Compared to the dreary city of Disappointment, Anna’s mansion was a refreshing splash of color and style. Her entire property screamed flamboyantly of elegance, pride, and above all, luxury. The front door alone presented a charisma that spoke volumes. To even get to it one would have to walk through a courtyard filled with flowers of all sorts and shapes. Vines of various sizes—some thick with just leaves, others thin with thorns—weaved arms and tentacles over a mixture of polished granite, marble, and quarts that formed walls which rivaled paintings. Potted palm trees guarded a shallow pond, home to a school of koi fish. Butterflies fraternized with the birds of paradise, roses, water lilies, daisies, tulips, orchids, irises, carnations, and dozens of other flowers imported from worlds beyond that wretched city of Disappointment.

The door itself was easily over ten feet tall, made of black walnut wood and iron. Around it was a column of glass that extended up into the next two stories, finally stopping at the roof. Such a sight was only the beginning; it held no comparison to the inside and backyard.

Every room (including servants) had a walk in closet and personal bathroom. The master bedroom was more like a small house that had been carefully placed on top of the mansion. It had a large patio with trees that served as a resting place for her many parrots, its own small courtyard and fountain, a balcony with a view to the city, and furniture lined with silk and gold.

Her library was filled with souvenirs from her world traveling and trinkets she had collected over the years. She had at least one artifact for each country, even the ones she hadn’t seen yet.

The foyer was decorated with elaborate paintings. The great room had windows that stretched from the floor to the cathedral ceiling, giving a view to a large yard with a pool and garden. The dining room, though, had a modest table with room for only two or three. Although its simplicity was beautiful, it seemed lonely. In fact, the entire mansion seemed lonely and quiet. A place so immense was expected to have noise to fill its great space, yet there were no voices laughing or casually chatting. Instead, silence. Dust was brushed away by silent maids and meals were prepared with minimum communication. Anna liked it that way. Quiet, beautiful, and clean.

She warily shifted through paperwork, signing here and there with an old pen. Her boney hands trembled as she turned a page. Just as she was about to sigh, a knock came from the door. A butler smiled cautiously with knowing eyes. Despite her reputation, he enjoyed his work.
“Er, Miss Anna…? May I…”

Anna waved him in, then combed her fingers through her bobbed dark hair. She seemed like the ideal flapper, a “new breed” of women. She dressed in latest fashion; short hair, short sleeveless dress, heels, large fur coat, excessive make up, and the occasional hat. Her behavior, even for a rich socialite and business woman, was horrendous. So much so that she had gained a new nick name for herself; Beast. The very thought of it made her smile.

“What is it?”
“There’s a man here to see you, something about his father?”

Anna placed her pen to the side. “The idiot who can’t pay off his loan, Mr. Belle I think. Send him in.”


(>.e Sorry, I got carried away.)

It seemed the Belle family was cursed of peculiar misfortunes and bad circumstance, as was clearly seen in the family history of poverty, deaths and apparently now - debt. Marius Belle, Jacques' father, came to America with the hopes of starting a family. And with the rise of the Jazz Age, acceptance of blacks in the country were well accepted. Though little was it known that black French men marrying a white American women was not quite as accepted as pre conceived and the gilded age seemed just that - gilded; a layer of gold made only to hide the prejudice beneath.

There was a history of horrible deaths and endings to every one of the Belle name, the earliest Jacques recalling in his family's history was his great grandmother that was burned to death by her own bath water, or his grandfather that died from eating too many bad potatoes. It was his father's predicament that while wasn't quite as amusing as his uncle Jean's death (by stroke that was caused during oral sex, he had thought he heard his father say), it was Jacques that was beginning to think the curse of a miserable life of the Belles was indeed real.

Marius, after his wife had died (a rather normal death, actually), had decided to put forth money into his part-time writing career. He had been made a rather small loan from a woman investor that owned a hefty business at the edge of town. This small loan was something to be thought easily dealt with, putting it toward some rather fancy blue ink pens that he had seen in a brochure. It was when 502 pens were delivered to his house did Marius Belle and his son Jacques become financially crippled.

(The small print on the brochure read - no refunds.)

Marius Belle could have easily gone to jail for his now out of proportion debt, never being able to pay back the woman that he now owed 449 dollars and 51 cents to. But Jacques, his diplomatic though a bit optimistic son, had reasoned, "Surely she will come to an agreement."

Jacques Belle had the air of someone rather capable, usually noted for his quick wit and a bit sarcastic nature, he was over all seen as a pleasant young man that worked for his father's printing shop. He had the olive complexion of a half black and white man, though could have been taken as either. His jaw line was strong and looked to be hard worker as seen by his callouses and dirty under nails. He wore a modest worker's white button shirt, brown pants and suspenders. He had been in such a rush, he had forgotten his jacket; Jacque hoped his manners would suffice when faced with the possible fate of his family.

Though of his rather plain appearance, the most distinguishing was perhaps his blue eyes of his mother, striking with such dark contrasts of his dark skin and brown and messily tied back dread locks. His gaze had an aura of kindness about it, that Jacques would protest and eagerly shoot down any compliments about.

