CHAPTER 8

Several days had passed from the time when the dinner social with the Osbourne family occurred. Since then, the Armâge family settled in nicely with the Smiths in the Old House, hosting a late but enjoyable birthday party for Reginald and Syerren. With the weather getting colder and drawing in more guests for the coming holiday, work at the hotel remained busy.

It was cold late afternoon when Reginald went around putting magazines and newspapers for the day. Turning around hearing a bell ring at the desk, he walked out of the drawing room seeing a long term guest waiting. “Hello Aubrey. How are you doing today? How are your studies going?” Listening to him talk of his schooling and how he was struggling in some classes, Reg nodded, “Yeah I’m sure it could be a challenge especially contrasting to schools in Europe. So what could I do for you?”

"Well you see, I received this letter here a few days ago from London. Appears my mother and father are planning on coming in for a visit for several days, perhaps longer. Was wondering if you had any rooms available for them? Eh, I suppose if not then one of those, you know, roll away type beds?" Aubrey questioned, smirking slightly. "Haven't slept in the same room as my folks since I was a young boy, so I can only imagine that would be quite a disaster now if you know what I mean, mate," Aubrey grinned, leaning on the counter. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who is greatly blessed with an abundance of knowledge of nineteenth century British and American histories do you? I just have a few facts I need to cross check and have had it up to here with books for a while."

Checking over the books to see what he had available as Aubrey went on about his studies then needing help, Reginald looked up from his book then turned behind him, “Well I wish I could help you there; however, we have an extensive library that might help you out in your findings. Looking back to his bookings he smiled, “Your parents are welcome to come; we should have room late that afternoon early evening.”

As he moved from the desk to the stairs, Reg turned back to Aubrey, “Come to think of it, I have a friend, his name is Simon; he for some account knows a lot of history. Perhaps if I see him I’ll send him your way.”
“Yes, thank you. I could use all the help you can provide.”

“Sure thing, Reg smiled. Seeing then the front door open he gestured, “Oh and here he is now. Hey Simon,” going over to him, “I don't know if you met Aubrey Dawson, he’s a college student from England and staying here for a semester. He wanted help on history.”

Deciding to stop over at the hotel for a while to visit with Reginald, Lauryn, and the baby while Amy and Cecillia were out on their one of many shopping sprees, Simon entered, being immediately whisked off into a task. Having yet to meet Aubrey despite his many trips over to the hotel, Simon was quite pleased with the young mans apparent knowledge and blunt charm. Proof reading the essay which he had started and tweaking some of the dates and historical facts, Simon handed the essay back to Aubrey as he stood up from his desk. "I'd say you have quite the brain on your shoulders and didn't really need much help from me after all," Simon smiled, gazing out the nearby window at the setting sun.

"Yeah, well, history has always been a fascinating subject for me, but I wanted to make sure to ace this essay. My continued scholarship here in the States kind of depends on it," he smirked. "So, are you some kind of history buff or something?"

"Or something," Simon commented, pulling his attention back to Aubrey as he moved towards the door of his room. "Lets just say, when you get to be my age, something as simple as your childhood becomes a part of history. I grew up with history, so it's not so difficulty to navigate." Leaving the room then and leaving Aubrey to his thoughts, Simon returned back downstairs to find Reginald sitting at the check in desk with his nose in a book.

"Anything exciting going on around here?" Simon questioned, heading into the drawing room to pour himself a drink. "Almost seems a little lonesome now that most of your guests have all checked out; perhaps your parents could move back in," he added sarcastically, going back into the foyer. "I am only kidding of course; having your folks back in the house is a nice change. Forgot how crowded it used to be, and can't walk around in the nude any more, but it's nice."

Looking up after scribbling one more signature, Reginald smiled, “I’m sure you’re happy to have them there. Just like old times.” Getting up he stopped and questioned, “Did you manage to help Aubrey out? I’m sure he appreciates your help. He’s a good kid can’t imagine his parents letting him travel so far. I mean wouldn’t mind travelling to other countries for fun but to study?”

Seeing Simon wasn’t paying attention, he scoffed, “guess I’m rambling again. You know you should watch how much you drink Simon. I would hate for you know . . . something bad to happen or something you would regret,” then left the man to his thoughts as he went upstairs.


A half an hour or so had past as Vladimir entered through foyer having an arm load of supplies for the hotel as well as mail that was for Reginald and or Lauryn. Setting everything down, he glared at Simon sitting down staring at the flames in the fireplace. “Best be careful mate; must remember fire isn’t you’re best of friends.

