A Miserable Pile of Secrets Ch. 04

Arthur's voice was soft and nonplussed as he stared at the long, black vehicle that waited close to the hospital's entrance.

"Why the hell do you have a limousine?"

Vince tapped Arthur's shoulder with his fingers. "Why shouldn't I have a limousine?"

"Because nobody has a limousine," Arthur said even though that wasn't literally correct.

Vince opened the door in the back and gestured as if he was the driver. "Just get in. This is your ride to my place."

"Did you rent this thing?" Arthur asked as he slipped inside and clicked his seat belt on. The interior had stylish black seats, like a long sofa, and the floor was gray. There was a bar, a refrigerator, a stereo, a television screen, and a cordless telephone. Arthur saw that there were thick, black curtains near the windows. They were pulled back, looking a bit odd in the leathery, modern space.

Vince glided in beside him, put his backpack on the floor, and shut the door. Then he put his on seat belt on. "Nope. Didn't rent this thing." He made a point to close all the curtains in the windows, blocking out most of the light. Then he lifted the thin handset from the phone's base. He pressed a button and spoke. "We're ready to go." A nod. "Okay. Be careful." He hung up and smiled at Arthur. "I got some pillows for you." He reached under a seat and pulled out a large drawer. A constricted pillow was inside. Quite loud about it, he shook and fluffed the pillow out. "Hold this to your ribs as much as possible, especially when sleeping."

"Okay." Arthur took the pillow and held it. He felt more like a child then than when he had a teddy bear and a blue monkey in his lap. He sighed as the vehicle seemed to leave the hospital. It was a smooth ride. "I've never been in a limo before. When did you get it?"

"Hmmmm?" Vince reached out to the fridge and opened the door. There was a variety of drinks and snacks in there. He picked up a chocolate protein drink and shook it around, even tapping the bottom with his palm. "I don't know, had it a long time."

"A long time? Then where did you keep it?"

Vince's nose wiggled as he smiled and twisted his drink open. "My other house. Do you want a drink? There are some really healthy fruit juices in here."

"You have another house?!" Arthur's fingernails dug into the pillows so deeply that they nearly punctured the thing. "Since when do you have more than one house?!"

His smile immediately undone, Vince said, "Hey, don't get worked up. It's not good for you."

"Well how can I not get worked up? Don't you just have a gun shop? How can you have a limousine and a second house? Do you own a retail chain or something like that?"

Reaching back into the fridge, Vince said, "Something like that." He pulled out a drink that was similar to V8 but probably had less sodium and sugar. Then he held it out to Arthur. "Take this. It's good for your brain."

Arthur took the bottle, but he wasn't pacified. "Look, you're very nice, but we've been friends for only a few months, and you're going to let me stay with you ... for how long?"

A shrug. A gulp of his drink. Then Vince said, "As long as you need to."

"What's the catch? There's always a catch."

After quickly licking a corner of his lips, making Arthur blush a little, Vince's eyelids formed a knowing, clever expression.

Damn, he looked good.

"There's no catch." Vince smirked then. "You're harmless, and now you're helpless. I'll keep you safe. Don't think too hard about it."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "This isn't normal."

"Oh shut up and drink your juice. Normal's something that changes all the time." He took another sip from his bottle. Then he stretched his legs out and sighed. "What are you going to do? Say no? Sit in your bed all alone with a roommate who probably won't help you? Fuck no. Take all the good things you're given."

Arthur mumbled and whined but he opened up his drink and took a sip.

They were quiet for a long time. Arthur was curious about where they were going. His free hand rose to touch one of the windows' curtains, but Vince's snapping voice stopped him. "Leave them alone. The light bugs me."

Arthur put his hand back on his pillow. "Okay, it's your car. Your rules."

More quiet.

Arthur tried to turn on the stereo.

"Nope!" Vince's voice had Arthur bouncing in his seat. "No music. Your brain's too weak for that."

"But it's fucking boring to just sit here with nothing to do."

Vince snapped his fingers, then pointed downwards. "Put your hand down and relax." He said that with so much sass that Arthur almost wanted to laugh at him.

"Well, what are you going to do with me when I'm at your place? Tie me to a bed?"

He shook his head. "You can go for short walks, but when you get tired I'll put you in a wheelchair."

