Life's What You Make It: Love's Great Adventure Book 1 Read online

  Astrid was failing miserably, too tipsy to effectively hit the ball. She threw her mallet at the ball instead and kicked her white tennis shoes off in frustration. She watched the projectiles fly over the bushes and the perfectly manicured grass, finally landing in a fountain, much to the amusement of the others.

  Sebastian ignored the shoes, picked up her mallet, and came up behind her. He enveloped her in his arms and placed his hands lightly on top of hers to guide the shot evenly through the wicket where it gently tapped the ball sitting on the other side. “I don’t think the shoes are your problem, Astrid,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Hmm, probably not,” she replied, turning her head to look at him, “but I like this.” She made sure to press her body closer into his.

  “You’re a very naughty girl,” he whispered.

  “Oh, you have no idea,” she replied with a wicked grin.

  Sebastian laughed, sweeping her up in his arms. “I think we need to get your shoes out of the fountain.” He walked over to the fountain and dropped Astrid into the chilly water.

  She sat there in shock, soaked head to toe, her wet hair matted against her head. The others laughed hysterically at her misfortune. Sebastian tried to walk away, but Astrid quickly gathered her senses and grabbed at his wrist, managing to dig her perfectly polished red nails into his skin just far enough to hold him, and she pulled him into the water with her. They embraced, both cold and wet, and laughed at themselves.

  “All in!” Oliver delivered the battle cry. At once, shoes were shed and landed haphazardly in the general direction of the fountain as bodies ran at full tilt to the beckoning mêlée. It was instant mayhem; they were splashing and laughing, unaware Alistair and Penelope were watching from the patio.

  “You’ve ruined my jumper,” Sebastian proclaimed.

  “I’ll buy you another,” Astrid replied.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I’m sure I can think of some way to repay—” Sebastian cut her off with a passionate kiss before she could finish her sentence. They were oblivious to the horseplay around them, locked in an embrace and their own thoughts.

  Alistair and Penny walked down to the fountain holding a stack of folded towels. Alistair stepped up on the short stone wall of the fountain and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen, dinner shall be served in precisely one hour. I expect you will all be presentable at that time and properly dressed for the meal.” Oliver reached for his arm to pull him into the fountain, but Alistair was too quick and jumped down to the ground, throwing a plush white cotton towel in Oliver’s direction.

  “You certainly know how to throw a party,” Alistair complimented, handing the last towel to Sebastian.

  “All in a day’s work, blue blood.” He patted Alistair on the back, trying not to dampen his friend’s dry shirt.

  Sebastian and his friends gathered in the formal dining room at eight o’clock. During the course of the meal, Sebastian enjoyed listening in on bits of conversation between his guests. He joined in when a topic interested him, but mostly sat back and ate the scrumptious meal that the cook had prepared.

  After dinner they retired to the great room, where they smoked Dunhills and drank smooth brandy in large crystal snifters. The relaxing meal energized them. It appeared the night was still young as the clock on the mantel chimed eleven. Oliver pulled a clear plastic bag out of his jacket pocket. A white powder was nestled in the bottom corner of the bag. “Any takers?” he asked, waving the bag of cocaine in the air. Immediately several people gathered around him. “Do you have something to cut it on, Sebastian?”

  “Use the decanter tray,” he replied, extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray.

  Claire—after removing the decanter—placed the large rectangular tray, with its reflective bottom, in front of Colin. He cleaned it off with his sleeve and gently poured the drug on the tray. It flowed out of the bag into a neat pile. He took to task and cut and lined it for his friends and himself. “Sebastian, as you’re the birthday boy—you first.” Sebastian, already standing next to Colin by this point, knelt on the floor in front of the tray. He took the proffered twenty pound note, neatly rolled it into a straw shape, and snorted the first line. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and smiled. Then he turned and passed the note on to Astrid, who was eagerly awaiting her turn. Sebastian sat back onto the couch, waiting to let the drug’s effect to overwhelm him.