Watching as he turned around with a glass in his hand and a near empty bottle in another, he sighed, “Oh not this again; you really should cut down on the drinking, sir.”
“You are mistaking!” Simon protested, I haven’t drink’en enough! By the way come with me. I have a task for you.”

“A task? What sort of—” helping him up following Simon out then stopping at the hall.
“Reginald hasn’t seen it yet but there’s a balloon up there near the chandelier. You think you can be a bat and get that before he sees it.”

“You’re joking right?!”

"No, no, Vladimir! I'm being completely serious. Don't you see it, just there?" Simon questioned, belching as he sat down his glass and bottle, then grabbed a broom. "Look, I'll point it out since apparently you really are blind as a bat!" he exclaimed, jabbing the broom handle in the air towards the chandelier. "See it, right there!" Simon exclaimed, dropping then the broom as he looked at Vladimir. "Well what the hell are you doing just standing there? Shoo! Off you go and get the balloon!" he smirked, then throwing his arms down in protest as he went into the drawing room grabbing another whole bottle of brandy, opening it and dumping it down his throat. "Quite the pity you haven't the appetite for this stuff mate. Surely don't know what you are missing," Simon said, putting an arm around Vlad's shoulders, leaning on him slightly. "So, about that balloon."

Examining Simon, all the while wishing he would knock off his drinking habits, Vladimir turned and faced him, halting his movement. “Listen Simon, you aren’t well. Let me take you home and . . .” he paused as Simon moved passed him gesturing about the balloon as if he was a child. “Alright, dammit alright, I’ll get it!” moving back in the foyer with him. But you have to make a deal with me Mr. Smith. Seeing he turned glaring at him, promise me no more alcohol until the end of the year.”

“But Vladimir . . .” he whined still focused on the chandelier.

“Oh fine until Christmas then,” catching then a nod from him, Vlad sighed looking up and muttering, “The things I do,” and vanished as a small bat hovered in his place and soared up to the top, clinging on the support rail and looked down not finding a balloon but instead dirt and debris from long ago. Prepared to return back to the floor, Vlad hesitated as he heard then saw Reginald emerge from upstairs.

After serving a guests needs after falling ill, Reginald was prepared to see if the cook could make a soup for him. Seeing Simon in the center of the room, he glared and spoke, “What’s going on Simon?” Looking up himself to what he was looking at, he glared, “What is that?”

"Why, a bat of course," Simon said in a matter of fact sort of way.

"Well, what the hell is it doing in here?" Reginald yelled, not at all amused at Simon just standing, staring at it. "Move over Simon, or help me get rid of it!" Reginald exclaimed, quickly grabbing the broom that Simon had earlier, and running over to the stairs, attempting to reach the ceiling with it but having no luck as the bat started flapping around. "Damn it Simon! How did it even get in here?"

"Hey, hey Reginald. Don't be hitting the bat now. It's just getting that balloon up there. Don't you see the big blue balloon?" Simon then questioned.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Reginald yelled back at him, frantically swinging at the bat that was flying quickly around the room, until finally making contact with it, as the bat fell flat to the ground.

"Oh no! You killed it!" Simon yelled, running over to the bat and picking it up. "How could you kill him, Reginald? He only just came back in town and was just trying to get your stupid balloon and you went and killed it!" Simon continued, leaning up against the raining. "I am too drunk or not drunk enough for this," he then said, grabbing a box full of envelopes on the check in counter, pouring out the envelopes and dropping the bat in it. "I'll be outside burying your poor, departed father. May he forever rest in peace. Death by a broomstick!"

Reginald was prepared to clean up the mess while figuring that the creature must have gotten in through a chimney or something while hoping there weren’t anymore. Before however he was able to do that, he watched as Simon was prepared to bury the bat as if it was his pet. “Look Simon, seriously . . .” hearing him protest, and went outside and walked near the patio, leaving the box there and grabbing up some dirt and putting it on top of it.

“Rest in peace Buddy.” he sobbed then turned as Reginald was staring at him, “Reg, people need to know! Go to the Old House and get your uncle. Get your mother, get Lauryn’s mother. Hell, get my mother! Everyone! It’s such a sad evening!”

Sighing deeply while feeling bad for Simon, figured someone at the Old House would know what to do for him. Patting him, he nodded, “Okay Simon but go on inside, its cold out.” then left to search for help.