"That wasn't anywhere in the doctor's advice!" Arthur nearly spilled his drink on his pillow, which would've been upsetting. He already adored the comfy thing. "And where'd you get a wheelchair?!"

"I bought a wheelchair when I broke my leg a year ago. It's been in storage ever since."

"So why do I need to be in a wheelchair?"

Vince put his cap back on his bottle and put the bottle in a cup holder. "It's so someone can roll you around, and you can look at things, without you wearing your body out. I do want you to try to walk around when you can, but I'll freak out if you get too tired. And if I see you twisting around I just might tie you to the bed for a few minutes." He snorted as he put a fist to his lips and hid a small chuckle. "I wonder if I can tie a rod or something to your spine to keep you from puncturing your lungs." He shook his head. "No, wrapping anything around your ribs would only make it worse."

"Okay, okay." Arthur leaned back in his seat, tilted his head up, and closed his eyes. "Calm down. Don't do anything stupid. I'll be careful. Don't worry."

***

Daylight was what Arthur expected to see when he carefully exited the limousine.

Instead, there was a huge twinkling room. Reflective gray stone tile on the floors, medium brown paneled walls, smooth cream ceiling, and an amazing amount of space. There were several cars parked around, but they didn't fill up the massive space. A topless car the color of blood with a sleek white interior. A beastly but luxurious dark blue G Wagon. A neon green car that looked like it had been sharply carved. A pale gray thing that almost looked like the god damn Batmobile. An oddly cute black and white car that looked Italian and fast. An orange car that looked like a toy for an edgy eight year old was magically turned into a real life size. And finally, a familiar black pickup truck.

"Where the hell are we?" Arthur breathed out as he clung to his pillow.

"My garage," Vince answered as he took a place right beside him. His shoes clicked on the floor.

Arthur's head slowly turned to face Vince. His eyelids drew back. With a horribly quiet voice, he said, "This isn't a garage."

"Yes it is," Vince said with a shit eating grin forming.

"Nobody has a garage like this."

The grin was in place. "I do."

As obstinate as a woman who wanted to see a store's manager, Arthur repeated the sentence but louder, "Nobody has a garage like this!"

Vince shrugged with his hands outstretched. "Well, I do. Now shut up and follow me. There should be a room ready for you."

Arthur watched him adjust the weight of his backpack. Then he followed the man to a far off sliding door that looked like it was made of rich dark wood.

The hallway he saw was so minimalist that it felt bare and cold. White and gray, but polished and clean, this was like something out of a movie or a video game. Periodically, there would be a piece of hanging art (usually abstract modern stuff) or a colored glass vase with oddly lush plants. Those plants were often the most ornate things to be seen. The doors they passed seemed to be similar to the one they had used to enter this place.

"Is this really a house?" Arthur asked. He didn't know what the building looked like, but he imagined it wasn't traditional.

"Yep." Vince didn't even look back.

"There's no way this is a house. No way."

They stopped at a staircase made of wood similar to the doors. There was a wall of thin metal rods on one side The steps themselves were jutting out of the other, more normal wall that had a more useful wooden handrail. Those steps looked like they were floating. Arthur was too scared to put his feet on them. "What's keeping those stairs up?" he asked.

"Hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of work," Vince said as he easily started his trek up those stairs. He was truly composed, almost elegant, despite his backpack, as he paused a few steps up and turned his head. "There's nothing to be scared of. Come on."

So tightly that his fingers hurt, Arthur gripped the handrail and walked up the stairs, pretending the image of Vince's tight ass in his jeans wasn't attractive.

They ended up in a different hallway. A woman was walking there. She was wearing a bright T-shirt with a logo on it, long slacks, and a modern apron. She was pushing a cart of cleaning supplies. She waved her hand and cheerfully said, "Hello!"

Vince nodded to her. "Hello."

"Uhm, hi." Arthur didn't want to be mean.

A minute or so later, they passed a man dressed in the same uniform as the woman, and they all greeted each other.

When a similar interaction happened with a third person, Arthur irritably said, "Okay, tell me those aren't all maids."

"Well, some of them are men, so we just call them all cleaners or housekeepers."

"Why do you have three housekeepers?" Arthur asked as he watched the third person pause at a hanging painting without a frame and start wiping it down with a dry cloth.

"I don't have three," Vince said, "but to tell you the truth, I forgot the exact number."

