I go tell
Mr. Wilmington you're here." He turned to go, but Serena stopped him with a hand
on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but what's your name?"
He turned around and lifted a bushy eyebrow, sprinkled with white. "Pardon?"
"Your name, sir," she inquired.
He looked confused, as if he wasn't accustomed to people asking for his
name. People usually ignored him. It was as if they had a mental label on him
saying, "To be noticed, when needed."
"My-my name?" he stuttered.
"Yes," she laughed lightly, "the name that people use to identify you."
"Ah, yes-um," The butler laughed nervously. "James," he said, "James
Erning."
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Erning," she stuck her hand out, "Nice to meet
you."
James shook her hand a little too vigorously, apparently shaken by the
exchange.
"Er, yes," he said uncertainly, "The pleasure is mine."
Still slightly confused, he bowed hastily.
"Please excuse me while I go inform Mr. Wilmington," he said quickly. James
turned to walk towards a closed door that was located to the right of the entryway,
leaving the great, marvelous door opened.
Serena smiled in satisfaction.
"Beautiful."
Serena flinched and turned around. Her eyes searched the professionally
manicured lawn.
Finding nothing, she turned around and began to step into the doorway.
"I'm always amazed how they always manage to do that." The voice said
again.
Serena grew irritated and whispered into the hidden microphone on the lapel
of her dress. "You idiot! You're supposed to be working in the back!" she scathed,
"And stop talking so loudly! I can hear you just fine!"
"Ok, ok!" the voice said, "And I'm not talking loudly! You need to adjust the
volume!"
Serena sighed, lifted up her dress to adjust the volume on the contraption
that was tied around her thigh. "Speak," she commanded.
"You can't cook cheese."
Satisfied with the volume, she placed her dress back into place and smoothed
out the wrinkles. "Tsk," she said, "You always come up with the most ridiculous
remarks."
"Oh excuuuse me," the voice said sarcastically, "I'm sorry I can't think of
clever repartee to the word "speak" at a moment's notice."
Serena sighed exasperatedly, "Darien, shut up and tell me your current
position."
For once, he listened without arguing. "I'm on the left side of the house, right
n- Shit!"
"Darien! Darien!" Serena whispered in a panic, "What happened!"
"Ugh," he groaned, "I just knocked my head into an air conditioner."
Serena snickered, "That's the second time it's happened this month."
"Yeah, well," he said, "If they're so rich then why won't they install central air
conditioning?"
"Because it's an old mansion, Darien. I'd doubt the Wilmingtons would want
their family house to be torn apart just so some stupid idiot wouldn't bang his head
on a regular air conditioner."
Serena stepped into the entryway and surveyed her surroundings. She took
her sunglasses and her straw hat off, studying the marble statues and the wide
staircase. She went over everything in her head.
The children were with the nanny in the playground, and the wife was out
shopping. They wouldn't be back for another hour or so, leaving them ample time to
set everything in motion.
The sophisticated alarm system they had was useless. Like most people, the
Wilmingtons assumed that no one would dare enter their threshold in the bright of
day. It was only turned on at night or when the whole family left the house.
Everything was in place.
"How are you on the backdoor?" Serena said into the mini-microphone.
Darien grunted. "It's way more elaborate than the front door. It's gonna take
some time, Serena. Time I'm not sure we have."
Serena walked into the kitchen and smiled. It was the exact replica of the
kitchen she had seen in a furniture magazine. It was the only hint of any remodeling
done in the place and it stuck out like a sore thumb. The rest of the mansion
remained untouched. The first Wilmington that built the place was particularly fond
of the 18th century French design.
Her smile widened as she saw a man dressed completely in black hunched
behind the metal-barred glass door.
"Aren't you hot in that?"
The man behind the door automatically pressed his body to the ground and
rolled out of sight.
Serena shook her head in amusement, "Darien, it's me."
The man rolled back and crouched on the balls of his feet. "Serena!" he
exclaimed, "You scared the shit outta me!"
"Serves you right for not realizing I was here 'til I was practically right in front
of your face," she said, "Ya getting rusty, Darien?"
Darien gave her a look that could only be considered dirty, "The lock is kinda
hard, okay?"
Serena gasped mockingly, "Hard? Oh no! The world is coming to an end! A
lock that Darien Renfield can't pick!"
He glared at her. "Shut up and open the friggin' door."
Serena smiled in amusement and was about to reach for the handle when she
heard voices down the hall. "Shit! Gotta go! People coming down the hall!"
Before Darien could utter a response, she darted out of the door opposite the
one where the footsteps were approaching.
