Chapter Text
This guy is insufferable.
Helga continued to mindlessly poke the same mangled ravioli around her plate, trying like hell to maintain her calm and collected composure, which was quite a feat for her at this point in the evening. Her dining companion was going on and on about the championship victory of his soccer team while not so subtly inflating his massive ego in the process. "- and then father sent the entire team on a trip to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving. It was fantastic, really. The weather surpasses any dreary garbage Hillwood could ever offer in late November! Have you ever been?"
She glanced down at her watch; it had taken him nearly twenty minutes to stop talking. Good god. "No, I haven't." the subtle twitch of her eye went unnoticed, "So, Hayden… Have you been to Brazil? My old man mentioned something about your dad owning a factory somewhere over there." Their limited time together was dwindling, and Helga needed to get down to business. It was why she was here, after all.
Damn you, Bob!
"Brazil?" He raised a perfectly maintained eyebrow at her. Normally Helga wouldn't be as brazen about her inquiries, but something about the vacant look in Hayden's eyes told her she wasn't blowing her cover in front of him. He was far too stuck up his own ass to put two and two together. "Of course I have. I've been to the Carnival festival several times. There's no factory there, though. My dad supposedly does other dealings there occasionally." He flicked his wrist dismissively in the air. "I think one of his mistresses lives in Rio."
All the color drained from Helga's face. There's no factory. "I- I see." The entire evening was a wash. This marked the third time Bob sent her on a wild goose chase, completely wasting her time and energy on one of his damn 'hunches'.
She nearly screeched in horror when Hayden's larger hand landed on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "Father is away on business in South Korea for the rest of the week, and mother is in Boston visiting family. How about we head over to the estate for drinks? I can show you my trophy room!"
DAMN YOU, BOB!
"No thank you. I'm only eighteen." She quickly slid her hand away from his highly unwanted touch. "Besides, my father is expecting me home soon." Which wasn't a lie. Her barbaric father and his uptight assistant would be pouncing on her the second she walked through the front door, demanding to know whatever measly information she managed to extract from this bozo.
This entire process was turning out to be a nightmare. It was supposed to be simple enough; be a gopher. Get intel on the movement of Bob's business competitors for him, and in turn he would let her attend college on his dollar, so long as she performed her duties. After a few weeks of being a part of his scheme, Helga knew she was in over her head. Her initial 'assignments' were menial and only required some digging on her part. The first time Bob suggested using someone's son for information, she visualized her perfect plans being derailed in spectacular fashion. Helga was hardly a femme fatale. Did her old man seriously expect her to continuously rub elbows with a bunch of trust fund brats for a scrap of information that might be useful to him and his team? She only managed to snag some alone time with Hayden because she flashed a little cleavage at him and pretended to find him fascinating when she 'accidentally' ran into him after one of his afternoon classes. Her interactions with him made her feel skeevy. Was this what she had to look forward to for the next four years of her life?
Enough was enough.
As was expected, Bob was anxiously waiting for Helga as soon as she walked in. "Don't even start with me!" she held her hand up to her rapidly approaching father, making her complete and utter disdain known. "Your instincts must be on the fritz, Bob! Hayden's dad doesn't have a single damn factory in Brazil. Oh, and that creep was trying to lure me to his 'estate' and get me DRUNK! This whole thing is getting out of hand! Please tell me he's the last one I need to do this with!"
"WHAT!?" Bob dramatically gasped, placing his hand over his heart and looking aghast. "You're telling me there's no factory!? Damn it!"
"Crimeny." she muttered. "That's all you managed to pick up from that? Ugh, forget it, I'm outta here!" she removed her coat and angrily flung it on her shoulder, stomping towards the stairs.
Her face ran directly into a firm chest before she could leave. "Good evening, Miss Helga." Bob's assistant, Gregory had entered the room with his trusty iPad in hand, casually moving Helga away from his personal space. Heaven forbid he got a speck of dirt on his designer suit. Without looking up, he began dutifully searching through some kind of digital document. "You said there's no factory? Hmm… Perhaps it's in Turkey with his supplier-" He finally lifted his head in acknowledgement of her, his dark brown eyes gave her a once over. "I see you've made it back in one piece, and there's an absence of bodily injury. Need I remind you there's a very strict 'no violence' policy in your contractual agreement with Mr. Pataki? So, I assume it's safe to say the young man in question is still intact after your rendezvous?"
