The doorbell rang at about 4:45, 15 minutes after we had arrived. I opened the door to see a 20 year old college kid, not what I was expecting.
“So, you’re Matthew?” I asked.
He shrugged, “I generally use Matt, but Matthew works too.”
I nodded, “Alrighty then. Well, they’re already upstairs, I’ll take you to them.”
He grunted what I guess was an “ok” as he glanced around. I looked him over. Rich, obviously. He had that smirk that made you automatically not trust him. But there was more. Apart from the black eyes, the uncaring stance and the designer clothes, there was something about him that screamed untrustworthy.
I led him to the room at the top of the stairs, where Bradley and Cynthia were waiting-her face a perfect mask, hiding absolutely every flicker of emotion.
Bradley stepped forward, in front of Cynthia I noticed. “Hey, I’m Brad.” he said, taking Matt’s hand.
“You must be Cynthia.” Matt said, turning his hand towards her.
She didn’t move.
“Let’s get on with it Brad.” She mumbled, closing the door.