A few minutes past, as Vladimir awoke after his collision with a broomstick. Looking around realizing he was in an enclosed area, he scrambled about then dug his way out of the box, into the cold air. Quickly looking around for anyone near, he morphed back into himself feeling a small head ache from the experience. Taking in a deep breath then rising to his feet, he pushed his hair out of his face focusing on Simon’s location then glared furiously, wanting to destroy the drunken man his best mate had become.

Making the two doors to the hotel swing open, Vladimir marched through the foyer screaming out Simon’s name unbeknownst to who might be here. Seeing him on the he glared exposing his canine fangs, “You’ve got some nerve you utter bastard!” Grabbing Simon by the throat toppling the couch he was sitting on. “How many God awful times will it take for me to bail you out of each drunken act you pull Simon!”

"Vladimir! My buddy! My pal! You're alive!" Simon exclaimed, shoving Vladimir off of him as the two rolled off of the overturned sofa onto the floor. "Oh man, I thought for sure you were dead back there," Simon said, putting a hand on Vladimir's shoulder before he quickly stood, then helped Simon up. "But about that balloon though? Do you think you managed to get it down?" As Vladimir suddenly came at him again, shoving him up against the wall, Simon stepped out of the way at the last moment, running into an antique vase, knocking it off of a table. "Hope that wasn't one of a kind," he muttered, then looking back at Vladimir just as he punched him in the face and fell to the floor.

Hearing Reginald calling his name, Simon opened his eyes, realizing he was still on the floor of the hotel in the drawing room but it was a little light outside. "What happened here?" he questioned, sitting up, feeling an aching pain on the right side of his face.

"Not sure exactly but my father told me to leave you here and let you tough it out," Reginald replied, helping Simon stand.

"How long have I been here? What time is it?"

“It’s quarter past seven in the morning. And I don’t know what you did last night Simon but my place is a mess!” Going over to the chairs and gesturing towards the walls. “Look there’s holes and cracks in the walls and over turned furniture and the vase the Osbourne’s gave us. Honestly, what the Hell!? I was hoping you would just go bed last night but no. I mean how am I supposed to run a business?”

Feeling a pressure on his head that continuously pounds, Simon looked around the room then shrugged, “Don’t . . . worry about it okay?”

“Worry about it? What am I to do then? Simon you’re supposed to be an adult here and all you’re doing is acting like a child.”

Turning around as the door opened, Reginald tensed thinking more guests were arriving to this state. Relieved in seeing it was Cecillia then his mother he sighed of relief. "Hello Cecillia, Mother."

"Goodness it was worse than I thought." Amy spoke, moving into the drawing room. "Your father told me of what happened and we figured it would be best helping Simon back home after he sobered up. I'm terribly sorry about this dear."

"Yes, I too do apologize for all of this and will assure you that my silly husband will be back later today to help you clean up all of this mess," Cecillia said, grabbing on to Simon's arm as he leaned on her slightly, despite the differences in height. "You've got to stop all of this careless binge drinking, Simon," Cecillia then said as Reg and Amy started talking among themselves. "I don't like the thought of you out somewhere drinking yourself crazy and getting into trouble. You're lucky you don't get yourself-"

"Killed?" Simon suddenly erupted. "As if that were a possibility. Some times I can only dream of being dead at last," he muttered, as Cecillia suddenly let go of him.

"Oh yeah? Is that what you want so bad? To be dead! To leave me with the responsibility of raising a baby that is partly your doings to begin with! Fine, whatever, go lay back down on the floor and just die if you want to; see if I care, Simon. I have been married to you for over twenty years now and for he last five of it I've had to put up with you and your erratic behavior and your drinking and your love for lap dances and the such from the whores down at the whore house!" Turning then towards Amy who had stopped talking to Reginald with all the commotion, she glared at her, then headed towards the door. "Come on Amy; that fool can find his own way back home, but he'll find that the door will be locked!"

"Better set it on fire baby, cause I'm coming in otherwise!" Simon yelled back, then picked up an empty glass bottle and threw it hard towards the front door, causing it to hit just as the door closed, shattering into many pieces. Looking then at Reginald as he pulled off his shirt, wiping his sweaty face before throwing it on the ground, Simon approached him "Got an extra room here boy? And you had better tell me yes."

Standing mortified by what had just occurred, Reginald groaned while having seen Simon behave after having a few drinks but never like this, he nodded then sighed, “Yeah whatever just when get you get back on your feet do give me a hand with this mess,” glancing at the book as to what rooms are available. Tossing him the keys to the far off room in the corner, he gave him a light shove, “But don’t think this will solve everything Simon and you should go home.” Then left the room to his troubles.