Thirty minutes later, Brandon’s Jeep approaches the grand Conway Mansion.

The yellow, three-story mansion is nestled in a gathering of trimmed trees. Laid out in front of it is a massive roundabout with a grand, bubbling fountain in the middle, lined with clean-cut bushes.

Brandon guides his Jeep past the brick pillars that mark the property line of the residence and rolls counterclockwise around the fountain, nearing the house. He then stops his vehicle feet from the lavish, white marble steps that lead up to the black double front doors of the mansion.

He turns off his Jeep, snatches Kalle’s black hoodie from the passenger’s seat, and hops down, landing on smoothly paved concrete. He then rounds the front of his Jeep and treads up the polished steps, strolling under the porch roof.

Brandon halts in front of the glossy front doors, staring at them in deep thought. He then peers to his right, spotting a golden intercom doorbell embedded in the wall. He presses the single button; he holds his breath.

“Who’s there?” a cordial, sophisticated voice with a British accent crackles through the speaker.

Brandon leans toward the speak and says, “It’s me, Brandon Montour.”

There is a pause. Then: “I’ll be right there.” A click is heard.

Brandon lets go of the button and faces the door.

A few moments later, the door to his right opens.

On the other side is a young-appearing man with his short, light brown hair combed back, small, round eyes, and a small smile on his well-shaped face. His attire consists of a butler’s outfit: a buttoned-up, white, collared shirt topped with a black bowtie under a black buttoned penguin tuxedo blazer, black dress pants, black dress shoes, and white gloves. This is Scott Conway, a prospect of the San Diego Gulls and owner of the Conway Mansion.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Montour,” Scott greets, giving him a single bow.

“Uh, hey, Scott.” Brandon gives him a nervous wave matched with an uncertain grin. “Is Kalle here?” He holds up Kalle’s hoodie. “I got his jacket.”

Scott nods his head. “Yes, he is here. Would you like me to lead him here or would like me to lead you to him?”

“May I come in?” Brandon holds his hand toward the house.

“Certainly.” Scott then glides away from the doorway, giving room for Brandon to enter.

Brandon steps into the enormous foyer of the mansion. He gazes at his surroundings: The walls are cream-coloured with a golden accent; opulent pillars are holding up the visible second floor; behind the pillars are arched doorways decorated with golden accents with delicate dressers, chairs, and paintings in between; a rug is laid out in the space above the marble flooring; on the other side is the ever-extending hallway.

Scott closes the door behind Brandon and breezes past him. “This way, Mr. Montour.”

Brandon follows him down the splendid architecture, absorbing all the grandeur the mansion has to offer. He is led to the right through an archway, entering a narrower hallway which still has not lost its expensive beauty. He is then stopped as Scott halts in front of a white door with a golden knob. On the door is a golden sign that says Sauna.

Scott knocks promptly on the door’s surface three times. “Mr. Kossila? Mr. Montour is here to return to you an article of clothing you left behind.”

“Oh, I’ll be right out!” Kalle Kossila’s sweet voice with his Finnish accent is heard exclaiming from the other side.

A few moments later, the door opens. Exiting the door is a man with a friendly mien; he has blond hair with bangs, blue eyes, and some stubble. At the moment, he is wearing a white robe. This is Kalle Kossila, one of the newest members of the Gulls.

Kalle’s eyes light up when he spots Brandon standing next to the butler. “Monty!” He scoops him into a tight hug. “How are you doing” He pulls away from him with a toothy smile.

Brandon scratches the back of his neck. “Ugh, to be honest, not too well…”

His smile drops. “Oh no. Why?”

“Would you like for me to park your car in the garage, Mr. Montour?” Scott asks the visitor.

Brandon turns to him. “Yes, please.”

With a nod of his head, Scott turns around and exits the hallway.

Once the butler is out of sight, Kalle turns back to his teammate. “What's going on?”

