Bob Appavu
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Bonus Prose: Belmont, Installment 2
🕑 Added 2019-08-26 22:11:41 +0000 UTCSoooo, it's been a huge struggle this month to find time to get the next chapter out for Merritt's Story, due to my publishing deadlines (my first book releases NEXT WEEK) and my work schedule just generally being a nightmare. Y'all Merritt's Story readers have been so patient, but I just need a little more time because the next chapter is such a good one and I want to get it right.
August is also a big month for Patreon rewards because I have the sketch tier sketches to do. So you can expect to see lots of stuff from me over the next several days - the sketches, Pogo's monthly letter, and the Secret Gallery art.
But in the meantime, I wanted to share something that you Merritt's Story readers/Belmont fans might like. Way way way back, I posted the first installment of "Belmont's Story" to Patreon. It isn't an official project; it's just some casual prose I'd been working on for fun that I decided to share.
Well, guess what? I have another installment. :P
If you missed part one, or if you need a refresher, you can read it here. Also, I don't know how many of these I'll have, but anything I post will be tagged with -belmont story-.
This one takes place after the previous scene. Quick recap: Belmont's dad has refused to give him the place-keeping bribe he needs to get an elite job interview, so now he's out on the road trying to line up an interview without it.
Apologies in advance for a certain someone being super gross. D: (Just try to remember that he eventually gets what's coming to him. ^_^)
Anyway, here it is!
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“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t offer tours to the general public.”
The receptionist was perfectly polite, but Belmont felt the fleeting urge to reach across the desk and throttle her. He’d entered the Northern Chem office, sweet-talked his way through security, and approached the receptionist with the same faux warmth he’d give a longtime acquaintance—striking up a conversation and peppering her with just enough compliments to earn a smile without being overbearing. But the second he’d touched on the subject of job openings, she’d unmercifully shut him down.
He’d been to Northern Chem more times than he could remember. The summer before college, he even interned there—or at least, he’d done the sort of light, breezy version of interning that only the boss’s son could get away with. Hands-on work experience wasn’t supposed to be a necessity for someone of his status, especially not with the grades he was getting.
Over the years, his dad had gone from being the boss of the nearest Northern Chem branch to the CEO of the entire company. Having moved to the headquarters office, he no longer had any involvement in low-level hiring here—a good thing, since having him around was no longer a benefit to Belmont. But that didn’t mean Belmont couldn’t still use his name.
“I’m not asking for a ‘tour,’” Belmont replied. “And I hardly qualify as the ‘general public.’” He gestured toward his surname on the business card he’d placed on the table, which the receptionist had refused to even touch. “I was just hoping to catch up with Jarvis or Maywood. They were doing great work back when my dad was running the place, and I can only imagine what types of spectacular drugs they’re putting out now. If you could just point me toward either of their offices….”
“I’m sorry, sir, but this is a private company. Both Maywood and Jarvis are too busy to take walk-in visits.”
“It’d be wise if you gave one of them a call and let them decide if they want to talk to me. I have a lot to offer that they—”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I’m going to need you to leave now.”
If only the receptionist were a man, Belmont could have tipped the scale from simple charm to outright flirting. He’d even managed to move the occasional straight man; with relations as hostile as they were in the underground, a well-timed stroke of the ego could make just about anyone malleable. But that approach had never worked with women. He was too blatantly gay for them to receive his flirtation with anything other than confusion, and he lacked the conviction to really sell it to a woman.
This woman wouldn’t budge. But it didn’t matter. Belmont flashed her a parting smile as if to assure her that there were no hard feelings—all the while plotting how he’d put Northern Chem out of business and put her out of a job as soon as he was powerful enough.
Once out of the building, he let out a heavy sigh. No choice but to move onto the next stop on his list.
By Friday evening, he’d hit up every pharmaceuticals establishment in every elite district including the business district on the North/Neutral border. Not a single one would give him the time of day. A few offered to let him talk to a recruiter if he had his place-keeping bribe ready in cash. He bluffed and said he’d come back with it the next day.
It was out of desperation that he approached North Sphere headquarters shortly before five. It was probably too late for him to get a meeting with anyone, and he hardly wanted one anyway. Government work wasn’t high on his list of preferences. Mannheim, his closest childhood friend, had graduated from the School of Technology two years before Belmont’s graduation and had landed a job in military intelligence. While senior managers and directors made a good living, entry level workers had it hard. Their hours were grueling, the pay was barely above the average IT and tech salary, and the consequences for slipping up on the job were dire.
