Chapter 10: Background check

This is the part of the story where I talk about my life, I take it?

The thing about me is that I don’t have a very interesting past. My parents were businessmen and women. It’s just a rumor, but I like to believe I was dropped on the head at birth. It would give me a legitimate explanation for my unequaled stupidity.

Yes, I know I’m stupid. I know my defence consists of flailing my arms around hoping to hit something. In fact, I’m so stupid I’m digressing, telling you about how stupid I am and not about my clichéd sob story.

My parents never had any time for me. We lived in a big house, had a butler and maid and everything. I didn’t have to do anything for myself. If I wanted to have fun, the maid would bend down and let me kick her into the dishwasher. If I wanted to fight, the butler would be my sparring partner. Of course, these bouts usually lasted one second and ended up with me in bed, ice pack on my head.

What I didn’t know was that my dad dealt with the Mafiya. He raked in millions of dollars. But dealing with the Mafiya is very risky and when I came home from Eton (Yes, I studied in Eton. Money can get you everywhere brains can’t) I found him dead, mutilated.

A police investigation was held. They found that the butler did it. Actually, he didn’t, but I just always wanted to say that. So, anyway, my mom broke down. Broke down literally. She died. She just died and I was left to cope for myself.

The first thing I did was finish my schooling. I think they let me graduate because they pitied me. My grades were that bad. I would have fit in better in a mental hospital, my classmates said. Or maybe back at preschool.

And then…I lost the family fortune in a huge, multi-billion dollar scam which a couple of other rich arses got into as well. One day the money was in my bank account, the next day the vault was as empty as Vault 713 in Gringotts the day after Harry Potter’s birthday. For those who don’t read Potter, it was as empty as a beggar’s pocket. For those who don’t understand similes, the vault was empty.

And that’s how I ended up in a tiny apartment that shakes like my dad when he’d had a pint too much, my only entertainment pressing the doorbell or watching termites scream through the air when a knife wielding stranger gets the wrong house and knocks down my door.