Brandon lets out a heavy sigh. “We're having a major fallout at the house,” he starts anxiously. “Nicky and Joey are not getting along and I just need to get away. I've tried so many times to get them back together, but it seems like nothing is working. I just need to get away and recoup my sanity before I go back.”

“That's fine! You're welcome here anytime!” Kalle’s toothy grin reappears.

“Thank you.” Brandon gives him a nervous smile.

Kalle begins stepping away from the sauna, making his way toward the exit of the hallway. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Brandon follows him, keeping up by his side. “I have no idea, to be honest. Just anything that would get my mind off of the two.”

He peers at him. “How about playing roller hockey?”

Brandon’s eyes light up. “Sure!”

---

Part of the Conway Mansion is a sumptuous ballroom. The rectangular room has mild yellow-coloured walls lined with chandelier-styled wall lights and mirrors with the style of a window facing the grand entrance of the room. Above is a beautifully decorated ceiling with delicate paintings and a palatial chandelier suspended from it.

Yet this time, the ballroom is not being used for dancing: it is being used for roller hockey. Situated on each end of the room is a plastic goal net with a goalie tarp. Zipping between the two nets are Brandon, who is has his hoodie removed, revealing his gray T-shirt, and Kalle, who is now wearing his returned hoodie with jeans, each geared with rollerblades and a street hockey stick.

Brandon slapshots the blue roller hockey puck toward the net. The puck goes wide, smashing the mirror behind it into splinters of distorted images.

Kalle quickly reclaims the puck and shoots it back at his net. The puck flies dangerously close to the wall, taking out two wall lights in its flight until crashing onto the ground along with the glass pieces of the lights’ remains.

Brandon streaks across the room, collecting the puck into his possession. He makes a sharp U-turn on the rubber wheels of his rollerblades and begins rushing down the room, toward the net. Kalle jumps into the action, chasing after him.

“You can't catch me!” Brandon taunts at him.

“Yes, I can!” Kalle sing-songs in the same tune. He then sticks his stick from Brandon’s right, swiping the puck into his possession.

“Hey!” Brandon exclaims as he spots his empty blade. He makes another sharp U-turn, spotting the one who stole the puck, and charges after him.

Kalle cradles the puck as the nears the net, locking his eyes on the bottom right opening of the net. He then launches the puck toward the space.

Yet before the puck could slide behind the tarp, Brandon zooms forward and jabs his stick out, regaining the puck.

“Haha!” He then skates around Kalle and speeds down the room.

With a huff, Kalle chases after him, passing by Scott.

Scott is kneeling on the ground, sweeping up the broken pieces of the wall lights from a dustpan and hand broom. “Men,” he calls out to the two roller hockey players, “please be careful, I just replaced the broken chandelier with another--”

His voice is cut off as the sound of a crashing chandelier is heard echoing through the room: CRASH!!!

“--chandelier,” he finishes off weakly.

“Goaaaallll!” Brandon exclaims by the net, holding his hands and his stick into the air.

Kalle approaches him with a toothy smile. “Nice shot!”

Brandon beams at him. “Thanks!”

Kalle sticks the blade of his stick into the space in the bottom corner of the net and rakes out the puck. “Now it's my time to score!” He then begins skating down the room.

“Not so fast!” Brandon dashes after him, gliding around the fragmented chandelier. He spots Kalle dangerously close to the net, ready to launch the puck into the top shelf.

Out of desperation, he lunges into the air and grabs Kalle with both of his hands and tackles him to the ground with himself.

THUMP!

They both roll on the smooth floor and land on their backs. They laugh at the hard fall they both took.

“Oh man,” Brandon huffs out with a smile, “I'm hungry.”

“Yeah, same here!” Kalle pulls himself to a sitting position. “Wanna eat?”

Brandon peers up at him. “Definitely!”

---

The dining room of the Conway Mansion is a massive upgrade from the Monarossabergie House’s dining room. This room has the same style and tone as the other rooms: cream-coloured walls, white marble flooring, pillars lining the border of the room.

On the other side of the line of pillars is a massive window overlooking the lake by the mansion. Next to the window are silver dual swinging doors that lead to the kitchen; across is a lavish shelf with delicate antiques.