Government poisons work was even less desirable. The real money and prestige came from the private drug companies. But Belmont was no longer in a position to be choosy. Surely there were departments at headquarters that oversaw the drug companies. At this point, he’d take a position even remotely related to drugs if it would just open a door for him. He was burning through his savings at light speed. Life in the elite districts was prohibitively expensive by design, and he’d never had a reason to learn how to live lean.
Ten minutes after entering North Sphere headquarters, he found himself having the same frustrating conversation with one of the receptionists as he had at Northern Chem.
How much trouble would I get into if I slapped a government worker?
He would never do it, but it was fun to think about it while staring down the receptionist with a wide, friendly smile.
“I ranked number two at the College of Science and Medicine this year,” Belmont said, his patience wearing thin. “You won’t even let me talk to someone? I’m willing to bet I’m more qualified than any of the entry level pencil pushers you brought on this year.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said in a tone so familiar it felt automated. “There’s nothing else I can do for you.”
“Just one interview,” Belmont pressed. “All I’m asking for is one interview. I promise you won’t regret it.”
The woman gave a sigh of surrender. “Okay. I might be able to get you through. If you have your place-keeping payment ready, I’ll see what kinds of openings we have.”
“Oh, you need the money right now?” Belmont asked. “I thought I could send it in after.”
The receptionist shook her head. “No, we need it upfront.”
Chewing his lip, Belmont said, “It might take me a bit of time to get to a bank and transfer funds.”
The receptionist glanced pitilessly at the wall clock. “If you don’t already have it on you, I won’t be able to fit you in for the day. It’s already after five.”
Even knowing that he’d been defeated, Belmont refused to concede. “Let me just make a phone call. I might be able to move things around.”
Of course, he could do no such thing. But he would continue bluffing as long as he was within sight and earshot of anyone at headquarters.
Heading down the hall, he approached the stairs leading to the Sheridan, an upscale restaurant that was open to the general public. He needed a drink, and if there was any place in reach where he might happen upon a conversation with an influential person, it was the Sheridan. He’d be dipping into the money he’d set aside for emergency supplies, but hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to replenish the funds.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The level of security at Headquarters far exceeded any other place he’d been to in the North. Even aside from surveillance cameras mounted on the walls and guards flanking every hallway, his presence always seemed to draw attention from bystanders. If he was denied the luxury of ever being inconspicuous, he’d use his perpetual spotlight to his advantage. Many a favor had come his way simply by catching the eye of the right person at the right time.
After climbing the grand staircase, he paused several yards away from the entrance to the Sheridan. That feeling of being watched had persisted, and it only grew stronger as the crowd around him grew thinner. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a stocky figure at the foot of the stairs, paused as if waiting for Belmont to gain more of a lead before following after him.
His heart surged as he recognized the man staring up at him. It was Higgins, right hand to the new King Damen Mercury. From Belmont’s position at the top of the stairs, he could see how sparse the hair was on top of Higgins’s head. For a right hand, he was ancient. Around fifty-five, if Belmont recalled. He wore oval glasses and a somewhat patchy five o’clock shadow, his clothes just a touch rumpled for a blue-tie. Belmont could read the signal he was sending out: he was so powerful he didn’t have to care if every wrinkle was ironed out of his shirt.
Belmont was turned off by the apathy Higgins seemed to show for his appearance. The power, on the other hand—that was something Belmont could use to his advantage.
He flashed Higgins a seductive smile over his shoulder before continuing down the hall.
The doorman nodded respectfully at Belmont as he crossed the threshold into the restaurant. At least the help was able to recognize him as an elite. When someone didn’t belong at a high-end establishment, it was easy to tell. Usually their body language was the first thing to give them away. But as far as Belmont was concerned, there was no establishment in the underground that would ever be off limits to him, regardless of his rank. If he didn’t have clearance, it was only because the clearance he deserved hadn’t yet been given.
With all the ease of someone approaching their own kitchen counter, he headed for the bar and took the seat nearest the bartender—a cute guy, probably Belmont’s age but without the elite upbringing. He had the welcoming but overly toothy smile of a straight guy forcing himself to turn up the charm in hopes of better tips.
Belmont played along. He didn’t care if the bartender’s gesture was genuine as long as he worked his ass off to sell it. And if he did a good job, Belmont would gladly toss him a bit of extra cash. “Hey,” he said, softly enough to force the bartender to lean in closer to hear. “You make a good cosmo?”
