“I’ve never thought I needed help to do those things, I mean maybe I do I don’t know…I’m a perfectionist” Juan swayed on the balls of his heel, a little chuckle escaping. “That’s a blessing and a curse,” he raised a brow, looking at Theo with a small smile. “But I love to hear it. It means you care about details, no matter how small.” Juan pulled out a card from his breast pocket, extending it to Theo. “Consider me a contact?”
The way Theo started towards the garden threw Juan off. Decisive, pivotal, emphatic. He followed, at a leisurely pace. He liked the kid, even if he was a little worried about this “legend”. Juan took a strawberry off the table and ate it in two bites when Theo mumbled, “Well that doesn’t look very safe…” Juan follows his gaze, coming to stand to his left. “Mmm,” he hummed in reply. That maze made him a little uneasy, his plan was to drop by and leave. Okay, maybe stay a few days just to see what Thomas planned but that was it. “I always liked the little mazes in coloring books growing up, but that… that doesn’t look like how I want to spend my afternoon.” He said easily, glancing over at Theo.
“Thank you, thank you. I just… I’m not normally like this. I just got lost, I don’t even know how.” Imogen also looked up at the hedges, then went up to them to feel the leaves and brush of the maze. It grounded her, and when she turned back to the panicking girl, she realized she was still walking around the maze—further. Rambling. Imogen followed her those couple steps, “I just walked in here like normal and all of a sudden I couldn’t find my way out. I thought I was retracing my steps, I thought-”
Imogen was starting to feel anxious herself, the girl’s energy radiating in waves. “Hey, hey, girly, let’s take a moment, okay? Why don’t we… sit?,” the woman was crouching, and Imogen followed suit, watching her. “You…okay?” Imogen said, brows creasing in worry. Oh, please please please don’t be having a panic attack. I am not equipped for this. But her eyes snapped open, like she was freshly out of a fog. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened… I’m not normally this…claustrophobic.”
Imogen nodded, feeling the same sensation creeping in. There was something about the maze. It wasn’t just the walls made of hedge; it was the way they seemed to shift and sway like the branches in a wind.
“Let’s focus on getting out, okay? We just need to—” Imogen began, but then she noticed something strange. A thin line appeared at the base of the hedge beside them, flickering like a shadow caught in the light. She had only noticed it now that they were crouched. Subtly, the hedge shifted, almost like a breath releasing, so little it wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were just watching the green. “Whoa!” Imogen fell onto knees, crawling over, her heart racing. “Did you see that?”
“The hedges… they—” she braised her hands along the wall, giving it a hard shove. Nothing. “—moved. I swear it just moved!” Imogen exclaimed, her gaze darting between the shifting walls of green that surrounded them. She pointed down, then decided to just dig around the grass until it revealed the thin outline of a track around the walls. She looked up at the woman, “no wonder….”
A random encounter? Interesting. Marcelle had assumed she herself had been an exception, invited thanks to her long standing professional relationship and contribution to his body of work. But it seemed the qualification was more obscure.
“I don’t know him well, either. Only through work. But now, I’m struggling to decipher how the guest list was decided.”
Aiva, she assumed the preferred way of reference, seemed as confused by the invitation as Marcelle was. At least Marcelle could reason why she may have been included, as she had at least known him for a long-time, if not well. But if it had only been a one-off meeting he had with Aiva, she couldn’t piece together why she was here. Mr. Miller did like to confuse, though, always wanting to be somewhat of a mystery himself.
She placed her cup back on its saucer, allowing the conversation to flow back to her. “I am an author, of a sort. ‘Writer’ always feels more appropriate. I do a lot of freelance.”
Aiva’s gut feeling deepened as Marcelle confirmed that the guest list was indeed very odd. She also had wondered how Mr. Miller had even managed to obtain her address to send the invite in the first place. After all, Aiva lived a private life even with modeling and nobody knew where she lived except for a few people. The idea of someone she trusted selling her out like this made her skin crawl.
Marcelle had more of a connection with Miller than Aiva, but still, she claims to not know him well either. Even though she just got here, it all started to feel like a mistake. The circumstances surrounding everything seemed off, and Aiva wished she could have sensed it sooner.