She hurriedly ran into the carpeted hallway, grateful for its thickness that
muffled the noise of her high heels. The hallway led into the waiting room, just like
her informant had said.
It was really nice how one room is always connected to the next, she thought.
Settling herself onto the leather couch, she smoothed out her skirt and smiled
pleasantly as the knob of the door across the hall, which James had hurriedly gone
into, turned.
A man in his early fifties stepped out. He was wearing a pinstripe business
suit that no doubt came straight from the cleaners.
Or maybe they don't go to the cleaners, she thought, maybe they have their
very own ironing press at home.
The man cleared his throat and looked down at her. It was a look that could
only be identified with a man who was used to people working under him all his life.
"Yes?" he said with a raised eyebrow, "Do I know you?"
Swallowing her disgust, Serena gave a megawatt smile, bearing teeth and all,
and replied, "No, but you will."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" he said in a condescending tone.
Serena smiled patiently and took a folded manila envelope out of her purse.
She took out a packet of very authentic looking papers and smoothed it out on the
coffee table.
Wilmington gave her a suspicious look and bent down to pick up the papers.
After reading the first couple of lines, he threw the papers down onto the table.
"What is the meaning of this?" he said, rage filling his brown eyes.
"No meaning in it at all," she said, her voice empty of any emotion, "It is
what you will make of it."
He examined her warily; his brown eyes looking at her auburn hair and
lavender orbs. It did not make sense at all.
"You," he pointed a finger at her, his voice scalding with anger, "Are not my
daughter."
Serena calmly took a look at his graying hair that was gelled back. He was
rather handsome- if you took away the snobby demeanor he effortlessly gave off.
She shrugged gracefully, "I'm not here to claim any sort of family fortune. I'm
only here to meet the father that I've been searching for twelve years."
Wilmington looked up, the heat of his anger slowly fading away, "Twelve
years? You don't look twelve to me."
Serena gave him a flat look. For such a brilliant businessman, he was daft in
any other subject. "I obviously didn't start looking for you the moment I came out of
my mother's womb."
At the mention of a mother, Wilmington's anger flared back to life. "And who
might your mother be, may I ask?" he said in clipped tone, not believing for one
second that this woman was related to him in anyway possible. To him, she was just
another lass looking for a way to get in on the family fortune.
Serena gave him a cool look and replied simply, "April Drexel."
The name shook him and the color drained away from his face. He looked as
if he had seen a ghost. Flashes of bright, lilac eyes passed through his mind. Sounds
of innocent laughter.
"A-April?"
"Yes, April," she said, "The woman you fucked and promised to marry when
you just got out of college. But once your dear old dad threatened to take away your
trust fund, you dumped her like yesterday's garbage.
Serena looked at the old fellow whose icy demeanor was draining away. All of
a sudden, his imposing stance seemed frail and shaken as he unsteadily sat down on
his favorite armchair.
Serena sighed and couldn't help but pity him. He was just another rich
bastard that didn't care for much but his own fortune. What a sad life it must be, to
be married to a woman that he didn't love.
Bullshit.
Serena quickly reminded herself that this "old fellow" had screwed the maid
and let the wife fire her without doing anything about it.
This weasel was going to get a bitter taste of his own medicine.
"What?" Serena said, "Did you think giving her a few thousand dollars would
shut her up?"
Wilmington flinched at the mention of the money his father had given her to
take the child and leave. April was told never to set foot on the Wilmington Estate or
contact any of its family members, unless she wanted to be arrested.
"Well, it might have worked," Serena continued without pause, "But this
bitch," she pointed to herself, "was enraged for having such a father. A father who
thought that money could throw away a two year relationship."
She put her hands on both sides of the armchair, leaned in so that she was
face to face with the old bastard and gave him the best evil look she could muster.
"It wasn't enough," she said through gritted teeth.
Wilmington looked shocked as if it were the first time in his life that anyone
dared to challenge him. And maybe it was.
He looked startled for a moment more then began to regain his composure.
"Look here," he said, "I gave her more money than anyone in his right mind
would think to give to a whore who got lucky just because the condom tore one
night."
He glared at her and before he knew what hit him, Serena stood up in a flash
and slapped him right across the cheeks.
"You!" she shoved a pointed finger in his face, "You be careful who you're
talking to. Don't you DARE call my mother a whore! "
For a second or two, he tended to his reddened cheek, massaging the pain
away until he realized what he was doing. He stood up so fast that the armchair
scraped against the cool marble and raised his arm to land a blow.
Serena saw it coming and was about to knee him in the groin before he could
get a chance to do it when James walked in.
The old chap looked startled to see his disgruntled master about to lay a hand
on such a lovely young woman.