This was always Belmont’s first test of a bartender—seeing how well they handled a drink order that normally got him a few raised eyebrows from the nearest patrons. The bartender didn’t miss a beat. “The best in the underground,” he replied with that same mannered smile.
“I’ll have to try it next time,” Belmont cooed. “But for tonight, I’ll have an old fashioned.”
The bartender said something charming in response, but Belmont’s attention had already shifted to the entrance. Higgins had finally arrived. The North Sphere right hand scanned the area before walking further into the bar. His eyes didn’t pause on Belmont, but Belmont could tell that Higgins had noticed him.
He returned his attention to the bartender who’d turned away to grab a bottle of bourbon, admiring his ass as he prepared the drink. That in itself was probably worth an extra dollar or two in tips.
The bartender returned to Belmont with the drink. Belmont began to thank him, but halfway through his sentence, he felt a heavy, overly familiar hand on the nape of his neck, and a voice by his ear said, “Put that on my tab.”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender said, lowering his head in a half-nod, half-bow. He continued on to his next patron without another smile at Belmont; apparently he’d decided it wasn’t worth turning up the charm if Belmont wasn’t the one paying for the drink.
The heavy hand slid down between his shoulder blades. It felt… gross. But Belmont accepted it without hesitation, turning and meeting eyes with Higgins.
Higgins looked a lot bigger than he did on TV, or at the foot of the stairs. He was still likely a couple inches shorter than Belmont, but he was hefty and broad-shouldered, with a bit of a paunch. Higgins let his eyes sweep hungrily up and down Belmont’s body before blinking away the obvious lust and pasting on a more genial smile. “I haven’t seen you here before. First time at headquarters?”
“I used to come to the Sheridan with my parents, back when I was a teenager. But I’ve been busy with college the past few years.” Unsubtly, he added, “I just graduated number two at the College of Science and Medicine.”
“Impressive,” Higgins said, giving Belmont a pat on the back that felt more intimate than congratulatory. “That should open a lot of doors for you.”
“Absolutely,” Belmont replied. “I practically have first pick of any job I want.”
“And your first choice is a government job?” Higgins asked skeptically.
Belmont wasn’t sure why Higgins had assumed that. “Not necessarily. I want to be a poisons scientist. If you’re hiring those at headquarters, then great. But I’d have to compare it against my other offers.”
Higgins slid into the seat beside Belmont. “What other offers are on the table?”
“My dad is head of Northern Chem, so I have a guaranteed spot waiting for me there,” Belmont bluffed. “But Northern Chem focuses more on blockers and pharmaceuticals. Lakeview Labs is more up my alley. They do straight-up poisons.”
“And Lakeview Labs has made you an offer?”
Belmont got the sense that Higgins planned to follow up on whatever he said. “Not yet, but I’m sure it’s in the works.”
“But you’ve interviewed with them.”
Belmont pressed his lips together with annoyance. “It’s scheduled.”
“When?”
Gritting his teeth, Belmont replied, “I have to check my calendar.”
“I get it,” Higgins said smoothly. “I can’t keep my meetings straight either. You’ll look forward to the day you hire your first personal assistant.”
“That day can’t come soon enough,” Belmont replied, pasting on a smile before taking a sip of his old fashioned.
“How’s the drink?” Higgins asked.
Of course, a compliment to the drink would be a compliment to the man who paid for it. “I could drink it every day. If I ever get a job at headquarters, I’m going to be in trouble.”
“And I’d do nothing but egg you on,” Higgins said, leaning in.
“Sounds like you’re a bad influence,” Belmont purred.
“The worst.” Higgins held his eye contact for a moment. Then, in a manner that sounded just a bit staged, he reached toward Belmont’s face and said, “Oh, you have a fuzz here.” He brushed Belmont’s cheek with rough fingertips. Then his fingers wandered across Belmont’s temple to his hair. Higgins’s hand relaxed as if to withdraw, but instead he let the backs of his fingers slide suggestively down Belmont’s cheek.
This was a test to see how Belmont would react to the touch. Higgins was trying to see if he was receptive.
Belmont leaned into the touch, meeting Higgins’s gaze again. Higgins’s eyes lit up. The man was undeniably gross, but to Belmont, there was something fun about leading on desperate guys like this. The more lecherous and creepy they were, the more fun it was to dangle the bait—and then go home with someone a hundred times cuter.
Higgins looked Belmont up and down again. A slight smile playing across his lips, he gestured with his head toward a nearby booth. “Come and sit with me. Talking at the bar is a pain in the ass.”