“I take it you enjoy writing then?”
Aiva wanted to ask more about Marcelle’s work however she knew nothing about writing outside of medical writing. She was slightly familiar with the term ‘freelancing’ but did not want to pry further or seem uneducated in her questioning.
“I’m more of a reader than a writer myself, I have an obsession with fantasy novels”, she smiled at the last part. Fantasy was her favorite genre, vampires, magic, all the works. Instead of eating on her lunch breaks, she would just read.
Something about Aiva’s demeanor was uncomfortable. Marcelle watched her shake it off, but let the silence grow for a moment before taking pity on her and responding.
“It’s a profession,” she answered placidly. “I can write well, and earn a living by it.” She took pride in all her work, but most of her writing was a matter of making something technically good that would satisfy her client, or sell well enough to provide some passive income. A craft rather than an art, in her eyes. The only thing she had published under her own name was her poetry, and at times she regretted that. It was by far her most vulnerable writing.
She offered Aiva a small smile, inclining her head conspiratorially. “I think reading is more enjoyable, personally. Though my own preferences fall under horror or non-fiction.”
Marcelle seemed mostly unexcited about her work, which was understandable considering that most people work to put food on the table, not because they love their jobs. Aiva was both lucky and grateful that she enjoyed both of her jobs and found them exciting in different ways. Studying the human brain had intrigued her since her childhood and she always had a knack for fashion and crocheting.
Aiva noticed Marcelle’s expression shift into a smile at the mention of reading, making Aiva smile in return. Books were truly one of Aiva’s passions, even her apartment had its own mini library. Her smile grew wider hearing that Marcelle also enjoyed horror novels, “I have only read a handful of horror novels, but they were exceptional!”. She paused for a second before adding, “I don’t typically read non-fiction outside of my professional work, but I do love to read, I’d also love some recommendations from you some time”.
“Of course. If anything comes to mind, I will let you know. Please be free to share if there are any fantasy novels you think I should chance.”
Marcelle read widely within non-fiction, though mostly focused on memoirs, politics, and philosophy. She liked to be specific when giving recommendations, and as such tended to reserve them for those she knew well. Aiva seemed pleasant enough, but Marce had yet to be sure of how relationships would develop in the strange environment. She had hope.
She took a sip of her tea, glancing over the other attendants once again.
“So,” Marcelle shifted her attention back to Aiva. “Can I ask what you do? I’m curious as to what brought you to accept such a mysterious invitation, and from a stranger no less.”
Drax was standing there in his own little world. Well that was until he heard a voice that could only ne calling out to him. “Hey, is something wrong? You look like you’ve been crying.” He got pulled back to reality and quicker than he wanted to. “Huh??? Who??? Me??? Sorry, just got pulled into a memory from the guy throwing this party.” He said as he turned his head to the voice. “I’m Drax, what’s your name?”
Kara could tell when someone was lying, and that was what this guy doing but instead of saying anything she just answered his question. "My name’s Kara."She said with a tight lipped smile. Then she awkwardly looked around the garden and let out a breath.
“Well, it’s definitely a nice day out here but I was hoping to go into the mansion. The maids told us we couldn’t yet but… I just cant help but wonder…” She studied the manor in the distance and noticed a gate that was slightly shielded by one of the hedges.
“I’m going into that house…you can follow me, or not.” Before waiting for an answer she started walking to the gate, the wind whipping through her hair and her shoes crunching on the grass. She felt a nervous excitement pass through her body as she walked pass people who didn’t know where she was going.
When she got to the gate she slowly lifted the handle and surprisingly it opened.
“the maid must have done a crappy job.” She mumbled, half to herself and to Drax if he was behind her. The rust made a small screeching sound and she walked through.
Kara managed to sneak into a backdoor of the manor and now she was slowly walking down one of the hallways. The walls were painted white and brown and the sunlight from the window made all of the antiques and trinkets even shinier. Her shoes made the floorboards creak and she knew that being careful was the best thing to do if she wasn’t allowed to be there.
