darker_london | The Piano Man (Devon, Johan)

It wasn't beyond the realms of believability that Devon would come upon some resident of the Kempf Manor that she hadn't met yet. Sure, there were several branches of the family, each claiming a part of the manor as their own so they could continue living amoungst the only people they considered their equals. But it was happening less and less, so when she saw an unfamiliar man on the stairs, she slowed down to take a good look, then she winked and said, "Hey!" Just to be American in his general direction before she continued on.

Only to freeze a moment later when he said, "Hey, yourself" in reply. His voice was cheerful, kind and warm, which was the opposite of most of the voices in this godforsaken place.

Devon turned and she grinned. "So you're not horrified by my abuse of the English vernacular...and you're not offended I won't speak the mother tongue?"

"On the contrary, Dear Girl." The man replied back in perfect English, though his German accent was unmistakable. "I rather think the English vernacular deserves a little abuse. And that goes doubly so for German, don't you think?"

Oh, Devon liked him! He wasn't weird and horrible and hiding homocidal thoughts behind his words. Unless he hid them very well... "I'm Devon!" She chirped, walking down a few stairs to stand opposite him. She leaned against the opulent wood bannister and she watched as his face seemed to take on a look of understanding.

"Ah. Hannelore's daughter..."

It was very strange for Devon to hear her mother's name. The people around here seemed to avoid saying it, and Devon understood why. Hannelore hadn't believed in treating other people like shite like they did. She'd run away from them and lived in the US and raised her illegitimate daughter without her family's money or approval. No wonder they wanted to forget she existed. "Yeah. You knew her?"

"I certainly did. And Dear Girl...I notice your use of the past tense there. I am deeply sorry. No one told me... Your mother was a good woman, Devon. She and I-"

"BERTOLT!" Helsa had appeared at the top of the stairs and when Devon stopped to look up at her, she swore Helsa was actually so mad she was shimmering or something...

"Yikes." The man looked at Devon and he wiggled his eyebrows. "The harridan's angry." He looked up at Helsa and he gave her a pleasant little smile. "Hallo, Helsa. Wie gehts?"

"Geh raus!" Helsa demanded, pointing to the door. "Jetzt!!"

He saluted her, much like a Nazi salute, actually... "Ja wohl, meine Tante." And he turned to Devon. "Would you like to 'geh raus' with me? It's easier to talk without her fuming in the background anyway."

Devon didn't know German well, but she assumed that meant leaving the building, and in that case, "yeah!" She said, following him as he walked down the stairs and towards the door. She remembered her mother mentioning a Bertolt. Her favourite cousin. Once they were outside, Devon walked beside him across the immense grounds. "So you're cousin Bertolt?"

He shuddered. "If you must, though I'd rather be cousin Johan. It's my middle name, and one I prefer in all instances. And Helsa knows it too."

"My mom talked about you a lot. Were you friends when you grew up here?"

"Oh heavens no." Johan said, remembering. "I was far too full of myself to be bothered with people younger than me, even if they were family." Devon gave him a quizzical look, so he continued. "I was just finishing university in Vienna when I started spending time with Hannelore. Her parents were diplomats...I'm sure you know that! They had just moved there and I was slowly realising the world was a very different place from what I'd been told it was. She was about 14. And she made for a very good companion when everyone else I was related to was such a terrible boor. And she was the only one who bothered to keep in contact with me after I was disowned."

"You were disowned?!" Devon knew her mother had sort of been too, but that had been her own choice. "Wh..what did you do?!"

"Oh, a great many things." Johan looked wistful for a moment as he buttoned up his jacket. "I almost married a black woman until I realised I also fancied men. And then...I fancied men! I wouldn't join in with the family business. I called Aunt Helsa a baboon's arse at a party... All sorts of things which are unwholesome when you're full of yourself and the stick up your bum."

Devon laughed. Brilliant. "Then why are you here now?!"

"My mother asks me to visit once every few years. I think she thinks being cut off from the family fortune will eventually bring me back into the family fold. And I come just to see the look on her face when she realises I'd rather burn in hell. And then dear Aunt Helsa screams and I remember why I hated my childhood..."

"You don't miss it then?" Devon said with a snort.

"The restrictive life of a wealthy criminal nazi-sympathiser? Not on your life." As they walked, Johan pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and he lit one, blowing the smoke out slowly. "Devon...may I ask why you're here?" He knew Hannelore wouldn't like it. Not at all... "Do you actually like it here?"

"No!" Devon's answer was so immediate, that Johan's eyes widened and then he laughed. "It's stupid here! Everyone just...HATES each other! But they pretend they don't! I was living with my dad, but they hate him more than each other."

"Your father is Dietrich Gottlieb?" Johann asked.

"Yeah."

"Say no more. I understand." Of course that damn Helsa wouldn't want her family living with Dietrich. He was Jewish. What a fucking bitch. "And you miss him?"

"Yeah." Devon kicked at the earth as they walked, feeling quite homesick. "Here there's crystal and caviar and horses...and there there's bare lightbulbs and left-over pizza...dad's a vet so he kind of smells like horses... But we'd stay up late and watch movies or make milkshakes for dinner. He didn't know about me. Well...he didn't think I...reached the whole being born bit. So he didn't have to take me in, but he did anyway. He could have said he didn't owe me anything. But he didn't."

"He sounds like a wonderful man."

"He is! And they threatened him so I had to come!" Devon sort of growled and she stared at the wrought-iron gate they were rapidly approaching. It was like a prison gate...it certainly made her feel trapped even though the manor was larger than some towns... "And I'm stuck here and I want them to send me away, but Helsa's crazy about keeping family together or something..."

"That would be my fault, I'm afraid." Johan looked guilty. "She never had children, and my mother is her twin sister so when I 'betrayed' them all, she took it rather personally. I think it may have broken something in her mind that wasn't completely unbroken to begin with..."

"Weird..."

"Certainly. However...I'm sure I have a few ideas that might stir things up. And and the end of it, they'll probably want to send you far away, but you must be brave...not to mention careful..." His family were criminals...

"I'm totally ballsy!" Devon chirped, finding renewed energy in whatever Johan was about to offer her.

"Hah! Now that I believe!" Johan glanced around conspiratorially and then he leaned close. "Now here is what I would do..."