"S-Sir!"
Wilmington ignored him and continued to stare pointedly at Serena.
"Leave James," he said, "Now."
Serena stared right back at him, daring him to slap her just like he had
slapped all the women he had ever been with.
"No James!" she ordered, "Stay!"
James looked from one person to the next, unsure of what to do. He felt
compelled to stay to make sure this delightful young woman left unharmed, but he
was supposed to obey his master.
Wilmington's head turned slowly, the way predators do when they've spotted
their prey.
"What," he demanded, "Are you still doing here?"
James looked down at his hands and remembered why he had even stepped
into this room in the first place.
"Yo-Your tea, sir."
Serena took that moment to step out of Wilmington's reach, just in time to
hear Darien through her earpiece.
"I'm in."
Serena smiled smugly and gave Wilmington a deathly glare.
"If you want to hit me, then you'd better do it now." She smiled at him, and it
wasn't at all pleasant. "That is, if you want me to sue you for everything you've got."
Wilmington looked at his raised hand, as if realizing it was there for the first
time. He glared at her and said, "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh," she replied, "I would. Not only for abuse, but also for twenty eight
years of neglecting to pay for child support."
Wilmington snickered and whipped out his checkbook. "Is that all? Is it money
you want? How much will it take for you to shut up and leave?" he said confidently
with his pen poised over his leather bound checkbook.
"I got it." Darien said over the earpiece.
Serena smiled bitterly.
"You won't be able to write this problem away."
With that last comment, she picked up the papers and left.
---
tennyo012@yahoo.com
Remember kiddies! This is only the prologue. :D
--Prologue
:|Tennyo
An auburn-haired woman calmly walked up the paved driveway of the
Wilmington mansion. She was dressed in a flowery sundress that billowed at the hips
with lace tracing the edges. Had her eyes been unadorned with a pair of chic
sunglasses, a passing stranger would have noticed that it was a unique lavender
haze. The palm straw hat complete with a lilac silk ribbon complemented her outfit
perfectly.
Her dainty hands were covered in a pair of white gloves that one might wear
to Sunday church. As she raised her finger to ring the doorbell, she plastered on the
smile that had won hundreds of people over.
Serena Huntington stood in front of the grand wooden doors, poised and
composed. Her hands were now clutching onto her white leather purse.
The door opened without a sound, indicating the fine upkeep of this old place,
and an aged butler appeared before her.
He cleared his throat before asking, "Excuse me madam, how may I help
you?"
Serena smiled sweetly. "Yes. I'm looking for Mr. Thomas Wilmington."
He raised his left eyebrow suspiciously. "And you are…?"
"Kate," she said, "Kate Drexel."
The old chap coughed nervously and Serena couldn't help but smile. He was
worried that he might've forgotten the name of someone who could quite possibly be
a friend of the family.
"I'm sorry; I don't recognize the name. Is Mr. Wilmington expecting you?"
Serena shook her head politely. "No, he isn't," she grinned, "I'm afraid I
didn't make an appointment."
He almost smiled before he caught himself. "Excuse me then, while I go tell
Mr. Wilmington you're here." He turned to go, but Serena stopped him with a hand
on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but what's your name?"
He turned around and lifted a bushy eyebrow, sprinkled with white. "Pardon?"
"Your name, sir," she inquired.
He looked confused, as if he wasn't accustomed to people asking for his
name. People usually ignored him. It was as if they had a mental label on him
saying, "To be noticed, when needed."
"My-my name?" he stuttered.
"Yes," she laughed lightly, "the name that people use to identify you."
"Ah, yes-um," The butler laughed nervously. "James," he said, "James
Erning."
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Erning," she stuck her hand out, "Nice to meet
you."
James shook her hand a little too vigorously, apparently shaken by the
exchange.
"Er, yes," he said uncertainly, "The pleasure is mine."
Still slightly confused, he bowed hastily.
"Please excuse me while I go inform Mr. Wilmington," he said quickly. James
turned to walk towards a closed door that was located to the right of the entryway,
leaving the great, marvelous door opened.
Serena smiled in satisfaction.
"Beautiful."
Serena flinched and turned around. Her eyes searched the professionally
manicured lawn.
Finding nothing, she turned around and began to step into the doorway.
"I'm always amazed how they always manage to do that." The voice said
again.
Serena grew irritated and whispered into the hidden microphone on the lapel
of her dress. "You idiot! You're supposed to be working in the back!" she scathed,
"And stop talking so loudly! I can hear you just fine!"
"Ok, ok!" the voice said, "And I'm not talking loudly! You need to adjust the
volume!"