Belmont grabbed his old fashioned and followed Higgins to the secluded corner booth. It was only after they’d gone halfway across the room that he noticed the “reserved” card on the table and the velvet rope blocking the booth. A waiter, spotting Higgins, quickly approached the booth and removed the rope and card. Higgins ushered Belmont into one of the seats before taking the opposite side.
When the waiter pulled out a pair of menus and attempted to hand them out, Higgins held up a hand. “We’re not eating tonight,” he said. “But get me a glass of Roseland red and another old fashioned for the gentleman.”
Belmont conjured his poker face before he could stare longingly at the retreating menus. He’d had a small lunch, and he was starving. He’d also barely taken more than two sips of his drink and was nowhere near ready for a second.
He’s trying to get me drunk.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Higgins said.
“It’s Belmont.”
Higgins didn’t introduce himself; he seemed to assume that Belmont already knew who he was. “Right, right. You said your dad ran Northern Chem. But I thought maybe you’d decided to go by your given name instead of your surname.” He raised an eyebrow. “Most people do, if they share their surname with a parent they’re unlikely to eclipse in fame.”
“That’s true,” Belmont said, masking his ire with a good-natured smile. “But I don’t fall into that category, so Belmont will suit me just fine.”
“Confident,” Higgins mused, giving Belmont a wink. “I like that.”
“I have no reason not to be,” Belmont replied.
The waiter returned with two glasses of water and a promise to bring the drinks in just a moment. After he left, Higgins leaned back in his booth seat, taking off his glasses and chewing on one of the stems. “So,” he said, “if you have a guaranteed seat at Northern Chem of all places, why are you wasting your time seeking out jobs at headquarters?”
Belmont could feel the challenge in Higgins’s question. “I like to have choices. The more offers I get, the more leverage I’ll have when negotiating pay.”
“Headquarters won’t pay more than a private lab,” Higgins said. “Not for poisons or pharmaceuticals, anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you one of those kids who hangs around headquarters hoping to catch a glimpse of Mercury? He’s got quite the following.”
Belmont could easily see the envy in Higgins’s eyes, and it caught him off guard. It seemed Higgins was jealous of all the attention his King was getting—but why? They seemed to have a good working relationship—at least by North Sphere standards. This jealousy seemed more personal than professional, but Belmont had never read anything in the news about Higgins being gay. Regardless, he knew the right answer to give. “Mercury is impressive,” he said, leaning in across the table. “But he’s not really my type.”
“What’s your type?” Higgins asked, holding Belmont’s eye contact.
Belmont didn’t reply. As he took a sip of his water, he let his smiling eyes linger on Higgins.
The waiter returned with Higgins’s wine and a second old fashioned for Belmont. After he was out of earshot, Higgins returned his attention to Belmont. “Tell me, Belmont.”
“Tell you…?”
“Your type.”
Damn, was Higgins really going to make him do this? Belmont had a type, all right—sweet, innocent guys with cute smiles and great bodies. Higgins’s polar opposite. But unless a sweet, innocent guy with a cute smile and a great body was about to saunter into the Sheridan and offer Belmont a job, he had to play along. “How ‘bout a silver fox who’s strong enough to toss me over his shoulder?”
Higgins stared back at Belmont, subtly licking his lips. Then his gaze shifted. “You know, Belmont, I’m not sure how flattered I should be.”
“Why’s that?”
“I can’t tell if you’re genuinely attracted to me…” oddly, his smile widened, “…or if you’re just desperate because you’ve got no place-keeping bribe.”
A sudden shot of adrenaline coursed through Belmont’s veins, but he kept his composure. “That’s not even worth a question,” he purred, gazing deeply into Higgins’s eyes. “The look in your eyes alone is enough to make me hard. How could you even doubt that anyone would be attracted to you?”
Higgins reached across the table, grabbing Belmont’s wrist. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But you don’t have a place-keeping bribe. Do you?”
“Of course I do,” Belmont replied immediately. “You know who my dad is. You can see that I’m an elite.”
“I also heard you down in the lobby, begging for an interview and saying you had to move some funds around because you didn’t have the bribe on you.” His grip suddenly tightened on Belmont’s wrist, and the look in his eyes darkened. “Don’t play me for a fool, boy.”
Higgins’s grip hurt. It took all Belmont’s effort not to wince.
“I get guys like you coming after me all the time, trying to see what they can get out of me.”