"For fucks sake, Gregory! 'Rendezvous'? MY ASS!"
"Hey! Watch your mouth little lady." The foreboding rumble in Bob's tone made her clam up immediately. Getting him angry with her only made life more difficult than it needed to be. She wanted an easy, painless college experience. Losing her privileges wasn't in the cards. "The boy is fine, right? Did he give you anything to work with? This is important!"
"He's perfectly fine… other than the fact he has the mental capacity of a moldy grapefruit, and he'll probably marry a gold digger who bleeds his bank account dry until he's nothing but a shadow of a man who needs to have mistresses strewn about all over the world in order to feel like he's worth something." Helga was certain she nearly got Gregory to crack a smile for a second, but the vein currently bulging in her father's forehead indicated that Bob wasn't in the mood for Helga's brand of sass. "Look, Bob; Hayden isn't a conversationalist. I got an earful about his workout routine if you'd like to know his secrets for a sculpted six pack and exquisite glute muscles." She intoned dryly. "His daddy dearest is in South Korea on business. That's the only thing he retained in that smooth brain of his." The two men shared a look before Bob reached out to gently pat the top of her head. Physical touch between the two was few and far between. It was an understatement to say she was confused. "What in the world?"
"You did good, kid. We might not know if that bastard has a factory hidden away somewhere, but we know exactly who he's going to for extra funding! That son of a bitch." Her father got a familiar scheming look and a twinkle in his eyes.
She wanted to shoot her shot while he was still in a good mood; "If I did so good, can we please cool it with the info fishing already? It sucks! Plus, I need to focus on school."
"We had a deal, remember?" He didn't hesitate to remind her of her deal with the devil. "Besides, what's the harm? It's not like you have a boyfriend or something."
Her ears perked up at that. "Well… what if I had a boyfriend?"
"Then we'd adjust our tactics, or whatever." Bob and Gregory were already lost in their little business bubble, oblivious to Helga and the rest of the world. Once he got the information he wanted from her, she essentially became invisible until the next time he needed her to do his dirty work. Instead of getting offended by Bob's disregard, Helga had learned to consider it her weird superpower. It was the easiest way to cope with their deeply dysfunctional relationship. Plus, it gave her a certain level of freedom within her life.
"A boyfriend." She repeated quietly to herself. "… I guess that's not the worst option."
* Two Weeks Later *
"You know, in some countries this would be considered torture." Helga squirmed uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Gregory's car, attempting in vain to adjust her skirt to cover her overly exposed thighs. It was early January in Hillwood, and snow was blanketing the city. She was currently decked out in a light pink tennis outfit, questioning every life choice she's made so far. "Crimeny, Gregory! Why can't I 'run into' this guy at the clubhouse restaurant or something? I don't even play tennis! UGH!"
"Now now." Gregory tutted, "This isn't just anyone. You're dealing with Rex Smythe-Higgins III. He comes from one of the wealthiest families in the entire world. Your father is entrusting you to deal with him because you're quite charming when you want to be, and Rex is… well… unsociable." He pulled up at the front entrance of the country club, exiting the vehicle to open the passenger door for her and handing her a pink tennis bag that perfectly matched her outfit. He really went all out with this one. "As for your dissatisfaction with your designated meeting location with him, I have no control over that, unfortunately. Mr. Smythe-Higgens only attends the club for their indoor tennis courts." He gestured to the snow. "For obvious reasons, ma'am."
"Don't you start 'ma'am-ing' ME, bucko!" Helga nudged him out of the way, heading for the entrance. "Besides," she coyly glanced over her shoulder, grinning. "We've known each other for nine years. If I'm 'ma'am', you're 'gramps'."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm only twenty-seven, but fair enough, Miss Helga."
"Okay," she sighed, rolling her shoulders to recenter herself. "Enough stalling! I'll call you when I'm done here, alright? Wish me luck!" After a quick wave goodbye, she went inside.
