Hutch couldn't get out of the dining room fast enough, although he was careful to control his pace. He wanted Brett to think he'd spooked him into doing his bidding, when in actuality, he wanted to be cleansed of his presence. The very thought that he'd once admired that man was more than enough to make him feel ill.
Pausing in the hallway, he closed his eyes, to recenter himself. Straightening his back, he rolled his shoulders, and tapped his heels together, before proceeding towards the exit. To him, it was easier to go back to being a good soldier, than pretending to be a superb butler, although in this job, he wasn't certain there was going to be much of a difference.
When the guard at the exit let him pass, Hutch made his way over to where Casimir and Celina were still standing. There was a different group of people with them now, but the moment he came into view, Casimir excused himself. Motioning for Hutch to follow, he made his way towards the door that led to the Staff only area between the restaurant and the lounge, where the elevators down to the Kitchen, and the prep area for the waitstaff were.
Quickening his pace, Hutch followed Casimir inside, where he found himself abruptly pulled and held against his shoulder. He'd barely made it through the door, before Casimir had him in a hug. He was so shocked by the moment; he became incapable of responding fast enough. For the next thing he realized, Casimir's hands were upon his cheeks, concern upon his face, as he looked into his eyes.
"Are you okay? You look even paler than normal."
"I need a drink." Was all he managed to utter; the truth of how he was feeling in the moment tumbling out unhindered.
"Wait here," he replied, and left without hesitation.
Casimir returned a moment later with a glass in hand, a finger's worth of a dark amber liquid swirling in the bottom, telling him, "Drink up," as he pressed the glass into his hand.
Hutch wasn't going to argue. He needed to feel that comforting burn of an old familiar friend. He didn't even care what was in the glass, taking a moment to glance around, before shooting it back while no one was looking.
Casimir took back the glass as Hutch released a long slow breath, savoring the warmth a quality shot would bring.
"What was that?"
"Crown Royale," Casimir replied, with a faint shrug. "Sorry. Couldn't resist, and nothing better was coming to mind."
Hutch cracked a smile, which made him feel better than that drink every would, although he was no less grateful for it.
"Cas, I think he's going to be a problem."
"I'm not concerned with him right now. I knew what he'd be the moment I shook his hand. It's more important for me to make certain you're okay first."
"Bit of a tall order, but the drink helped. If you're worried about me keeping my composure, don't be. I'm good. I won't let him be a distraction."
Casimir shook his head and grabbed his shoulder. "Dammit Hutch, I'm worried about you as my friend. First and foremost, that is what you are to me."
The word 'friend' struck like a gong, vibrating through him. Hutch gasped, trying to hold in the emotions that were ebbing to the surface. His hands clenched into fists, and his head dropped as his brow scrunched uncomfortably. With a few haggard breaths, he shielded his eyes, and forced himself to breath deeper, until he managed to regain his composure. Wiping his hand down his face, he tapped his fist against his chin, and straightened himself up once again. Looking at Casimir, he shook his head.
"You just had to go and say some shit like that. This stupid teenage brain can't handle it. I can be as mature as I want and still break down at the drop of a fucking hat," Hutch stated, jabbing at Casimir's shoulder, which he took without even flinching. "I feel guilty enough as it is without you playing the friend card. I need to get through tonight with you as my boss. If you still want to curl up on the couch with some rosé and slippers, we can do that tomorrow. I'll bring the box of tissues and cry on your shoulder."
"You promise?" Casimir replied with a tone of intrigue.
"If it's good enough wine, sure, why the hell not."
"As if I'd keep anything sub-par in the house. Don't insult me. Now, as your boss, tell me what happened. You said he's going to be a problem. How so?"
"He wants me to convince you to have a 'sit down' as he put it. When I told him no, he made a not-so veiled threat." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the business cards, giving one to Casimir, popping the other back inside. "I'm supposed to be in touch, so I doubt he will cause any further issues tonight. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go over the details of our conversation, sometime tomorrow instead. I don't want him ruining tonight."
"What did he threaten you with?" Casimir questioned, stowing away the business card.
Hutch took a breath. "That's what I'd like to discuss. And as far as I can tell, Cherry kept her mouth shut. What he brought up, to me, it's all in the distant past. But to him, it was a few months ago. And as much as I hate to say he's right about anything, on this, he might be. Either way, I think it's best if I told you everything, at least as much as I can remember about my life here, so if it comes up, you aren't blindsided; any more than I will be."