His father did not deserve this, did not deserve to go to jail, and not being foreign to the idea of hard work, Jacques had decided he would offer up some kind of deal to this women. Surely she was reasonable. This was the era of payment plans and money.. he removed his bowler hat upon reaching the steps of the extravagant estate. The Butler seemed nice enough, though did not look as optimistic as he felt, only smiling sadly at him as he entered upon his introduction.

The Beast, he had heard her called, sat rather prettily on the other side of the room. Not looking very old in Jacques' opinion, half expecting an old hag. His face was rather plain despite his surprised reaction. His eyes flickered to the look of condescension that traced her lips, making her sudden pretty appearance disappear.

"..Er, good evening, Ms.. Anna," his slight French accent tracing his tone, he bowed to her politely, clearing his throat. "My name is Jacques Belle, I am the son of Marius, owner of the Belle Printing Co. This has been a big misunderstanding," he began cooly. He was fairly sure she all ready knew the details of how his father's loan had been made. The 502 dreaded ink pens.. when it seemed the brochure company disappeared off the face of the earth a week after they received the order, Jacques was sure that she wouldn't believe him even if he reasoned it. So.. it seemed, they would just have to pay it back.

"I am sure you know that my father could go to jail for this. But I came to opt a payment plan so that you, Ms. Anna, do receive the money. I have come to negotiate.." he said honestly, peering at her, waiting for a reply.

Anna merely blinked and uttered one word, "No."

Her eyes looked back down to her paperwork as an arm extended to get the pen. She looked up again, genuinely surprised he was still there. "450 dollars was to be returned to me with interest by next week. There is no negotiations in such a business deal. You want negotiations? Here," she yanked a desk drawer open and pulled out a folder, "This is your negotiations. This is your 'payment plan'."

She tossed the folder at him roughly. "I am not a charity, I do not give out money for free. Look around! Does this place look like it was built on hopes and dreams? On loans I could not afford?"

Anna sat back and closed her eyes. It was much too early to get this upset. One hand tapped against the arm rest, the other rubbed the side of her neck as she thought of what to do. It was obvious that his father being jailed would not bring the money back. Yet, there were no other options. Favorable options, anyways.

"Do you have anything of value? And if not, any skills that could be put to good use?"

She grinned slightly, thinking of all the possibilities. Perhaps he wasn't useless. He was exotic looking with an accent, looked like the honest type. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of it.

"No! How about this. I will pay you a dollar a day to be my personal assistant. If anything you'll be a great conversation piece."

The sudden and affirmative answer came as a bit of a shock to Jacques, raising his bowed head to peer at her. She didn't even look at him. He felt insulted, standing there until more passed between them, he refused to let this go. It seemed that few had succeeded where he had failed, as the conversation seemed over and Just when he thought the silence wouldn't dissipate, she spoke up again, looking at him with surprise and frustration.

The Beast was a true enough name was all he could think when she tossed the manila folder at him, watching it skid across the floor at his feet. He stood there with discipline, quietly listening to her ragings.

And then, like a storm, her mood changed completely. The frustrated dealings of an avarice changed into one of someone simply ambitious. Her eyes lit up slightly when looking at him now, he couldn't help but think this was probably not better than her gazing darkly at him moments before.

"No! How about this..."

This time, it was he that looked at her with surprise, taken off guard enough to let his face give it away. And then, in a moment, his egotism flickered with anger across his features.

"Conversation piece?--" he wanted to go on, venom in his tone, but quickly cleared his throat to stop himself, and averted his eyes. His gaze fell to the papers at his feet. Slowly, in deep thought, Jacques picked them up and straightened them, staring at the folder as though he could read right through it. The weight of what was happening was evident in his now slackened shoulders.

This could be a good thing, he assured, the low pay was not much better at the press, and his father would not go to jail. Over and over, he thought of how this could go badly. He had not worked for a tyrant such as this woman, before, let alone closely. Surely she would give him his rights to visit his family, maybe write letters, which was the biggest thing in question. How would his father fair without him? Probably worse off in jail.

All remote kindness that was on his face seemed to be zapped from him. His listless expression now laced with uncertainty. None the less, he replied, "I will work for you.." he began, "..but I want our agreement in ink. I want my father to be left alone in this." He peered at her. His last bit of control, he wanted to at least know that selling his soul would be viable.

"So he can move, and then you'll run off as well? No."

Anna sat forward again to rummage through her desk. She pulled out a new piece of paper and began to write their agreement down. "Your father will report to me every weekend. If he does not show up for two weeks, the deal is off and I will have him tracked down."

It seemed as if she had made such deals before, like playing with families and lives was merely a business. "As for you, you are to do as I say. I will be reasonable, and at no time will your life be in danger. If you fail to follow orders on a consistent basis, your father will be incarcerated." She paused while scribbling down a few basic sentences, concentrating. Another dark smile flickered across her face as she added, "I have eyes all over the castle. I will know if your work is slacking."

The beast finished the contract, then turned the paper and slid it across the desk to him. Her writing was readable, but sloppy, as if it was only a note that would soon be thrown away. Nothing formal, nothing that deal with someone's livelihood and freedom.