Helga had been to the country club a whopping two times prior to this. The last time was far more memorable than the first, on account of her getting kicked out of the golf course for reckless driving in the golf cart while caddying for Bob. He never let her forget her 'unacceptable' behavior, and to top it off, he withheld her actual driving privileges for six months afterwards. Bob knew exactly how to punish Helga where it'd affect her the most. Being the second born child of a ruthless businessman gave Helga the upper hand in life, but it was also a handicap for a rebellious teenage girl. Her father was seen by the outside world as a hardheaded brute, a touch crude, and downright nasty to those that got in his way. He was all those things. But he was also a father, too. Olga was the light of his life, his firstborn, and his little princess who could do no wrong. Helga was 'the extra', the complicated one, and just as stubborn as Bob. It took a godawful amount of time for the two of them to stop butting heads, which eased up as Helga grew older. Their relationship always seemed to be a work in progress, which eventually lead to the weird situation she was currently in.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
Several sets of leering eyes were on her as she made her way through the indoor tennis area in search of Rex. She was given a debriefing the night before about him, and what exactly she should be asking to get the right information. Gregory made a point to repeatedly warn her that Rex wasn't going to be as simple-minded as her previous targets. Basically, he was a genius with an attitude to boot. Helga wasn't intimidated by a smart aleck; it was the people who played mind games that were far more challenging to tackle.
"There you are." Helga spotted Rex at the furthest court in the room. He was completely alone, serving the ball to a large wall. She approached the empty court next to his, removing her jacket and tossing it on the shared metal bench between them. He seemed oblivious to her presence, or perhaps indifferent. There wasn't any sort of acknowledgement from him at all. "That's quite a serve you have." Rex finally looked over at her. The expression on his face was indiscernible. "Do you take lessons?"
"Do you always ask asinine questions? What poppycock." He had the most irritating posh accent she's ever heard. "Would you kindly move to a different court? I prefer to practice in solitude."
You piece of shit.
"Such a gentleman." She finally pulled her tennis racket from her bag, rolling it between her palms before swinging it harshly through the air while debating if she was going to crack him over the head with it if he pissed her off enough. Rex was living up to his unpleasant reputation, and then some. If it wasn't for the 'no violence' clause in her deal with Bob, this stuffed shirt would be crawling on the floor like the lowly grub he was. "I didn't realize you were the dictator of the courts." Every instinct in her body was telling her to blow this off, but she remained steadfast. She made a commitment to her father to see this through. "What's your deal, anyway? You don't ever play in matches, or pairs? Surely you have tons of friends willing to step in."
"I don't have time for friends, nor this droll facade you've got going on." He angrily sighed, lowering his racket. "I have a busy schedule this afternoon, enough of this nonsense! What do you want from me, Helga?"
"What are you talking abo-" her eyes widened.
I never said my name.
The soulless smirk on Rex's face was nausea inducing. "Helga G. Pataki. Second daughter of Robert Pataki, better known as 'Big Bob' by the rest of the knuckle dragging general population. It's fascinating, really. For someone raised in high society, you behave like a proper buffoon. I expected more from Olga's sister-"
"Shut your mouth." She growled, keeping her teeth tightly clenched. The other patrons of the country club were still off in the distance, and if she caused a scene, things could get dicey. "How do you know me, anyway? We've never met!"
He took a few steps closer, clearly trying to intimidate her. "Unlike your scumbag father, I don't need my family to get information for me. I have actual connections-"
"You little!-" Helga was poked harshly in the sternum with the tip of Rex's racket before she could reach out to shove him.
"I'd caution you to consider your next move carefully, you miscreant."
She was cornered before she could even try and work Rex over. There was no use attempting to outwit him when he already knew her every move. "Who's the battery supplier for your grandfather's factory? Bob thinks he's being double-crossed and overcharged, and he needs definitive proof. The paper trails lead to your grandpa."
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He lowered the racket and tossed it aside. Tennis was clearly no longer on his mind. "Information doesn't come cheap, you know. I expect compensation for my efforts."
"How much?" she practically spat in disgust. This freak was conning people for money?
He brazenly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. "Thirty minutes should suffice, no?" his grip tightened, "Hayden had nothing but glowing reviews for your services."
Helga's blood ran cold. What in the world was that babbling idiot telling people about her!? She gave him a hard shove to put distance between them. "You're gravely mistaken, bucko! I'm not handing out sexual favors for some measly information. Hayden is a fucking bird-brained moron. That guy barely knows how to use a toilet without assistance, let alone have sex with another human being. Talking to him was a waste of time!"