Having just got off the plane from Los Angeles, Beau was now at this old guy’s mansion who was apparently his mom’s friend. He didn’t know much about him at all but if there was a chance to get all of his money he was in for it. He wondered if there were some hot girls entering the competition too.
The maids told him that he couldn’t go into the house yet, which he thought was weird - but hey, maybe Thomas Miller was the type to make a grand entrance and only have eyes on him.
Beau stood in the garden while scratching his head. He saw two dudes standing at a table that was the closest to him so he just decided to go over and make a joke. “Hey, you guys know where all the hot chicks are?” Then he started laughing because there was no way some beach babe was at a mansion that looked like it crawled out of a Grandma’s attic.
He walked away and started towards the maze. He wasn’t the smartest person, even he knew that himself, but maybe he can prove something to himself if he managed to get out of it.
Attending this event was really a spur of the moment decision, and surprisingly required little convincing. Her dad’s approval was the main push, without it she probably would have never given the invitation a second look. The explanation as to why she was here was not so clear-cut or easy to explain in a few words. But casting her disorganized thoughts aside, Aiva decided to answer her first question.
She gave a small giggle, thinking back to previous conversations where the same question was asked. Whenever she had talked about her jobs for the first time, they all looked at Aiva like she said something ground-breaking or earth shattering. It was always this mixed expression of confusion, shock, and disbelief, one that made Aiva laugh. Though this was almost always the reaction, something made Aiva believe that Marcelle would react differently.
“I graduated from school not too long ago and got a job as a Neurologist late last year”, she paused for a second to think about her next words, “I also started doing some modelling gigs, that’s where I met Mr. Miller, he was at one of the shows”. She tapped her fingernails on the mug, thinking of other things she could share, “This is my first time leaving China, my motion sickness makes it hard for me to travel anywhere”. Aiva gave a small smile as she finished her tea, anticipating Marcelle’s response.
A model and neurologist? Odd. Interesting. Modelling made sense aesthetically, Aiva had that look about her. But Marcelle knew the industry could be cutthroat. And if she was also a neurologist, she assumedly wouldn’t be strapped for cash. Was one just for the passion of it? Both?
“That’s one mystery solved. I can see why you would stick in the mind of Mr. Miller. You’re a very intriguing person, Aiva. I find myself intrigued, at least. What made you decide to go into modelling?”
Though her bank account often didn’t allow for it, Marcelle loved to travel. One of the reasons she loved living in the city was all the different walks of life congregated in so small an area-- even if she couldn’t afford to travel, there was always something new to do, someone new to meet.
“I haven’t had the chance to visit China, yet. I’ve only spent limited time outside of the US myself, as embarrassing as I find it.”
With a flattered smile spreading across her lips, Aiva found herself accepting what she assumed to be a compliment of her passions. She could not help but feel intrigued by Marcelle as well, her composed and relaxed aura was refreshing, and Aiva saw some of her own characteristics in Marcelle. Her composure and poise was most similar to Aiva’s. It was always something that Aiva admired about herself, and now, she admired Marcelle for the same reasons.
“You’re very kind, Marcelle. Most of my interest in modeling comes from fashion and designing. You could say that I always wanted to become a designer rather than a model, but I find them both exciting in their own ways.”
Aiva saw that next to the teas were little pastries, reaching for the blueberry scone, she took a small bite, leaving a trace of powdered sugar in the corner of her lips. Perhaps, she was better off eating an actual meal, because the taste of the pastry made her even more hungry. She listened as Marcelle talked about traveling while indulging in the sweets. Marcelle seemed to be interested in learning about different cultures and visiting different places, and Aiva could say the same about herself.
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Actually, I find it quite admirable that you are interested in traveling, most people that I know back home are not keen on traveling. They think that Shanghai has the best the world can offer. That being said, if you ever visit, I would love to show you my favorite spots.”
Feeling the stomach rumble incoming, she thought to ask Marcelle if she wanted to eat with her.
“I feel quite hungry”, she giggled, “Fancy a sandwich?”, she asked, directing her gaze towards the sandwich bar.