"Most people don't have a single housekeeper, but you have so many that you haven't bothered to count?" Arthur didn't care if the worker they passed heard or not. "This is creepy."

"No it's not." Vince sighed. "Sorry, but there are more stairs. The elevators are being repaired. Let me know if you get tired or feel any pain. I'll carry you if I have to."

Arthur whined as if he really was in pain. "You have elevators?!"

They stopped at a new set of stairs. Vince gave him a concerned look. "If you say nobody has this or that I'll chew you out. Now how do you feel?"

Arthur pressed his pillow against his cheek. "I'm okay. I can walk up more stairs."

"Alright." Vince took a few steps up. "I think the elevators will be fixed later today."

Suddenly, Vince's phone in his pocket beeped, and he paused to look at it, tapping on the screen with his fingertip. Then he smiled. "Oh, never mind. Just got a text. They've already finished the elevators." He put his phone back into his pocket. "I'll take you to the nearest one."

The nearest one wasn't far away, but it just looked so out of place in a house. Arthur wondered if this situation was actually a joke and this building was really a super modern apartment complex. Vince pushed a button on the wall. Some light mechanical sounds droned on, and then the metal elevator doors slid open. Vince stepped inside and waved Arthur in. The wall facing the doors was wholly covered by a seamless mirror. The other two walls had wooden paneling with thin metallic lines.

"How many floors are in this house?" Arthur asked as he leaned against one of the wooden walls. Then he looked at the menu of buttons near the doors. His jaw dropped.

Ten floors and five basement levels?!

"Are we in a god damn skyscraper or something?!"

Vince pushed a button with the number ten on it. "Hm? Oh, no. Most of the building is in a cliff."

"We aren't in a house, are we?"

"Yes, we are," Vince said. "It's just really big."

The doors closed and the elevator started moving.

Arthur looked at Vince's reflection in the mirror. "Why do you have a house like this? It's freaking me out."

Vince's reflection turned around and smiled at him. "Well, I wasn't going to tell you right away. This isn't something I like to tell new people."

"What, are you actually a prince from some far off country?"

A small chortle, and Vince said, "That's stupid." His hands went just above his hips. "I own a pretty big company. I sell military grade weapons, armor, and software."

"Oh." Arthur sighed and looked down at his feet.

The elevator stopped with a ding. The doors opened. Arthur followed Vince out to the hallway. More bare and cold interior design waited.

"You know," Arthur said in an attempt to be less confrontational, "I'm surprised you haven't gotten married and had kids. Women should be crawling up your pants leg like a kitten that really wants attention."

"Yeah, I'm always on Thot Patrol," Vince casually said as he went up to a pair of double sliding doors. He opened them and held his closed fingers out into the room. "Here we are. Make yourself comfortable."

Three of the walls were a smooth middle gray. The fourth wall had white tiles that looked like bricks with faintly glittering black mortar. The ceiling was a light gray and had several hanging lamps with white round shades. The floor had soft black carpeting and white rugs. Against the tiled wall, there was a black media center. It was shaped almost like a square U on its side, with a small rectangle of a shelf near the U's ends. In the large space between the rectangle and the dip of the U, there was a television. Sparingly arranged on this media center's shelves, there were random little books, some colorful statuettes of people and animals, and black vases with thin and squiggly plants.

Against the gray wall across from the media center, there was a tidy bed. The blankets and pillows had intense colors, cerulean, black, dark blue, and white. Many of the pillows were stacked up for Arthur to keep in an upright position, which was nice position, considering his broken rib. Arthur's rib started to twinge with pain as he considered this, almost as if it knew it was being thought about. He cringed and said, "I think I'll need an ice pack soon."

"Okay," Vince said as he walked over to a massive set of wardrobes and drawers that seemed to have been in a recess in the gray walls. It looked so smooth and harmonious that it blended in with the wall. He opened one of the wardrobes and revealed a bunch of pillows and blankets. He got some extra pillows. Then he went to the bed. The nightstands looked almost like tight white Zs. He leaned his backpack against a nightstand and put the pillows on the bed. As he waved Arthur closer to the bed, he whipped out his phone and made a call.

Vince's voice was so compelling that it chilled Arthur's blood. "Wheelchair. Ice packs. Here. Now." Still, he put on a warm smile as he hung up and looked back up at Arthur. "Take off your shoes and lie down." He pulled the covers away.