"Fair enough. We'll talk tomorrow then. For tonight, stick close for a bit. Keep up appearances, in case he's watching, and when you feel comfortable enough, go and try to enjoy the rest of tonight. Even if that means heading up to the penthouse early. The view of the fireworks will be just as spectacular from up there."
"And let that dirtbag think he phased me? Not even you could pay me enough to do that."
Casimir smirked and pat his shoulder. "You know what this situation reminds me of?" he asked, stepping back against the door.
"Not a clue," Hutch replied, as Casimir swung the door open.
"Dralcinar Sluwje."
"Shit. You're right," Hutch muttered as he followed Casimir back out into the restaurant. "Well, that turned out perfectly fine in the end."
"He was assassinated."
Hutch lifted his brow in a 'take the hint,' sort of manner, which caused Casimir to grin and chuckle, saying, "That's not really an option," as they swerved by the bar, so Casimir could grab a fresh drink.
There was no further excitement for the remainder of the next few hours. Brett had wisely, made himself scarce. The last Hutch had noticed of him was when he was making his way up to the observation deck, which helped ease the tension he'd been carrying around with him.
After sharing enough conversations with their guests, Casimir would whisk Celina away to the dance floor, as the small orchestra in the corner of the room, continued to play their enchanting tunes.
A constant flow of people circled the buffet. The waitstaff never ceasing in their gathering of empty plates, and glasses, as they meandered through the shifting sea of guests. And sometime around eleven, the first set of guards had left, and the second set had taken up their positions.
"So, you going to ask me to dance sometime tonight?" Clara asked as she came up beside Hutch, as he was watching the people on the dance floor from a quieter spot off to the side of the room.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I didn't want to interrupt. Plus, your friend, Stacy, makes me a tad nervous."
"She's more like a friend-at-her-convenience," she remarked, setting her empty glass on the table before them. "I've known her and Jaclynn since kindergarten, but I wouldn't say we're close, and I've only known Lexi for a couple of years. We met in high school and ended up at the same university. Same business classes, same dorm hall, and even dorm room neighbors. She's nice, albeit a bit on the quiet side. Turns out her mother dragged her here tonight, against her will. Can you imagine?" she jested, nudging at his side. "Anyways, it's for the best if you avoid Stacy."
"Dare I ask why?"
"Certainly. Ends up she finds you rather… what was the word she used," she hummed for a moment, "oh, fetching. The problem is, she has this weird habit, fantasy thing, about sleeping with the help. She says they're more fun, and eager to please, because they think they'll land a rich wife if they keep her happy."
"I think they call that a fetish."
Clara giggled, and blushed. "I believe you are correct, but wasn't my way more poetic? Either way, she gets bored of them after a month or two and gets them fired so she doesn't have to see them again. And don't think for a moment she's the only one in a crowd like this. Half her sorority are the same way. It's like some sick little game they like to play."
"Well, don't they all sound just lovely."
"Please. They're all miserable. It's why I refused to join them. But enough about me, why are you over here, all by your lonesome?"
"Just enjoying the view. Reminiscing with myself, about the years gone by. Wondering what Lala would think about all of this. Trying to imagine, if we looked even remotely that blissfully happy, when we were together," Hutch replied, motioning to her parents on the dance floor.
"It's unfair of you to try and compare yourself to that. Because that," she pointed directly at them, "that is an aberration. I grew up watching that. Watching the world disappear around them when they became fixated on each other, and I mistakenly thought it was normal. Had to learn the hard way that the rest of us don't get to be like that. If you and Kahlala were even half that in love and a third as happy, you're still beating out the majority of the rest of us."
"I'm sorry, that's a lesson you ever had to learn."
"I'm not," she replied, taking a hold of his arm once again, as she closed the distance between them. "Sure, it was horrible at the time, but in the end, it made me realize that while fantasies are fun to have, they should never be the expectation. We'd all be so lucky to simply find someone who will love us back as much as we love them, and even that is impossible for most. Whatever it is that Casimir and Celina Salvador share, that's something else entirely. And that isn't meant for anyone else but them."