Lindsay was expecting a lot of things from the boy whose money he was going to take care of now.
He knew the Valentines had won a few lottery millions some years back, and now the wife had managed to crash their car into some trees, killing herself and her husband.
Their only child, Philip George Valentine, was a nineteen years old boy, currently attending UAL, and according to his father's will, would be completely incapable of taking care of anything at least until he was twenty five.
So there was Lindsay, or rather Mr. Brown, staring at the big fancy house, waiting for Philip Valentine Junior, or someone at his services, to open the door. No doubt the boy was a fucking new money snob brat, full of himself and too selfish to take care of business. Just the usual type, really, as far as Lindsay was concerned.
That's why he was a bit startled to the sight of a tiny tranny kid, long dirty-blond hair dyed bright blue in the ends, and horrible glitterish clothes, staring at him with big green eyes on the doorway, hands with nails half covered on red nail polish holding the door open.
Trying to take a hold of himself, Lindsay finally spoke.
"Good morning, I'm here to see Mr. Valentine."
The kid's eyebrows rose.
"Sorry to tell ya mate, but he's dead."
"No, I mean Mr. Valentine Junior, his son."
That made the boys eyes grow even bigger, taking a step back to allow Lindsay in.
"Ohhhh, sorry, they didn't tell me when you'd be here, all right, come in."
"And you are...", inquired Lindsay, through he already had some kind of idea, but tried not to jump into conclusions. Maybe Valentine Jr. just had a weird taste for friends. Or maybe the weird taste was product of the grief of losing both parents so soon.
"I'm the Valentine" he made a weird gesture, mining quotation marks in the air, "Junior. Friends call me Pip."
"Sure." Was all Lindsay said, abandoning all hope of a normal job. This kid was clearly a mess, and they had six fucking years ahead.
"So... d'you wanna a cup of tea? But don't know if there's any, really, don't know this house a lot, I'm more out then in." Babbled the boy, and looking from up close, the fucking kid was wearing make up. Not that it looked awful or anything, it was quite good actually, bringing out his green eyes, but who the Hell wears make up at home and a few days after losing both parents? "D'you think you'll let me have a bit of money to buy a flat? I wanna a flat, flats are ace."
Pip was completely in love. It's true! When they said a certain Mr. Brown was chosen to be his legal representative, he expected a old man with gel slick hair and a boring voice with posh accent.
Truth is Mr. Brown was certainly not young, mid thirties, if the wrinkles around his eyes were any evidence, and his accent was a bit posh, okay, but with a lovely Yorkshire background. And he was hot. Not just fit, hot, all brown curls and a low assertive voice, slowly explaining all the stuff he was going to take care of.
Pip didn't give a fuck about that, he was more focused into finding out if that blend between Greek god, gentleman spy and Uni professor was, even a little bit, into boys.
He did gave Pip a once over when he came in, but it seemed more out of shock then attraction, and Pip was not to blame if no one told him what time was the lawyer coming, and he was caught in the middle of a little closet safari meets Instagram photo shoot.
The point was, Mr. Lindsay Brown was the hottest man he ever saw, and when he finished the explanations and asked Pip if he understood everything, Pip smiled innocently, or stupidity if you prefer, and said he didn't got a clue, asking Mr. Brown to explain it all again, only so he could hear the man's voice.
Mr. Brown with a irritation frown was even hotter.