When Arthur was on the bed, holding onto his favorite pillow as if it was his life force, he asked, "Could you hand me my phone?"

"Yeah I could, but I won't." Vince found a square blue armchair and dragged it close to the bed. Then he sunk down. His legs spread. He leaned back and weaved his hands in his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. "Ahhhhhh ... someone will be here soon. The door's not locked."

"Mind if I watch some TV?"

Vince put his arms on his thighs, letting his hands dangle. His eyes were merry. A dimple was in his cheek. His hair seemed fluffier than normal. "No way. No TV."

"Come on." Arthur turned his head to look away. "I'll die of boredom."

"No you won't. I'll give you a tour each day."

"Hm?" Arthur laced his fingers over his pillow. "I guess that'll be fun." He liked to explore places in video games. Open worlds, massive buildings, and similar elaborate things to enjoy in games were some of his favorite features. Too bad he tended to get lost, which often lead to failure.

A tall man in a uniform that reminded Arthur of waiters entered the room. He had a folded wheelchair and a tray with a few frozen looking ice packs. Vince said to him, "Oh, there you are. Thanks."

The man put the wheelchair down nearby. Then he put the tray on the bed and left.

Vince bent over to take the tray and said, "I'll help you take off your shirt."

Arthur wasn't close to the ice packs, but he still trembled. He put his pillow on his lap. Then he looked at his fingers, rubbing his fingernails together. "I think I can do it. It's fine."

But Vince put the tray aside and slid his fingers under Arthur's shirt, all while firmly saying, "Nope, I got you." The way his warm fingers and smooth nails grazed his flesh had Arthur trying not to curse. Blood immediately flowed into his cock and he had to mentally force that organ to not turn into a pole. His teeth jammed together as he weakly lifted his arms. Vince's movement was very steady. The shirt practically glided off. "Okay. I'll get the ice."

Arthur quietly watched and endured as Vince carefully put the cold pack on his skin. It nearly hurt, but it was a necessary and welcome procedure. "This ... uh ... it's a really nice room," Arthur said as he looked from one thing to the next. So, do I actually get to sleep here?"

"Yep." Vince seemed to have his eyes focused on the ice pack. He had on his beachy, sweet, minty cologne.

Arthur wondered if he'd ever be able to afford a vacation at a beach. He silently promised that if he ever was that lucky, he'd eat minty ice cream with his toes in the sand and happily admire the sea.

"Soooooooo ... you're rich."

Vince simply said, "Yep."

"How long you been rich?"

"Long enough."

Arthur hissed as Vince slightly changed the pack's position. "Ahhhh ... I bet your family's proud."

"I don't know." A long, miserable sigh. "Most of my family's dead, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry about that."

Another small adjustment with the ice pack, it sounded like rocks. Vince said, "Hey, do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Don't go telling people you know I'm rich. I mean, if you call your parents or talk to anyone who doesn't work in my house, don't tell them about my house and stuff."

Arthur scratched at his scalp with a low hum in his throat. "Hmmmmmm ... you don't want the attention?"

"Have you tried to look me up on social media?"

Arthur shook his head.

After a quick laugh, almost jolting the ice pack, Vince said, "If you did, you wouldn't find much."

"Okay," Arthur said. "I'll just tell my family that I've been hanging out with some gun shop owner that has a house out in the woods, if I say anything at all."

"Just so you know," Vince added, "my name's a little famous in some parts, but most people don't know what I look like. I even had my employees sign a contract agreeing not to discuss my appearance, even the factory workers that would probably never see me."

"Whatever, that's your business, not mine."

***

Arthur said he wasn't tired at all, but Vince dragged the folded wheelchair along anyway.

First, he showed Arthur the en suite bathroom for him. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all amazingly white while most everything else was either shiny metal, blood red, or black. It was pretty austere too. Then he led Arthur off to some living room, which was apparently one of many. The floor had a sunken circle in the center with round sofas. A central fireplace was there too. After that, Vince showed him a room that looked like a small, modern bar. There was even a bartender, although he looked hopelessly bored, flipping through a hunting magazine.

When the bartender noticed the men entering the room, he closed the magazine, put it away, and stood up from his seat. With a smile, he said, "Hello there! Can I get you guys anything?"