In the middle of the room is a golden-coloured dining table with carved accents and a glass top, decorated with candles and utensils for a five-course meal. Cushion-equipped chairs line the table, matching its style. Above the table is yet another glimmering chandelier.

Sitting next to each other at the dining table are Brandon and Kalle. They are munching on their lunch which consists of the options of green bean salad, clam chowder, crusty bread, lobster, grilled asparagus, risotto, steamed clams, bread pudding, and the beverage of root beer.

As the two teammates are eating, Scott approaches them with a white towel draped over one of his arms; a golden tray is taking up the use of his other arm.

“Is everything fine here?” he asks the two, standing next to Kalle.

Brandon nods his head vehemently as he chews. “Mm-hm!”

Kalle peers up at him with a toothy smile. “Yes, everything is fine, Scott. Thank you!”

Scott nods once. “Call me if you gentlemen need anything else.” He then promptly turns around and marches through the dual swinging doors.

Brandon turns to his teammate. “So you have this every day?” He dips a piece of lobster into a small bowl of melted butter.

“Not the same dish every day,” Kalle explains. “Like yesterday for lunch, I had lamb.” He takes a forkful of risotto, chews, then swallows. “And the day before yesterday, I had steak.”

Brandon gawks at him with awe. “Oh man, you're so lucky!” He turns back to his plate. “For lunch, we land on sandwiches.” He pops a bite of his buttered lobster in his mouth.

“I do have sandwiches sometimes with pastrami,” he points out.

“But seriously, this food is good.” Brandon lifts his cloth napkin from his lap and cleans his mouth with it. “If only I had a personal chef and could have this every day!”

“Well, you're more than welcome to come by anytime!” he tells him amiably as he pulls the meat from a steamed clam. “I have many rooms here for friends” He takes the meat into his mouth.

Brandon lowers his cloth napkin back onto his lap. “Actually…” He turns to him. “...can I stay here overnight?”

A smile comes across Kalle’s face. “Sure!” He then whirls to the dual swinging doors to his left. “Scott!”

Scott instantly appears from the doors and approaches the Finn. “Yes, Mr. Kossila?”

“Can you prepare the guest room next to my room?” He holds his hand out toward Brandon. “Brandon’s going to say here overnight.”

“Right away.” With a nod of his head, Scott strides across the dining room, between the pillars, and down the hallway.

Brandon turns to him with gratefulness. “Thanks, Kalle. I really do need this.”

“Yeah, anytime!” Kalle then holds up his root beer and exclaims in his native language: “Kippis!”

Brandon takes his root beer and holds it up as well. “Key-peas!” he shouts in an attempt to speak Finnish.

The two teammates clink their mugs and take a sip.

“Anything you have in mind to do next?” Kalle asks as he places his mug down.

A smile grows on Brandon’s face. “Yeah...!”

After their lunch, the two teammates did many activities: they played tennis in the mansion’s private tennis court, played in the pool in the mansion’s indoor and outdoor pool, bowled in the mansion’s very own bowling alley, kayaked in the mansion’s lake, ate dinner, watched a movie in the mansion’s own theatre, then called it a day.

---

In his own luxurious bedroom in the dark, Brandon is lying on the king-sized plush bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He sighs happily. “What a day.”

He then rolls over to his left, catching sight of the home phone that is situated on the night table. He reaches over to it and presses a button on it.

“So I can ask for anything even at three o’clock in the morning?” Brandon asks the phone.

“Yeah!” Kalle’s sweet voice is heard crackling through the speakers.

“Sweet! Not like I would anyway.” He lets out a nervous chortle. “Good night, Kalle!”

“Hyvä yötä, Monty!” Kalle tells him in Finnish.

Brandon then lets go of the button and rolls back on his back. He closes his eyes and let himself drift off through the peacefulness of the environment and into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Notes

E.19 "Calculating The Aftermath"
Part 4/10
Episode 19/20