“But I didn’t come after you,” Belmont challenged. “You followed me up here. You offered to buy my drink.” He locked his unwavering gaze on Higgins. “You’re right; maybe I’m looking for something. But so are you.”
Slowly, Higgins loosened his grip on Belmont’s wrist, but he didn’t release it completely. “You’re obviously an elite. Why don’t you have the bribe money?”
Belmont paused, considering his answer. Higgins was smart. Too smart. And he had enough connections to easily unravel any yarn Belmont attempted to spin. “My dad refused to pay it,” he said at last. “Because I came in second at the College of Science and Medicine instead of first.”
Higgins appeared all too satisfied with the answer Belmont gave him. He shook his head, letting out a low whistle. “That’s pretty damn harsh, isn’t it?”
“He’s an asshole anyway,” Belmont muttered. “And I don’t see why I can’t get to where I need to go without him. He had nothing to do with my grades in college. He had nothing to do with the connections I’ve made.”
“But you won’t get an interview if you don’t have that bribe money,” Higgins said.
Belmont met eyes with Higgins, unable to look away even though he knew his desperation was beginning to seep through. “All I need is one person to give me a chance. Just one person to see that I’m worth more than that bribe money. There isn’t a single fucking job in poisons that I wouldn’t do better than anyone else.”
Higgins took a shallow sip of his wine. Then, a mysterious smile on his face, he asked, “Belmont, have you ever thought about getting involved in politics?”
Belmont’s brows furrowed. “No,” he said emphatically.
“Not even a little?” Higgins asked, cocking his head.
“If politics was my goal, I wouldn’t have gone to the College of Science and Medicine.”
“Why did you go there, though?” Higgins stared deep into Belmont’s eyes, as if reading his soul. “I’ve spoken to a lot of people who went into drugs and poisons, and you know what? Almost none of them have a genuine interest in D&P. They go into D&P because it’s the most prestigious field in the North Sphere. It’ll get them status and recognition. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?” He ran a finger over the back of Belmont’s hand. “You can get that exact same thing with politics.”
Belmont frowned. “Yeah, fine—I need the status and recognition. But that doesn’t change the fact that I like poisons, or that I’m damn good at making them.”
“I’m sure you are,” Higgins said. “But I can tell just by talking to you that you have more skills than that. You’re the type of guy who’d go far in politics. I’d venture to guess you’d go even further than you would in poisons.”
Belmont gave Higgins a skeptical raise of the eyebrows.
“I’m serious. A guy as smart and smooth and charming as you? You have what it takes to get onto Mercury’s board of advisors one day.” Higgins took another sip of his wine. “Your dad owns the biggest poisons company in our sphere, but who has more power? Him, or the board of advisors?”
Belmont didn’t reply right away. What Higgins failed to acknowledge was that the path to get to a top political job started at rock bottom. An entry level poisons job was prestigious in its own right, but entry level politics usually involved serving someone higher ranking—cleaning up after them, getting their coffee, making their personal appointments. Belmont’s elite pedigree was supposed to have spared him from ever having to take that kind of position.
“I don’t want to spend the next two years getting coffee for a bunch of elites,” Belmont said at last.
“Without a place-keeping bribe, you’ll be getting coffee for fives and sixes. Would you rather have that?”
Belmont chewed sullenly on his lip as he stared down at the surface of the table in contemplation.
“You serve coffee for a year or two while you make a name for yourself. You may be doing service work here or there, but you’re not a servant. You’re an elite. Every time you serve one of Mercury’s advisors, you have the opportunity to make your mark on them. That’s how you open doors without a place-keeping bribe.” Higgins gave Belmont a smile that was apparently supposed to be reassuring but felt somehow menacing. “I’ve given this opportunity to a handful of Mercury’s current advisors already. You’re not the only elite who’s somehow lost their hold on their bribe.”
“Oh?” Belmont asked curiously. He’d heard stories of desperate elites selling themselves out in order to compensate for the loss of a bribe, but never a first- or secondhand account. Most elites were far too proud to ever let the general public know that their bribe had fallen through.
“There’s a cutie in military management—Pratt’s his name—whose dad gambled away his bribe money. I helped him get his foot in the door. He started out as my assistant, and just recently, he was promoted to deputy military advisor.” Higgins pulled a card deck out of his pocket, shuffling through it until he found Pratt’s card. He slid it across the table for Belmont to see. “Kid’s quite the looker. When he was in college, he moonlighted as a model—colognes, party drugs, ties. They put him in a video ad for Potent that was so hot people were paying to download copies of it off of porn sites.”