He let out a pompous laugh, "Dear me, you're quite amusing! What you lack in class you more than make up with that mouth of yours." When he encroached on her personal space once again, she attempted to take a step back but tripped on the corner of the bench. His catlike reflexes caught her mid-fall, bringing their faces close together. Too close. "It begs the question… what else does that mouth do?- OOF!" Helga's knee met his groin with a thud, causing him to release her while he doubled over in pain.
"Don't touch me, EVER! You're a disgusting pig." Helga grabbed her jacket and bag, turning to leave. She let out a shriek as she was pulled backward by her ponytail. Rex had managed to get back on his feet, "WHAT THE FUCK!?" This wasn't part of her job description anymore. She was genuinely scared of this creep. I need to call Gregory. "You're hurting me. Stop it!" Her phone was in her bag, which was currently sitting on the floor. He wouldn't release her long enough to bend over to get it.
"Stop it, Rex!" The pressure eased on her scalp, and she realized there was another person there with them. From the corner of her eye, she could see they were dressed in an attendant's uniform. He was holding on to Rex's wrist, who was still holding Helga's hair. "You've been warned multiple times about your conduct with female patrons and staff. You're done here."
"Oh, piss off!" Rex scoffed. "This little harlot is hardly any of your concern. Besides, you can't kick me out! You'd be sued into oblivion. Know your place!"
"It doesn't matter how much money you have. There are cameras everywhere, Rex. You don't have a leg to stand on anymore. Everything was recorded! Do yourself a favor and let her go." The mystery attendant tilted his head, making eye contact with Helga for the first time. "Are you alright?"
"NO!" she glared. "How would you feel if your hair was being forcefully ripped from your scalp!?"
"Shut up, you tart!" Rex gave her hair another tug, making her squawk in disapproval.
The sound of the attendant's fist slamming into Rex's gut was harsh and fast. Helga nearly cried in relief when she was finally released. It seemed like the intense blow to his stomach was enough to keep him down this time. "Come on, let's get you out of here." Helga was still in fight or flight mode. The world felt like it was going in slow motion around her, and it barely registered that she was being led by the wrist into a small office off to the side of the tennis courts. As soon as they were inside with the door closed, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began dialing.
She eyed him warily, "What are you doing?"
"Um, calling the police?" he questioningly raised an eyebrow at her.
Bob's gonna kill me for this if he finds out!
"NO!" she practically lunged forward to try and stop him. "Don't! There's no need for that-" Her eyes flicked down to his name tag, "Arnold. Please! No police. I don't want to make a scene."
"You do realize that man assaulted you, right? You're telling me you don't want me to get the cops involved?"
"Doi!" her eyes rolled. "That nutjob is Rex Smythe-Higgins III. Anyone with a brain would know going after him is a mistake. His family can bury anyone, especially you! What in the name of creation were you thinking, hitting him like that!? Crimeny." Helga began pacing back and forth in the small room, trying to figure out her next move. First, she'd have to come up with an excuse for her failure with Rex to feed her father and Gregory. Secondly… she needed to deal with Rex himself. There was no way he was going to let this whole thing slide. He was punched by the help, which added insult to injury.
I'm so screwed.
"You look like you're about to faint. I think you should sit down." Arnold held a chair out for her, gesturing to it. Once she was seated, he let out a long sigh, staring pensively at the ceiling. "So, is this some sort of new practice amongst the upper crust that I'm unaware of? You're fine with that weirdo running around attacking women like that?"
"Just shut up." she muttered. "You wouldn't get it." Trying to explain the intricacies of dealing with someone like Rex was damn near impossible. Not to mention her own complicated situation on top of it.
Arnold's expression darkened. "Right. I suppose I couldn't possibly understand basic human decency. Such an abstruse concept!" He tossed Helga's bag into her lap, followed by her jacket. "Since we're done here, I need to get back to work. You can let yourself out. Goodbye." Despite clearly being irritated with her, he left the office without another word, softly closing the door behind himself.
Way to go, idiot. Piss off the one person willing to help you! She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, groaning. Her pity party was interrupted by the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag. Gregory's name with a skull and crossbones flashed on the screen. Helga took several deep breaths before answering, "Hey Gregory. What's up?"
"Are you still with Mr. Smythe-Higgins?"
"… No." she bit her lip in an attempt to contain the tears burning her eyes. "Mission failed."
Gregory immediately knew something was amiss, "Where are you?" The sound of her sniffling sent him into a panic. "Miss Helga! I need to know where you are! Miss-"
The office door swung open again. Arnold stood in the doorway for several seconds, assessing the situation. "I had an inkling." He sighed.
