Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

TIMOTHY

I straighten my bow tie in the mirror as I give myself one final look over before my interview.

The baby blue fabric with tiny ostriches on it makes me smile. It was one of Grandpa's favorites. The man had a collection that deserved to be in a Guinness World Record book. I inherited it all when he passed away a month after my eighteenth birthday.

Since then, I have worn each and every one. It's rare to catch me without my beloved bow ties.

Despite people looking at me funny or wondering if I'm playing a part, I find solace in the fact that a piece of the one person in this world who loved me unconditionally gets to go everywhere with me.

“Okay, you can do this,” I tell myself.

The pep talk is much needed, given I’m going without some of my favorite comfort items to ace this interview. I have to get a feel for the place before I decide if I can get away with my stealth Little mode.

While wearing one of my diapers would give me the reassurance I so desperately need today, I’ll have to settle for the miniature binky keychain in my pocket. It’s my go-to when I need something but don’t have the means for the full experience.

I grab my satchel from the couch on my way out of the tiny studio apartment I have in downtown. To be honest, the space is much more like a closet than it is an actual apartment, but it was all I could afford.

Working odd jobs to keep a roof over my head after Grandpa died was the only way to make a living. I wasn’t skilled for much more.

Though it's really not living if I were to go by how my life has been for the last several years.

Grandpa had an old house, one that was so well worn, you could feel the love when you walked in the door.

But houses had maintenance.

They had yearly fees and upkeep involved.

When Grandpa's health declined, I had to step up to take care of things. Sadly, I couldn't handle it like he did. I was too worried about him, too concerned about what would happen once he was gone. I spent my time trying to make the most out of the days we had left, which meant bills went unpaid and fines added up.

After he died and I finally came up for air, I realized the error of my ways. I lost the house and Grandpa all within a few weeks of each other.

I take the bus down to the Bellport Foundation building. It's not too far from where I am, but with the rainy day, I don't want to show up looking like a drowned rat. I doubt it would impress anyone.

The job posting online didn't give me much to work off of. It simply said an assistant is needed for someone within the company.

Considering who owns the foundation, I suspect it's one of the Bellports.

I mentally run through my checklist of what I know about each one. There are the Bellport parents who are the elite of society within our town. Makes sense given the town carries their last name. They do a lot of charity work and also have their own profitable businesses they run.

Next up you have Bellamy Bellport, who is the shining star of the football world. He is an unstoppable force and though I don't really care for football as a sport, I can't deny the man is gifted.

After him comes Carmen, though I actually think Carmen is older. It’s hard to remember. She's a doctor, and I believe engaged or in a long-term relationship. The society pages talk about it, but I usually skip those to go straight to the cartoons.

Next up is Royce. They are an enigma. I don't know much besides their pronouns and their wicked fashion sense. I wish I were brave enough to wear a skirt out in public. For now, my bow ties will have to do. Maybe I'll become adventurous in my next life.

The only other Bellport after that is Jake Bellport. He's supposedly a bit of a jokester and the baby of the family. I can't imagine he'll need the assistant, so I push him aside on my list of things to know.

At the office, a friendly receptionist gives me a visitor badge, then tells me to have a seat. I'm left alone for a few minutes before a bored-looking Royce Bellport comes out of a door down the hall. They approach me with slow steps, their heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. Wearing a long olive-green dress that ties at the waist and a leather vest over the top, they look phenomenal. Adding to the dramatic effect, their hair hangs over one shoulder in long waves.

“You're here for the interview,” they ask.

I nod, unsure what to say. I still really don't know what the job is for, but that feels like the wrong move to make. Especially when I might end up working for Royce.

I want to appear confident.

To be an adult.

To take care of things.

I can't let it go back to the way it was before when the bills piled up, and I ignored everything.

Grief took me into a downward spiral, and I refused to let it continue having a hold on me.

Royce tilts their head towards the door they just came through. "Come with me.”

I stand, my fingers tight around the strap of my bag, following close behind, though not too close as to seem overeager. Inside the room is a single chair set up with a spotlight.

When I turn to Royce, they roll their eyes. "Just have a seat there. He'll be in in a minute."

As I walk towards the chair, I hear them grumbling behind me.

“Fucking brothers and their games. I better get my ice cream after this.”

The door closes behind them, leaving me in this room that's far too dark and far too large. It feels like I'm a villain in a movie about to be questioned. I nearly snort at the vision it creates in my mind.

A villain? Not me.

If anything, I'm like the sappy business owner who gets taken advantage of by someone's sob story. Not even a subplot in the movie.

Unfortunately, it's happened more than once. People share things with me or ask for favors, only for me to realize later that I've been played. I try not to be that guy, but it's hard.

How do you say no to someone when they're sad?

My bag hangs across my body while I wait for whoever is supposed to show. The weight of it tugging at my shoulder is keeping me conscious of where I am and what's going on, so I don’t lose myself to a different headspace.

I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, my hand reaching for my support binky hidden in my pocket. Right as I'm about to call out for someone, the door flings open.

A man wearing a full spandex superhero costume storms inside. “Tell me where you were the night of June 21, 2001.”

I blink up at him. The black mask tied over his eyes is probably meant to hide his identity; however, after all the research I've done on this family, it's easy to know who I'm looking at.

It's Jake Bellport.

“Answer the question,” he demands in a fake accent.

I shake my head slowly as I try to remember where I was on that specific day, but I'm drawing a blank. I can barely remember what year it is right now.

“I’m not sure, sir." I tell him, then tilt my head. "Is there a reason that you're dressed in a superhero costume? Royce didn't mention anything about this when they brought me in here.”