  Soon his temperature rose and his heart began to race as he entered the euphoric stage. He watched them take turns snorting the coke and felt oddly detached from the whole scene. It wouldn’t be long before the full effect of the drug kicked in and he would feel energized, as if he could do anything.

  The next morning Sebastian awakened to find himself naked in his own bed with Astrid and Jemma. His brain was slow to recall the details of his sexual escapade the night before, but from the looks of his crumpled bed linens and strewn pillows, it must have been intense. Sebastian didn’t like the effects of coming down from the cocaine—the fatigue, headaches, the gaps in time. He really needed to learn to say no when it was offered.

  Careful not to wake the girls, Sebastian quietly got out of bed and padded to the en suite bathroom. He relieved himself with a sigh, hoping to stay accurate with his aim, given his physical and mental condition. He then made his way to the sink to wash his hands. Sebastian forced himself to look at the mirror and the image was appalling: his sapphire blue eyes were bloodshot and his brown hair was standing on end. Sebastian didn’t feel any better than he looked. He reached in the medicine cabinet for aspirin, turned on the brass cold water tap, and filled a glass with water.

  Sebastian stepped in the shower, the hot stream of water beading down his bare skin. It felt invigorating. When he closed his eyes he could imagine he was in a far-off land, maybe under a waterfall in Hawaii or on a cruise down the Amazon River. Daydreaming was a waste of time. He was stuck in England, living this crazy lifestyle, because it was easier to go along with his friends than say no to them.

  Today, Sebastian would act as ringmaster to the circus they lived, and entertain his friends again. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like if life had handed him something different. What would it be like to have two parents who worked nine-to-five mundane jobs? What would it be like to have a family meal every night because they could not afford to eat out—and more so, they enjoyed each other’s company? Would he be happier with two parents who loved each other raising him? Sebastian led a privileged life and had the good fortune to be raised by the most wonderful woman in the world: his nanny. Things could certainly be worse.

  “Stop thinking so much, Irons,” he muttered to himself. “You have guests to tend to. The circus awaits.”

  They spent a leisurely day frolicking in the pool, playing tennis, and lounging about reading and drinking cocktails. At one point, Sebastian became so engrossed reading Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited that he didn’t realize he was alone. Just as well; he enjoyed silence from time to time.

  Penelope popped her head in the room, calling Sebastian’s name to get his attention. She was dressed in a perfectly pressed short sleeved white blouse and navy pencil skirt, looking as if she had walked out of one of her fashion magazines. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail, every hair in its place. “Sebastian, I need your help,” she requested as he looked up from his novel.

  “Where’s Alistair?” he questioned, almost annoyed at the interruption.

  “I don’t know, and besides, it’s you I need,” she replied, taking his arm and pulling him away from the sofa.

  “I’m at a really good part in this book!” he protested to no avail as she dragged him out of the room.

  She led him down the long, red carpeted hall toward the dining room. Its large double doors were shut. “Pen, what you are doing?” he asked.

  She leaned in to give him a quick, friendly kiss on the lips before she swung open the doors to loud, boisterous shouts of “Surprise
!”

  Everyone stood surrounding the antique sideboard, which held a birthday cake ablaze with eighteen candles. There were blue and white balloons and streamers decorating the room. The girls wore paper party hats. The boys blew into plastic noisemaker horns and threw handfuls of confetti at Sebastian. He was taken aback. Penny eased her arm through his and escorted him to his birthday cake. “Make a wish,” she whispered.

  He took a moment and stared at the candles flickering above the buttercream icing. With one deep breath, he leaned over the cake and blew out the candles. Everyone clapped as they broke into a chorus of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow.

  “Time for presents,” Alistair announced, handing Sebastian a very large white box with a black satin ribbon. “This is from me,” he said, pushing Sebastian onto the sofa and taking the seat next to him. Sebastian untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside he found a beautiful black wool Paul Smith suit complete with a white shirt, perfectly coordinated tie, and gleaming lace-up shoes.