Helga lowered the phone from her ear, disconnecting the call. She was feeling thoroughly beaten down and humiliated by the entire situation, and now this random guy has seen her get manhandled by a rich asshole, and cry about it. "You came back." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why?"
"That whole 'basic human decency' thing." He hopped up onto the desk, facing her. "It's universally understood." They sat in silence for several minutes while Helga composed herself. Leaving the country club in tears would only add to her humiliation. "Are you injured at all?"
"I'm fine. Physically, anyway. My pride took quite a beating though." She held her phone up and turned the camera on to examine her appearance. It was the first thing Gregory would notice when she stepped outside. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her skin was splotchy. "Shit!" A wave of fresh embarrassment washed over her when she realized Arnold saw her in this condition as well.
"I've never seen you around here before. At the club, I mean. I've been working here for over a year now. Are you new-"
"Alright, bucko. I know what you're doing." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have to babysit me. I'm fine now."
His half-lidded gaze and soft smile made her scowl falter, albeit briefly. "Duly noted."
"MISS HELGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Gregory's frantic, disembodied voice in the distance got both of their attention.
"Oh, crap." Helga muttered. "That's my old man's assistant. He probably thinks I've been murdered or something." She opened the office door, peeking her head out. "Gregory?" He immediately whipped around in her direction like a trained bloodhound. If she wasn't in such a terrible mood, she might have found it funny to see a man in business attire sprinting across a tennis court at full speed. "Damn, he should have been in track." She whispered.
"Miss Helga! Are you alright!?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and examined her physical appearance. Her ponytail was askew and disheveled, and she'd clearly been crying. His eyes grew comically wide. "Goodness. What happ-" he glanced over her shoulder, finally noticing Arnold in the office with her. Oh, no. "YOU!" he pointed an accusatory finger at him. "What have you done? Have you no decency!? I'm calling the authorities."
"Gregory, stop! It's not what it looks like!" She was practically dangling herself from the taller man's forearm to keep his phone from his ear. "Arnold didn't do anything wrong! I can explain everything."
"Then explain." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes never left Arnold.
"Can we do this at home?" she begged, hoping he would take pity on her and take her back home. Helga needed time to concoct a story that didn't involve the truth about what happened with Rex. Gregory simply shook his head at her request, leaning against the doorway and blocking their only exit. Come to think of it, Helga couldn't recall seeing him get this angry before… Ever. On most occasions, Gregory was a mild-mannered man who followed her father around like a loyal pet. Seeing Helga in such distress seemed to flip some sort of switch in him.
"I don't know what you're thinking I've done to her, but I haven't." Arnold finally interjected in the conversation, growing tired of being accused of being some sort of pervert. "That weird guy was the one harassing her-"
"AHHHHHHHH!" Helga harshly slapped her hand over his mouth. She made sure her back was to Gregory before giving him a pleading look, "What he means is… Well… Uh…" I didn't have time to think about this! "Arnold was…"
He reached up to remove her hand from his mouth, staring at her like she was crazy. "I was what, exactly?"
"Jealous!" she blurted.
"What!?" Both men chimed in with the same level of confusion.
"He saw me with Rex! I tripped over one of those stupid benches out there, and Rex was helping me up." she gestured to her hair. "That's why I look like this! Anyway, Arnold thought Rex was hitting on me. It was a misunderstanding, you know? We've already cleared things up between us." Arnold remained completely slack jawed as Helga slipped her arm possessively around his, gripping it tightly to her chest. "We're dating!"
Gregory stared in silence for a painful amount of time, and Helga was afraid Arnold might denounce every word from her mouth and toss them both out once he came to his senses again. "Dating?" his brow furrowed. "You're dating... Him?"
"Hey! Arnold is a good guy, Gregory. Don't be rude!" She looked up at Arnold from the corner of her eye. He seemed to be internally debating whether he should say something or not. "Now that we've cleared this whole thing up, we should probably get going. Bob's waiting, right? And, um… I'm sorry about today, Arnold." She could only hope he understood what she was apologizing for. It wasn't like she could send Gregory away so she could beg for his forgiveness.
The strange duo took off shortly after she awkwardly bid him goodbye. Arnold remained in place for several minutes, still in shock. "… What the hell?"