"Oh… that's right. You had no other friends." I pull the door of my BMW open and drop into the driver’s seat.
"Nah, we both know that's not true. I just took pity on the new boy."
"Are you still fucking talking?" I ask, starting the engine and flooring it out of the parking lot.
It's a thirty-minute drive to my uncle’s house on the outskirts of town, in an insanely exclusive neighborhood.
His house is ridiculous. It’s set behind a huge pair of gates and invisible from the road. It makes the houses I was used to in Sterling Bay look like shanty huts. I have no idea who owns the other houses, or if anyone even lives in them, because I have never seen anyone on this street.
It's creepy as fuck. Actually, everything about my uncle is creepy as fuck.
I must have watched too much trash on the TV as a kid, because I thought uncles were meant to be fun, feed you all the food your parents wouldn't allow you to have, and generally help you cause mayhem. But Uncle Marcus, he's… well, he’s not any of that.
He’s stern, serious, and downright weird.
He lives alone in this big old house that could easily be turned into a hotel; it's so huge. Yet he doesn’t seem to work, and I haven’t seen or heard any evidence of him ever working.
As we pull up to the gates that lead to my uncle’s colossal house, they begin to open.
"It doesn't matter how many times I come here, I still can't get used to it,” Alex says.
"You and me both," I mutter as we make our way down the long driveway until the gothic style building emerges before us. It looks like something out of a horror film, making a shudder run down my spine. If my uncle suddenly announced that he used the basement to imprison and torture people, I would not be surprised.
When he called before classes this morning to demand I attend dinner this evening, the last thing I wanted to do was agree. But my uncle isn't the kind of man you say no to. He might be fast approaching sixty, but his presence is still as scary as fuck.
"Let's get this over with, then," I say, shouldering the door open and climbing out.
The front door is always open, so we let ourselves in and make our way down the long entrance hall. "Uncle Marcus?" I call, not knowing which of the seemingly endless number of rooms he'll be in.
"Coming," his voice booms from somewhere upstairs.
We make our way toward the kitchen, and I pull the refrigerator open and grab us both a can of soda. "Here," I say, throwing it to Alex and watching him miss by a mile and it explodes on the tiled floor.
It's easy to forget that he's not one of the football players I spent my time with before my move here.
"Shit, sorry," he says, jumping away from the spray that's still shooting from the side of the can.
We're both on our hands and knees, trying to tidy the mess up, when my uncle joins us.
"Afternoon," he says, his voice deep and rough like always and his brow raised in question.
"I can't catch," Alex offers by way of explanation.
I'm pretty sure my uncle thinks Alex and I are in a secret relationship. He's mentioned more times than I care to count about my lack of female action since moving here, and every time I try to steer the conversation to something else, I know he's thinking that it's because I don't want to admit I'm gay.
"Leave it. Brenda can get it," he orders, and we both stand, leaving the mess on the floor.
Brenda is Uncle Marcus' long-suffering housekeeper. She's worked for him for… well, forever, I think. She hardly ever says anything, just keeps to herself while maintaining the level of cleanliness Marcus expects of his ancient looking home.
Everything about this place is old and mysterious. If I cared to look, I’d bet it's got an interesting history behind it. Hell, I'd probably find all the answers in one of the many rooms Marcus keeps locked.
Every time I've asked him about them, he just tells me that we don't need them. That the house is already too big for the two of us. I can't help but agree with him there, but it's clear he's lying. If he cares enough to lock the doors, then there is something in there that he doesn’t want me to see.
"So, how's it hanging, Uncle M?" Alex asks Marcus like he's just one of the guys.
"It's good, thank you, Alexander. And how is college going?" Marcus gestures for us to join him at one end of the dining table that seats sixteen.
"It's good."
"You've both settled in okay?" He turns his eyes on me.
"Yeah, pretty well."
"Any issues with other students?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Um… no. Nothing unusual. Why?"
"No reason. Just making sure you're happy."
"Yeah, it's good. Our dorm rooms are great. The other guys seem cool," I say, thinking of those we share a communal kitchen and living area with.
"That's good."
Awkward silence falls over the three of us, and I meet Alex's eyes over the table.
"You're a Gravestone U alumnus, right? What advice have you got to help us survive the next four years?" Alex asks, breaking the tension and reminding me why I always drag him here with me. If it's just Uncle Marcus and me, we end up eating in an uncomfortable silence. It's hell.
He nods to himself for a second as he thinks. "Enjoy these first two weeks. When the real work starts, you're going to wish you could go back in time."
"First two weeks? I thought we could have fun for at least the first two years," Alex jokes.
Marcus gives him a knowing smile before Brenda steps into the room with tonight's dinner.
Alex chats away about total bullshit as we eat, and I'm grateful for his verbal diarrhea keeping the awkwardness at bay. I hate this house.