Serena sighed, lifted up her dress to adjust the volume on the contraption
that was tied around her thigh. "Speak," she commanded.
"You can't cook cheese."
Satisfied with the volume, she placed her dress back into place and smoothed
out the wrinkles. "Tsk," she said, "You always come up with the most ridiculous
remarks."
"Oh excuuuse me," the voice said sarcastically, "I'm sorry I can't think of
clever repartee to the word "speak" at a moment's notice."
Serena sighed exasperatedly, "Darien, shut up and tell me your current
position."
For once, he listened without arguing. "I'm on the left side of the house, right
n- Shit!"
"Darien! Darien!" Serena whispered in a panic, "What happened!"
"Ugh," he groaned, "I just knocked my head into an air conditioner."
Serena snickered, "That's the second time it's happened this month."
"Yeah, well," he said, "If they're so rich then why won't they install central air
conditioning?"
"Because it's an old mansion, Darien. I'd doubt the Wilmingtons would want
their family house to be torn apart just so some stupid idiot wouldn't bang his head
on a regular air conditioner."
Serena stepped into the entryway and surveyed her surroundings. She took
her sunglasses and her straw hat off, studying the marble statues and the wide
staircase. She went over everything in her head.
The children were with the nanny in the playground, and the wife was out
shopping. They wouldn't be back for another hour or so, leaving them ample time to
set everything in motion.
The sophisticated alarm system they had was useless. Like most people, the
Wilmingtons assumed that no one would dare enter their threshold in the bright of
day. It was only turned on at night or when the whole family left the house.
Everything was in place.
"How are you on the backdoor?" Serena said into the mini-microphone.
Darien grunted. "It's way more elaborate than the front door. It's gonna take
some time, Serena. Time I'm not sure we have."
Serena walked into the kitchen and smiled. It was the exact replica of the
kitchen she had seen in a furniture magazine. It was the only hint of any remodeling
done in the place and it stuck out like a sore thumb. The rest of the mansion
remained untouched. The first Wilmington that built the place was particularly fond
of the 18th century French design.
Her smile widened as she saw a man dressed completely in black hunched
behind the metal-barred glass door.
"Aren't you hot in that?"
The man behind the door automatically pressed his body to the ground and
rolled out of sight.
Serena shook her head in amusement, "Darien, it's me."
The man rolled back and crouched on the balls of his feet. "Serena!" he
exclaimed, "You scared the shit outta me!"
"Serves you right for not realizing I was here 'til I was practically right in front
of your face," she said, "Ya getting rusty, Darien?"
Darien gave her a look that could only be considered dirty, "The lock is kinda
hard, okay?"
Serena gasped mockingly, "Hard? Oh no! The world is coming to an end! A
lock that Darien Renfield can't pick!"
He glared at her. "Shut up and open the friggin' door."
Serena smiled in amusement and was about to reach for the handle when she
heard voices down the hall. "Shit! Gotta go! People coming down the hall!"
Before Darien could utter a response, she darted out of the door opposite the
one where the footsteps were approaching.
She hurriedly ran into the carpeted hallway, grateful for its thickness that
muffled the noise of her high heels. The hallway led into the waiting room, just like
her informant had said.
It was really nice how one room is always connected to the next, she thought.
Settling herself onto the leather couch, she smoothed out her skirt and smiled
pleasantly as the knob of the door across the hall, which James had hurriedly gone
into, turned.
A man in his early fifties stepped out. He was wearing a pinstripe business
suit that no doubt came straight from the cleaners.
Or maybe they don't go to the cleaners, she thought, maybe they have their
very own ironing press at home.
The man cleared his throat and looked down at her. It was a look that could
only be identified with a man who was used to people working under him all his life.
"Yes?" he said with a raised eyebrow, "Do I know you?"
Swallowing her disgust, Serena gave a megawatt smile, bearing teeth and all,
and replied, "No, but you will."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" he said in a condescending tone.
Serena smiled patiently and took a folded manila envelope out of her purse.
She took out a packet of very authentic looking papers and smoothed it out on the
coffee table.
Wilmington gave her a suspicious look and bent down to pick up the papers.
After reading the first couple of lines, he threw the papers down onto the table.
"What is the meaning of this?" he said, rage filling his brown eyes.
"No meaning in it at all," she said, her voice empty of any emotion, "It is
what you will make of it."
He examined her warily; his brown eyes looking at her auburn hair and
lavender orbs. It did not make sense at all.
"You," he pointed a finger at her, his voice scalding with anger, "Are not my
daughter."
Serena calmly took a look at his graying hair that was gelled back. He was
rather handsome- if you took away the snobby demeanor he effortlessly gave off.