When I mention Royce, Jake's face completely changes. He squats down so that I'm taller than him. With his hands on his knees, he looks me over.

“You used the correct pronouns,” he tells me.

I blink at him. “Well, yes, I did because those are their pronouns. Why would I use anything else?”

A slow smile blooms across Jake's face. "You're hired.”

Gaping at him, confusion fills every inch of me. "I'm hired?”

He nods quickly, then stands up and dusts off his outfit. “Pretty cool getup, though, right? I'm glad I got to use it.”

He strikes several different poses that look like something off the front of a comic book cover. I snort the more ridiculous he becomes. He definitely is living up to the jokester persona I'd read about.

“Can I ask what the job actually is? The description wasn't much to go by,” I question.

He pauses his performance to peer down at me. “Technically, the job is to be my assistant, but there was this show I watched a while back where this fun character had a woman at his side who was always ready to help him. He’d tell her “do the thing!” and she’d simply know what to do. I want that for myself. So really, your job is to read my mind and make the impossible happen.”

My jaw drops. How am I supposed to read his mind? We come from two different worlds. I bet I’ve never heard of or seen the things he has.

Jake slaps his knee as he lets out a gut busting laugh. “I wish you could see your face. Oh, that was a good one. To be more serious, even though it’s literally my least favorite thing to do, you'll help me with work and home stuff. I won't have you around 24/7, of course, because that would blow. You have to have a life, right?”

When I don't respond, he drops his arms and looks at me.

“You have a life, right?”

I bite my lip to stop the tears before answering. Of course I don’t.

Between not being able to drive myself, and my preferred methods of ‘hanging out’ being time spent as Little me, it’s hard to find compatible people.

“No, sir, not really. I only had my grandpa, and he passed away a while back. Since then, I've been on my own. I don't make friends easily.”

I know the look he gives me is one of pity, but I don't truly care. Some people would be upset about it, but I find it nice to have someone who can empathize with me. It's usually the other way around.

Jake takes another minute to be calm down before he tells me, "You know what? I've got a great idea. You will be my full-time assistant, and we will also be friends."

“Friends?”

He reaches out for my hand. Trusting him for some ridiculous reason, I accept, and then follow him as he leads me out the door and through the building.

After I nearly trip over the long cape for the second time, I grab up the fabric and wrap it around my hand. It's not tight enough to stop his motion, but he does look back when he feels the tug.

“See? You're already doing a great job,” he tells me. “Cape-carrying, super-assistant.”

I fight the laugh that wants to come. It can't be this easy. I couldn't have stumbled into a job that's funny and pays well and has benefits. I don't think the universe is going to be that kind to me. Not after taking Grandpa away and leaving me homeless.

Plus, Jake is giving me vibes like he wouldn’t mind some of my quirkier traits. That’s what one of my old bosses called it. He was nicer than some of the others after they found out.

We push into an office area that looks more like a newsroom from the 1970s. Everything is stacked haphazardly with multiple coffee cups along the space and murder board-style paperwork tacked to the walls.

Jake lets go of my hand to wave his arms around. “Ta-da! This is our cave. I would say it's a superhero cave; however, since this was all a joke, I don't want you to think that there are actual perks like being able to fly or being invisible.”

I nod as I spin in a circle to take in the enormity of the space. "It's a bit of a mess in here," I say out loud, then slap my hand over my lips.

He grimaces. For the first time, his happy persona dips.

“I know. I've tried to clean it up, but something always happens to distract me. It's the main reason my mom said I needed an assistant. Even the cleaners don't want to help me. I need someone that can be my brain outside of my brain. You know?”

I do know, actually, because I had to kind of be the same for grandpa, though I don't say that. No need to depress me even further with my sad thoughts.

“I think I can help with that. I’m pretty meticulously organized.”

“That's a big word,” Jake says, “but I do know what organized means, so I'm going to say that's probably a good thing, right?”

“It is a good thing. I can get all this straightened up for you if you like. Is that my first task?”

Jake immediately shakes his head. “Oh no, no. We have to get your paperwork done and figure out what kind of money you want and then I have to give you a tour because Mom said that's what I had to do, so I'm going to be a boss now and do it. By the way, I really love the idea of themed days of the week. If you could like think of some stuff we could do together, bestie, we should totally do that.”

I shake my head and the laugh I’d been holding in leaves my chest. It's loud. Much louder than I intended it to be.

“You can't call me bestie if I work for you.”

Jake frowns. “Then what do we call each other?”

I put on my most professional smile. “Well, I will call you Mr. Bellport, and you will call me Timothy. That seems appropriate.”

He blows a raspberry as he points a thumb towards the ground. “I don't like professional. It's not my forte. See, I know big words too.”

“I had no doubt that you did.”

“Can you call me something else when we're not in business mode though? Like when it's just us here in the office. Can we be besties then?”

I clasp my hands together in front of me to hide my shaking hands. There’s something about how eager he is to claim me as a friend that has me off balance. I’ve never handled change all that well.

“We can try it on a trial basis. How about that?”

Jake whoops, then bounces on his toes. “I’m gonna win you over, bestie,” he says in a mocking tone.

I know he's not doing it to be mean, only to prove a point that we are alone in the office.

“Enough with the bestie stuff. Let’s get started. I'm excited for this opportunity.”

He waves a hand at me. “Nothing to it. You're really saving me here. I hope you know that your role is just as important as mine.”

I doubt that. He's a Bellport. They're pretty much royalty in this town.

I'm just Timothy, an orphaned kid who needs work to pay his bills. At the end of the day, I'm forgettable.

We're nothing alike.