Her dark eyes stared at him eagerly, like a child waiting to open a present. What fun he could be! A new toy she could order around! Someone to keep her company, someone who can fill the silence she had enforced upon her household. She sat back and crossed her legs to get comfortable. Fashionable clothing was anything but comfortable. Most of her shirts (sleeveless, low v-neck) left her small frame constantly cold. Today's was a brilliant gold color that twinkled with the light. With her wealth and drive to prove her status, she could've easily sprinkled real gold onto it. To add contrast she tucked it into a longer than usual black skirt. Although, it as rather see-through, even with the layer of black lace against the sheer fabric. She finished off the look with black heels and matching obsidian earrings, bracelet, and necklace.

"If you do not know how to write, a simple X will do." Of course, that was more of an insult than helpful advice. What son of a man who orders 502 pens can't read and write? Or was she just forgetful? Perhaps a deal such as this was so common that she didn't bother to put much thought into it?

Her eyes, as always, seemed empty-- devoid of any real rational, humane feelings. They could be compared to a lion's when chasing after prey. Nothing but wild, blood thirsty instinct running through them. They would not blink until its target was dead.

(There, changed it from earlier.)

Her eyes felt like spiders across his skin; sinister looks and deals with the devil, Jacques thought that this woman was what antagonists were made of. He knew little of the definition of 'self discipline' until today, never once feeling the temper churning his blood as it did now. They were not people to step on. Lives of human beings could not be scribbled down.

His expression hard, but gave away little of his thoughts. She was a woman used to this, it showed in every movement she made. And Jacques had never made such a decision in his life, he did not want to appear irresolute. The printer's son stepped forward and took the pen into his knobby fingers, dried ink evident beneath his nails and stained on his finger prints as though he been writing not even an hour ago, he turned the paper and scanned it quickly.

His education was not like most blacks in the city that went to public schools that were harshly underfunded by the state. He was home schooled, raised bilingual, he had taken up several part time jobs writing letters for some of the elder folk that shopped on the main street his father's shop resonated. It was a quiet existence, and not well known to Jacque himself, rather sheltered. Every decision in his life had been made. The shop the gravitating force that held the small, now smaller without Mrs. Belle, together. It was where Jacque had been born, and it seemed, where he would die as well.

If his father had known he was about to do..

Maybe this deal with the devil was a little more than that. It was a decision, a choice. This imprisonment would set his father free, no more collection calls from the Beast's staff, no more dark suited men standing outside the shop and scaring away customers. No more late nights.

Upon finishing, Jacques placed the pen on the line and pressed with the all the emotion he could not express, carving into the paper he wrote his full name. It stood out from the rest of the scripture, lacy, well thought out. Jacques D. Belle.

He sat down the pen and picked up the paper with the same hand. He offered it back to the lion, the beast, his boss and now his antagonist. He offered this villain a forced closed mouth-smile.

"Tell me what I must do," he said politely, pausing a moment and then adding curtly, "Mademoiselle."

"Ooh," she smiled giddily and wiggled in her chair to fake a shiver of excitement, "Mademoiselle, I like that."

The beast snatched up the paper and made an open gesture of disgust. She strategically placed her fingers to avoid getting ink on herself, then shoved the paper back into her desk. It was painfully obvious that that was the last time she would view the note, and that some other poor soul would be in later to review it. In fact, that exact poor soul was lurking outside the room in the hallway, as always.

"Mr. Cogsworth! Would you do me a favor?"
As the awkwardly tall man entered the room, her expression changed to something soft. He smiled willingly, but kept his distance and stayed by the door. Before becoming her lawyer he had been an extremely shy young man, and to this day he felt unworthy of showing her his true feelings, thus literally distanced himself. The moment she graciously gave him a job was the moment he fell hopelessly in love with her. In his eyes she was a saint, an angel that took in social misfits with odd looks and gave them homes and work. He was blind to the fact that he was little more than another exhibit in her mansion of freaks that kept her self confidence up.

"Of course, Miss Anna."
"Be a dear and get Mr. Jacques Belle set up. I'm sure you'll be able to find a spare room and uniform."

His smile fell to a face of disappointment and paranoia as his mind instantly raced with ridiculous thoughts. Was Jacques going to replace him? Was he going to be her new favorite? What if he destroyed any chance of him and her... No, Cogsworth was going to make sure that never ever happened. Despite this, he still felt obligated to give Jacques a shred of hospitality, starting with suggesting a more comfortable start. She always had to be reminded of other people's feelings.

"Of course, Miss Anna. Perhaps I should accompany him back to his house?" When she gave him a questioning look, he continued quickly before she could object, "He deserves to at least pack a few things from home to keep him comfortable."

"Oh, right. Yes, I suppose so. Very well, do what you wish. Don't waste time, though. I would like him to be able to make tonight his first night."

"Right away, Miss Anna. We'll be back for dinner. I'll have Lumière tell Chef Bouche to make something special to commemorate the occasion."

"Thank you, darling." Anna gave him another sweet smile (which made him blush), then smirked at Jacques when Cogsworth turned to leave. "I'll see you both soon."