She shrugged gracefully, "I'm not here to claim any sort of family fortune. I'm
only here to meet the father that I've been searching for twelve years."
Wilmington looked up, the heat of his anger slowly fading away, "Twelve
years? You don't look twelve to me."
Serena gave him a flat look. For such a brilliant businessman, he was daft in
any other subject. "I obviously didn't start looking for you the moment I came out of
my mother's womb."
At the mention of a mother, Wilmington's anger flared back to life. "And who
might your mother be, may I ask?" he said in clipped tone, not believing for one
second that this woman was related to him in anyway possible. To him, she was just
another lass looking for a way to get in on the family fortune.
Serena gave him a cool look and replied simply, "April Drexel."
The name shook him and the color drained away from his face. He looked as
if he had seen a ghost. Flashes of bright, lilac eyes passed through his mind. Sounds
of innocent laughter.
"A-April?"
"Yes, April," she said, "The woman you fucked and promised to marry when
you just got out of college. But once your dear old dad threatened to take away your
trust fund, you dumped her like yesterday's garbage.
Serena looked at the old fellow whose icy demeanor was draining away. All of
a sudden, his imposing stance seemed frail and shaken as he unsteadily sat down on
his favorite armchair.
Serena sighed and couldn't help but pity him. He was just another rich
bastard that didn't care for much but his own fortune. What a sad life it must be, to
be married to a woman that he didn't love.
Bullshit.
Serena quickly reminded herself that this "old fellow" had screwed the maid
and let the wife fire her without doing anything about it.
This weasel was going to get a bitter taste of his own medicine.
"What?" Serena said, "Did you think giving her a few thousand dollars would
shut her up?"
Wilmington flinched at the mention of the money his father had given her to
take the child and leave. April was told never to set foot on the Wilmington Estate or
contact any of its family members, unless she wanted to be arrested.
"Well, it might have worked," Serena continued without pause, "But this
bitch," she pointed to herself, "was enraged for having such a father. A father who
thought that money could throw away a two year relationship."
She put her hands on both sides of the armchair, leaned in so that she was
face to face with the old bastard and gave him the best evil look she could muster.
"It wasn't enough," she said through gritted teeth.
Wilmington looked shocked as if it were the first time in his life that anyone
dared to challenge him. And maybe it was.
He looked startled for a moment more then began to regain his composure.
"Look here," he said, "I gave her more money than anyone in his right mind
would think to give to a whore who got lucky just because the condom tore one
night."
He glared at her and before he knew what hit him, Serena stood up in a flash
and slapped him right across the cheeks.
"You!" she shoved a pointed finger in his face, "You be careful who you're
talking to. Don't you DARE call my mother a whore! "
For a second or two, he tended to his reddened cheek, massaging the pain
away until he realized what he was doing. He stood up so fast that the armchair
scraped against the cool marble and raised his arm to land a blow.
Serena saw it coming and was about to knee him in the groin before he could
get a chance to do it when James walked in.
The old chap looked startled to see his disgruntled master about to lay a hand
on such a lovely young woman.
"S-Sir!"
Wilmington ignored him and continued to stare pointedly at Serena.
"Leave James," he said, "Now."
Serena stared right back at him, daring him to slap her just like he had
slapped all the women he had ever been with.
"No James!" she ordered, "Stay!"
James looked from one person to the next, unsure of what to do. He felt
compelled to stay to make sure this delightful young woman left unharmed, but he
was supposed to obey his master.
Wilmington's head turned slowly, the way predators do when they've spotted
their prey.
"What," he demanded, "Are you still doing here?"
James looked down at his hands and remembered why he had even stepped
into this room in the first place.
"Yo-Your tea, sir."
Serena took that moment to step out of Wilmington's reach, just in time to
hear Darien through her earpiece.
"I'm in."
Serena smiled smugly and gave Wilmington a deathly glare.
"If you want to hit me, then you'd better do it now." She smiled at him, and it
wasn't at all pleasant. "That is, if you want me to sue you for everything you've got."
Wilmington looked at his raised hand, as if realizing it was there for the first
time. He glared at her and said, "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh," she replied, "I would. Not only for abuse, but also for twenty eight
years of neglecting to pay for child support."
Wilmington snickered and whipped out his checkbook. "Is that all? Is it money
you want? How much will it take for you to shut up and leave?" he said confidently
with his pen poised over his leather bound checkbook.
"I got it." Darien said over the earpiece.
Serena smiled bitterly.
"You won't be able to write this problem away."
With that last comment, she picked up the papers and left.
---
tennyo012@yahoo.com
Remember kiddies! This is only the prologue. :D