by Jamie Ott
Champagne Confines
Vampin Book Series XX
Jamie Ott
Copyright © Jamie Ott 2013. All rights reserved. No parts of this work may be used without written permission. For more information, please use contact details at the end.
Mimosas
Chapter 1
Every morning, they woke to Romanian radio. Through the intercom it blasted the news, letting them know it was time to get up, make their beds, brush their teeth and go to breakfast. You didn’t want to mess up the morning routine, either, because you’d be confined in your room for the rest of the day.
She got out of bed and put on her jeans and tee shirt. A quick brush through her hair and she went out to breakfast.
The fluorescent lights flickered as she walked down the bright hall.
“Good morning,” said Mikaela the prison guard.
In the café, most of her jail mates were already sat down to coffee and eggs. Only this morning, everyone had light orange substances in up plastic glasses.
“Hi, Starr,” said her new friend, Jana – only it was pronounced hana. “Mimosas today!” She raised her plastic champagne glass and shook it lightly.
Starr smiled and said, “Sweet!”
She walked up to the buffet and got a tray. Lately, she’d been craving ice cream like crazy. Every morning, alongside her omelet, she had a bowl of the chocolate frosty. Something about the way the cold touched her tongue, followed by hot coffee made it taste even better.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into ice cream,” said Jana.
“So be it!”
She took a large spoonful down.
“You know,” said Jana’s friend, Morenia. “You are very strange. I mean, this isn’t hardcore jail, but even we aren’t entirely happy to be here.”
“Well, let’s just say that I’ve been long overdue for a vacation.”
She took a long swig of her coffee and started on her eggs.
“You never told us what you did,” Jana said.
Starr froze with her fork midair. Then she took the bite and said, “I’m surprised you don’t already know. And since you don’t, I’d rather not say. Besides, you two haven’t been quick to tell me what you’ve done, either. In fact, it seems like no one wants to speak of why they’re here.”
“Some of us have reputations to protect,” Morenia replied.
“Oh, so you assumed that I don’t?”
“Well, no, but you’re obviously enjoying yourself – a little too much, I might add.”
After breakfast, Starr, Jana and Morenia went outside and played a few games of tennis. Starr, occasionally, pretended to miss a hit, though she never let them win.
“You can’t be beat” said Morenia. “You must come and play with me and my family at our country club. You’ll be admired.”
“I’d love that,” Starr said and smiled.
Smiling was something she’d done a lot of these days. Reading, movies, champagne and good company was her life the last few weeks. The only thought that brought her down was that it would end soon, and she didn’t know what was next in her life.
“You will come, and then you’ll have a real vacation!”
After a few more rounds, Jana and Morenia went to Mass off site while Starr was called to the visitors lounge.
Marla and Shane sat at a table looking curious.
“So how are things in here?” asked Marla with a smirk.
“Good.”
“The construction crew arrived today. They’re sifting through the rubble and trying to use as much of it as they can.”
“Okay, great.”
“We wanted to check up on you before we leave for Thailand. Are you eating well? Drinking well?” asked Shane.
“Yeah, I’m managing; it’s fine. How’s Council business?”
“Everyone’s freaking out, but it’s only natural. They’ll get over it soon.” Then she pulled out a tablet and said, “I have some things I want to go over with you. The Monterey Property: Since you’re no longer working for the Council, you have to find other ways to fund it.”
Monterey was an old restored Victorian home in California. Reportedly, it was haunted and people regularly came to visit. It was a financial loss and a tourist attraction.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about my situation, and there’s no other way. I don’t know what my future holds, and I have no idea where my next paycheck is coming from. So I’m gonna start selling off homes and castles.”
“I’ll get Marxus on it.”
“No, I’ve got someone in mind.”
After wishing them a safe trip, Starr called Parker. He was an Englishman she’d met many years ago. He was well connected, and worked as a real estate agent in the nineteenth century. Starr had a feeling he’d move her properties and get her good prices.
“Wow, what a surprise!” he said. “Are you calling me from jail?”
Starr laughed and said, “Yeah!”
“Is it bad?”
“No, actually, it’s what Americans call white collar. Don’t get me wrong, though; there are some downer parts to being even in this kind of place.”
“How can I help you?”
“I quit the Council, and unfortunately, I don’t have enough money to cover reconstruction of my father’s castle. However, I have some properties to sell. But If I don’t get enough to cover the construction costs, and the castle doesn’t get finished, then the judge will come after me again.”
“How much time have you got?”
“At first, I need to sell quickly, because I need a few million euros to get started on what they called Phase I construction.”
“How many properties are we talking about?”
“That’s the problem: I’m not sure because every few years, something pops up. It seems, in Credenza’s time, property was worth more than money, so instead of growing bank accounts, she accumulated mass amounts of properties over the last two millenniums. We’re talking houses, land and castles that are too expensive to maintain. Some of which are a grain of sand away from tumbling and returning to dust.” Starr sighed and then continued. “Now, here’s the second problem: Minister Gabor, of national culture and patrimony, has been eyeing all of my known properties and has served me several notices of impending take over.”
“Right,” he interrupted. “That’s the law, here: If you don’t maintain your historical asset, they can take them.”
“Yes and I need you to sell those properties first.”
“Yeah, otherwise you’ll lose money,” he said. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s all, except I just want you to sell until there’s enough to pay for my father’s castle and so that I can start a new life. If you should reach that point, then you can stop selling. So basically, this could be a few years worth of work.”
“Okay, can you send me some contracts? I’ll have my lawyer look them over.”
“Yeah, I’ll have Shane send you everything you need.”
Messing with Misses