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“I… I’m sorry,” the woman whispered under her breath, eyes focused on the plate in front of her.
In her lap, her fingers played with one another nervously. She stopped when she caught sight of Oldridge watching her with disapproval on his face.
The man hosting this elegant dinner let out a hopeless sigh, then stood up and walked over to a small table that sat against the wall and retrieved a carafe full of wine. He walked over and poured his young friend a glass before looking up at the rest of his guests.
“Would anyone else like some more wine?”
A young man and young woman both raised their hands slightly, being sure not to look their host in the eye.
Oldridge walked around the dining table, pouring wine for those who requested it. They were his friends, after all, and they deserved as much wine as they wished. They weren’t going anywhere and didn’t have to worry about driving.
Once he was done, he placed the carafe down next to him and resumed eating his dinner at the head of the table.
He really outdid himself this time. This duck was the most succulent and tender piece of meat he had ever whipped up. After all, they were celebrating.
Not enjoying the tension in the room, Oldridge looked up at his guests and smiled.
“So, does anyone have any thoughts as to where we should go for Christmas vacation this year? Last year we went skiing in Switzerland. Did we want to do something different this year?” Oldridge looked around the table at his guests, hopeful and excited to hear their suggestions.
The room remained silent, with no one knowing what to say.
"Well, I was thinking that perhaps we could take my yacht out for a two-week cruise around the Caribbean. Perhaps stop in Brazil and Puerto Vallarta for a few days?” Christian, one of the newer members of their group, suggested.
Oldridge watched as Christian’s uncertain eyes traveled around the room, no doubt wondering if what he said was appropriate—if it was in line with the character he had been given.
Christian was new. He was still adjusting to the rules of their little club. While it annoyed Oldridge to no end, he would allow this minor break of character… this one time. Next time, he would suffer the consequences.
“Christian! That’s a wonderful idea!” Oldridge cheered, raising his glass and taking a sip. “Two weeks of sun and alcohol sounds like just the ticket!”
Everyone around the table nodded. It was always best to agree with whatever the man at the head of the table said.
The guests continued to eat in silence. They all knew that the cruise would never happen. None of it would ever happen. It was all just a fantasy, a game that Oldridge liked to play—toy with their emotions. Remind them of the world that went on around them while they were trapped here… with him. Indulging in his fantasies. Playing in that dream-like realm where anything was possible. You could be anyone that you wanted to be… so long as Oldridge okayed it, of course. There were certain rules that everyone had to follow, and Oldridge regularly enforced those rules.
“So, did anyone see what Anthony was wearing at the wine tasting the other night? Whoever told him that he could pull off a fedora was not his friend,” Oldridge commented before breaking into a fit of laughter.
His laugh was so genuine. So appreciative of the moment.
The room sat silent.
There was no Anthony.
There was no wine tasting.
Both were figments of Oldridge’s imagination. A tale told to pass the time and keep the illusion of friendship and companionship alive.
Oldridge slammed his fist down on the table, causing his plate to shake and his glass of wine to teeter.
“Why is no one laughing?” he shouted, eyes blazing.
Startled, the guests began to laugh, forcing themselves to please the man who now controlled their lives. His fantasies were now their realities. Events lived in a smoke-like state—they were not there, but if you imagined them hard enough, they almost seemed to come alive and take shape. And Peabody loved that—the control, the fantasy. Being able to force these people… his so-called friends, to live lives with him—even if not real.
“That’s better— Oh! Before I forget, I wanted to introduce Nancy to our little club. She has been with us for almost two weeks now, and I thought she was finally ready to join us for our friends’ dinner. Try and make her feel at home,” their host announced, extending his hand toward the terrified-looking woman seated at the far end of the table. One of her hands was handcuffed to her chair, while the other was free to use during dinner.
Nancy had been a little resistant to her new situation, so this was Oldridge’s way of showing her that he now controlled her life. He decided when she was free to use all of her limbs. He decided when she was worthy enough to sit close to him. He decided when she was ready to join their little group for dinner.
“Welcome, Nancy,” an older gentleman by the name of Simone greeted, giving her a quick glance upward and a head nod.
His eyes had dark rims under them, and his skin was pale from lack of sunlight. It had been just over two years since Simone had last been outside.