Belmont eyed the card without picking it up. Pratt was indeed stunning—angular cheekbones, intense eyes, sultry lips—but Belmont felt more jealousy than attraction. Pratt looked awfully young for such a prestigious job. He looked like he was barely out of college himself.
As if reading his mind, Higgins said, “Pratt studied political science, with a focus on North Sphere military history. He’s more knowledgeable on the subject than General Rhodes, if you ask me. He sees things as a scholar, while Rhodes only sees them as a soldier.”
Belmont raised an eyebrow. “So if I were to start as an assistant, where do you see me ending up?”
“It depends on your strengths and weaknesses,” Higgins replied. “You should be the one telling me where you’ll end up.”
“I know where I’ll end up,” Belmont said, cracking a sly smile. “But I also know better than to tell anyone else.” He had a feeling it wouldn’t have been the smartest move to tell Higgins he planned to someday take his job.
“Fair enough,” Higgins said, eyebrows raised. “You can keep that secret for now. Mind you, it won’t take me long to figure it out.” He took a slow sip of his wine, gazing at Belmont over the rim of his glass. His eyes seemed locked on Belmont’s lips.
Belmont licked his lips suggestively to see if it’d bring out any reaction from Higgins. Higgins narrowed his eyes, and Belmont spotted a predatory glint in them.
Higgins continued speaking as if nothing had changed. “Regardless of where you’re going to end up, what’s important now is where you’re going to start.” He traced his fingertips over the back of Belmont’s hand. “It just so happens Pratt’s old assistant position is still vacant. I’ve gotten jobs for countless unfortunate elites who couldn’t put together a bribe, but there are very few that I’m willing to take on as my own personal assistant. Usually, I’ll assign them to an advisor or let a director place them. But you….” Higgins dragged his index finger over Belmont’s knuckle before rubbing it suggestively between his index and middle fingers. “I think you and I would work well together.”
Clearly, Higgins was using the word “work” to cover more than just professional duties. But what exactly was Higgins expecting from him? Belmont could stomach a blow job here and there despite finding Higgins far more creepy than attractive. But job offering or not, he wouldn’t go further than that. Not with someone as repulsive and dangerous as Higgins. Higgins hadn’t become right hand to a King by accident.
No point being coy. “I don’t bottom,” Belmont said bluntly.
Higgins’s mouth twitched, as if he was put off by the directness of Belmont’s statement. “I don’t recall asking you to.”
“Good,” Belmont replied deliberately.
Higgins glanced around the room, then returned his attention to Belmont. “This is not the appropriate place to talk specifics. My private office is on the sixth floor, just below my suite. Come up with me, and we’ll go over the duties I expect from my assistants.”
Belmont looked down at his half-full glass. “I was hoping to finish at least one of my drinks,” he said, feeling out just how much wiggle room he had.
“Finish that, and take the second one with you,” Higgins replied.
Without a response, Belmont sipped his drink. He tested how long he could draw out a sip, wondering if Higgins would get impatient. Higgins didn’t appear to care; he sat chewing the stem of his glasses while letting his gaze travel over Belmont uninhibited. Belmont could practically feel the trail of his wandering eyes.
One more test: Belmont slid his hand out from under Higgins’s and turned it over, taking Higgins’s hand in his for a moment before withdrawing.
As the King’s right hand, Higgins ranked as a 12—the queen card in the underground’s deck. Both he and the King were protected by the law of touch. Only people within two ranks of them were permitted to touch them. Anyone else had to ask permission first. Minors still under the care of a parent or guardian took the rank of their highest-ranking parent, and in the North Sphere, college students were allowed to hold their parent’s rank until six months past their graduation. A minor’s rank came with some limitations, but it also came with many perks—entry into VIP rooms, priority medical care, access to premium housing, and more.
Belmont’s dad, owner of Northern Chem, was a 10. Less than a month past graduation, Belmont would have still carried the same rank. But without a place-keeping bribe, his standing was nebulous.
However, Higgins hadn’t issued a challenge when Belmont had returned his touch. He’d accepted Belmont as ranking within two spots of him.
That rank would fall in five months—and if he took an entry level political job, it’d be a hard fall. He’d have to work his way back up to a ten. But at least for tonight, he could be a ten. He could face Higgins as a fellow elite instead of a powerless subordinate.
When the first old fashioned was finally gone, Higgins motioned with his head toward the second glass. “Let’s go.”
