When The Rich Son Falls

Six

A day in the life of a Christopher Stevens would usually begin at 11 in the morning, waking up in his queen-sized bed. It didn’t matter if he was dead-drunk at 2 AM, three cities away; he would always try to get to his own bedroom and sleep in the comfort of his top-of-the-line Royal Pedic mattress and Eiderdown duvet, surrounded by an accurate map of the constellations coming from his night light. With barely any work allocated for him, Topher could spend half an hour just lying down, undisturbed by the noon sun, thanks to his motorized black-out curtains. After he’d decided to get up, he’d work out, relax some more in the sauna, bathe, then eat brunch that he’d either had Leonard order online, or go out with his friends. Maybe he’d “do some work”—which was basically just showing up to a meeting every now and then and fill up paperwork—when he felt like it, then it was watching TV shows, movies, live theater, then hanging out with more people, shopping, eating dinner, then going to a bar or a club just for the heck of it.

Suffice it to say, the youngest child of the Stevens family had lived like a prince for most of his life. So, it was a rare event for him to wake up in a single bed that could barely contain his height, at 8 in the morning because the sun was shining on his face.

As soon as Topher opened his eyes and saw the low ceiling above him, he let out a long groan of despair. The prince had run away from his luxurious castle, ironically because he was about to get kicked out.

He patted the bed blindly until he finally found his phone. There were no messages or calls, he saw, but then he remembered that he couldn’t get any because he had yet to find the courage to turn off the Airplane Mode on his device. He couldn’t even go online to get his daily dose of “therapy” from shopping or mindlessly watching cooking videos.

It was torture.

Then there was the guilt. Oh, the guilt he felt as he remembered what he had done to the poor hotel employee. If there was one thing that a people-pleaser like Topher couldn’t stand, it was knowing that someone out there disliked him. So, he decided that since he’d already been awakened by the stupid sunlight, he should at least try and get up.

He set his mind to try and make amends, and maybe secure that long-term stay while he’s at it. With his newfound determination, he made his bed, took a shower—that was freezing cold, thanks to the lack of a water heater—and rummaged through his luggage to find an outfit for the day.

Considering the warm weather outside, Topher went with his white v-neck shirt, striped shorts, loafers, and the thinnest blazer he could find. To top it all off, he put on his bohemian hat and favorite pair of sunglasses. After all, just because he was trying to live on the down-low didn’t mean that his fashion sense should be sacrificed.

After putting on a fair amount of perfume, he grabbed a bunch of cash and finally headed out with the girl at the reception area being his first priority. Thankfully, she was there behind the desk in her uniform, talking pleasantly with a family of six. The three kids were running around and bumping onto surfaces in their fun, but the teenage girl and the parents didn’t seem to mind. Only when the littlest one ran onto Topher’s leg did the teen finally look up from her phone.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she said in a flat tone, not really looking like she meant it.

“It’s fine,” Topher waved it off with a small smiled.

The girl was about to get back on her device when she suddenly frowned and looked back at Topher again. “Hey, aren’t you—” she looked down at the screen then back up at him again. The alarms went off in Topher’s head. A teenage girl with social media and a camera phone was the last thing he needed. He tilted his head down a little so his hat would somehow cover his face.

“No, I’m not,” he quickly muttered, even going as far as to lower his voice.

The girl pointed at him and said, “You are, aren’t you?” Thankfully, her parents had finished talking with Mandy and began calling their attention.

“Let’s go, kids,” the mother impatiently said, and when the teen turned for a second to look at her, Topher quickly turned around and hid behind a thin indoor plant. He could hear the girl complaining and trying to whisper to her mom that “that Topher guys is here!” but the parent only replied, “Topher Grace? That’s not him. Come on and we have to feed your brothers,” then their conversation carried on outside.

“You’re in the clear,” Topher heard Mandy say, slightly surprising him that she was helping him out.

With a sigh of relief, he stepped out of his ineffective hiding place and made a beeline to the front desk.

“Heeey,” he sheepishly smiled as he leaned an elbow on the surface. “Mandy, right?”

“Yes, sir, good morning,” she replied, sounding unlike the happy bee she was when he first came in. Now, she was regarding him with some sort of timidness, and Topher did not like that he’d caused that.

The lobby doors opened then and in came James with a large box of things in his arms. He smiled and nodded at Mandy, but then looked at Topher suspiciously before placing the box in a corner. There was a discomfort in knowing that most of the staff in the hotel probably disliked him, but he decided to take things one at a time.

With the most remorseful expression he could muster, he faced Mandy and began. “Listen, I just want to apologize for the way I behaved yesterday. I was really stressed. I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve had a pretty rough day yesterday and I took it out on you. For that, I am truly, deeply, sorry,” he said, and he really meant those words.

Mandy’s expression visibly softened as she understandingly nodded and let out a small smile. “It’s okay, sir,” she replied, which immediately took a load off Topher’s back.

“Of course, I’ll try to make it up to you even more,” he promised, grabbing her hands in his joy which she didn’t seem to mind. “But I just need to secure my stay here first. May I know if your manager is back, so I can talk to him or her about getting approved for a long-term stay?”

“Oh,” Mandy said, quick to return to her bubbly state. “He’s actually right over there.” She pointed at James who had been keeping a watchful eye on them while unpacking—what looked like inflatable toys—from the corner.

“Him?” Topher looked at Mandy as if she was joking. “The bellhop?”

“James is the manager of this place. He owns it.”