  Sebastian admired the tailoring as he gently touched the soft lightweight fabric. “This is amazing, Alistair. Thank you.”

  His friend smiled, patting him on the back.

  “Me, next!” Penny exclaimed, handing him a small box wrapped in silver paper. He opened the box to find a book of poetry by Keats. “It’s a first edition. I know he’s your favorite,” she chimed in.

  Sebastian was overcome by her thoughtfulness. He stood up and gave her a hug. “It’s brilliant. Thank you.”

  Oliver and Colin were next and handed Sebastian a black velvet bag. Sebastian chuckled. “I wonder what this could be?”

  “Oh, go on then,” Colin prodded, with a devious smile crossing his lips. Sebastian pulled the drawstring to reveal a rather large amount of cannabis. The aroma swirled out of the bag and teased his senses. He closed his eyes for a second, drew in a breath of it, and smiled.

  “The best money can buy, mate,” Oliver informed him.

  Sebastian secured the drawstring on the bag and stuffed it in his pants pocket. He crossed the room and opened the doors of an armoire to reveal the stereo system.

  “Any requests?” Sebastian inquired as he browsed the cardboard sleeves lining the shelf.

  “Bananarama!” Jemma shouted.

  “David Bowie,” Alistair chimed in.

  Penny sighed. “Play whatever you like, Sebastian. But if you put on another Smiths record, I swear I’ll slit my wrists.”

  He turned to Penny, holding up a copy of their new album, Meat is Murder. “Morrissey is a god,” he explained.

  “So is Eric Clapton, and you never play any of his records,” she announced, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

  “I don’t have any Clapton records. Maybe you should choose what I play next,” Sebastian suggested, enjoying their banter.

  Alistair came up behind Penny and placed his arms around her waist. “No flirting with my best mate,” he playfully warned.

  Penny turned around and kissed Alistair full on the lips. “Your jealousy is adorable,” she remarked, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger.

  The girls started dancing as the sound of Duran Duran’s Girls on Film filled the room. Sebastian popped open another bottle of champagne. It was a wonderful surprise birthday party. He looked at his friends, laughing, dancing, and having a good time. Everything was perfect.

  Suddenly, he heard Colin gasp for air. When Sebastian turned to face him, Colin had dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. The crystal champagne flute shattered on the hardwood floor as it slipped from his grasp. Claire and Jade began to laugh, thinking it was part of the fun. They quickly realized that Colin was not playing a joke and something was terribly wrong. Claire screamed.

  “Penny, get the girls out of here now!” Alistair ordered. “Sebastian, phone for an ambulance!”

  Alistair dropped to his knees next to Colin and grasped his wrist to check for a pulse.

  Oliver knelt down next to his brother. “Come on, Colin. This isn’t funny.” He put his hand over Colin’s mouth to feel for his breath. “He’s not breathing,” he said in a panic. Oliver began shaking his brother by the shoulders.

  “Oliver, stand back! You’re not helping the situation,” Alistair yelled as he loosened Colin’s tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

  Sebastian joined Alistair on the floor and together they began to administer CPR. Breathe in, pump chest, count one, two, three, four. Alistair and Sebastian continued their rhythmic undertaking.

  “You have to save my brother!” Oliver cried, pacing back and forth.

  “What is he on, Oliver?” Alistair demanded.

  “He was doing coke earlier. Maybe some pills.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know—a lot!” he responded in a frantic tone.

  Penny ran back into the room and knelt next to Colin. “What can I do to help?”

  Alistair continued to work on Colin. Without looking up, he said, “Penny, get my wallet. Locate John Covington’s card. It should be in the front. Call him now. I want an attorney here. And turn off that music.”

  Penny accomplished her tasks and then touched Sebastian’s shoulder to get his attention. “Let me take over. You should wait outside for the ambulance.”

