After you,” Cobi said, unlocking the huge wood-and-glass door to the mansion.
Eric stood at the threshold, intimidated. This place seemed like somewhere he should’ve never been.
Eric walked into the foyer and waited for Cobi to close the door and walk him the rest of the way into the house. He looked down at the beautiful, waxed hardwood floors beneath him, the old paintings, from the original artists long passed, hung in giant wooden frames on the walls. He saw furniture that looked as though it may have cost more than Eric would make in his lifetime.
“So, what do you think?” Cobi said, resting his briefcase on the floor beside the leather sofa.
“This is your house? Where you live?” Eric said, as though he had a hard time believing what he was seeing.
“I know, a little over the time top, huh. It was rumored to have once been owned by a prince who would visit on occasion from England. But I don’t know if that’s true or not. Want me to take you on a tour of the rest of the place?”
“Yeah, man,” Eric said. “Sure, let’s see the rest of it.”
What Eric saw was a first floor with a restaurant-style kitchen with professional-grade, stainless steel appliances. He saw the indoor swimming pool, the bathrooms done in black granite and marble, the media room that sat thirty people and looked like a real movie theater. He saw the library, the den, and the recreation room that housed a red felt pool table with a surface larger than any bed Eric had ever slept on.
Outside were five acres of gated, sloping, manicured lawn, shrubs, and bushes that looked meticulously tended to. There were even trees towering a hundred feet high on one end of the property.
Cobi walked Eric over to the six-car garage, then hit a button on his keychain that rolled up the door.
“That was my mother’s car,” Cobi said, pointing to a beautifully preserved, vintage silver 1970 Jaguar. “And that one’s mine,” he said, nodding toward the Audi. “But I just keep it parked back here, since I’m driving my father’s now.”
“Your father. The same guy that adopted you but not me? Where is he? I’d like to meet his ass,” Eric said, resentment in his voice.
“He’s dead, as is my mother,” Cobi said, looking unblinkingly at Eric. “Plane crash about a month ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Were they—”
“That’s all you need to know about them. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Cobi led Eric up the long, curving staircase to the second floor.
“My bedroom is the last room at the end of that hall,” Cobi said, pointing down the black-and-white tiled corridor. Cobi walked a few more steps and stopped between a pair of doors, spaced ten feet apart. “One of the bedrooms up here was my parents’, one is my father’s study, one was converted into a sitting parlor for my mother, and the other is a designated guest bedroom, which leaves these two free. You have your choice of either.”
Eric turned to Cobi. “One of these?”
“Yeah, whichever one you choose,” Cobi said. “They’re both around the same size, just decorated differently. Go ahead, step in.”
Eric walked into the first to find an enormous bedroom furnished with a California king-size bed, the blades of a copper ceiling fan rotating lazily above it. There was a dresser and chest of drawers, a forty-two-inch flat-screen TV, and a leather sofa, loveseat, and table in a separate sitting section of the room.
“Okay,” Cobi said. “Let’s check out the other one.”
“I don’t need to,” Eric said. “This one is perfect.”
“Are you sure, because—”
“Dude, I’m coming from a jail cell. The closet is probably bigger than where I lived.”
“Well, when you go to hang up something, you’ll find that you’re probably right.”
“Won’t need to hang nothing up,” Eric said, spreading his arms out. “’Cause all I got is the clothes on my back.”
Cobi looked sadly at his brother but didn’t respond to what Eric said. “Is there anything else, before I leave you alone to get settled in?”
“Yeah. That information I asked you for. You never gave it to me.”
Cobi reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He passed it to Eric.
“Thanks. You got a phone here I can use?”
“On the nightstand, by the bed.”
Eric turned back to Cobi, fishing for words. “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful for what you’re doing or resentful for all this stuff you got.”
Cobi smiled. “I understand. I might feel the same way if things were the other way around.” Cobi walked toward the bedroom door. Before he stepped out, he said, “I hope things work out with your phone call.”
Worry on his face, Eric said, “Me, too.”