  He looked up at her, nodded, then left the room. The fifteen minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive seemed like an eternity to Sebastian. Finally, medics pulled up to the house and Sebastian escorted them to Colin.

  They ran into the room, laden with bags and monitors. The lads moved out of their way and the medics took over the resuscitation attempts. They radioed the hospital as they administered oxygen from a tank, and they pushed needles under Colin’s skin and set up an IV line. They placed his limp body on the gurney and rushed out of the room to transport him to the hospital, but he still didn’t have a heartbeat.

  Sebastian was standing in the doorway, his back against the doorframe, trying to will Colin back to life. The others were scattered around the room with looks of horror and disbelief. One of the emergency medical crew approached Sebastian. “We’ll need to call the authorities,” he said. Sebastian nodded. “We’re doing everything we can,” they reassured.

  The room was silent. They couldn’t look at one another. Sebastian knew Colin was dead. He didn’t want it to be true, but his gut feeling was telling him differently. He glanced at the confetti and streamers, half eaten birthday cake, and discarded champagne flutes. How could such a perfect day go so wrong?

  Chapter 3 - Blue Monday

  After meeting with the lawyer and police, the group disbanded and headed back to Eton Sunday evening. When Sebastian arrived back at his flat well after midnight, he couldn’t sleep, so he sat in the darkened lounge with yesterday’s events on a continuous loop in his brain.

  The phone rang. He picked up the receiver. “Hello,” he managed in a groggy voice.

  “Mr. Irons, this is Alice Merriwether from the headmaster’s office. He would like to see you in his office at eight o’clock this morning.”

  It was already seven o’clock. A hot shower was definitely in order. The past twenty-four hours had not been kind to him. Somehow, he found the strength to pull himself together. He was knocking on the heavy wooden door to the headmaster’s office precisely one hour later.

  “Enter,” the commanding voice ordered from inside the room.

  Sebastian took a deep breath and slowly turned the doorknob. He was not looking forward to this.

  “Mr. Irons, take a seat.”

  Sebastian did as he was told and sat quietly until spoken to.

  “You are aware that you missed your English final on Friday?”

  “Yes, Headmaster,” he replied, avoiding the man’s stare.

  “What is your excuse?”

  “I was out late the night before and overslept.”

  “Yes, that was Prince Alistair’s excuse as well,” the headmaster responded, making notes in the file in front of him. “May I remind you of your chemistry final a
t nine o’clock this morning?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Make it a point to be there and to be prepared to pass the exam.” The headmaster closed his file, then stood up. He loomed over Sebastian, which only added to Sebastian’s insecurity and unease.

  “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

  “And as a favor to Lady Irons, I have rescheduled your English exam this afternoon for both you and the Prince. You are a very lucky man, Mr. Irons, but your luck will eventually run out. Your marks this term have been deplorable.” He paused for effect. “If you do not improve your final scores, you can be assured your chances of attending Oxford will be slim to none.”

  Wonderful, he thought. Now his mother was involved. Could this day get any worse? Sebastian stood up and extended his hand to the headmaster. “Thank you for the opportunity, Headmaster.”

  “Do not disappoint me again, Mr. Irons. You are dismissed.”

  Sebastian gave a slight bow of his head and quickly left the room. He moped through the quad toward his chemistry final, which he would undoubtedly fail. Sebastian certainly was not looking forward to the lecture from his mother. He wondered what she would be the most upset about: Colin dying in the house or Sebastian getting expelled from Eton. Either way, the meeting with his mother would be far worse than what had just transpired in the headmaster’s office. The only bright spot was the news about Oxford. If it was true, he would not have to attend Oxford. He secretly smiled at the thought of breaking his mother’s heart. It had always been her plan to send him there; Sebastian was never offered a choice.

  He had a thought to dash it all. Colin was dead. Obviously, news of the event had not reached the headmaster. How the hell was he supposed to sit for an exam after he watched Colin die yesterday? Sebastian was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he walked straight into Alistair.