The Belmont Retreat

“The Belmont, a sprawling man-made retreat situated in glamor hills has finally finished construction!” newsman Steve exclaimed.

He continued, “The hotel will start accepting guests on February 17th. Book your stay on Belmont.com now!”

Dad turned the TV off, “That’s what I called you guys in here for! The Belmont is finally done.”

Mom expressed, “So what? The Belmont is for the wealthy, not for us!”

Dad replied, “The Belmont is for us as I have managed to establish a relationship with the architect, Desso Massun.”

Everyone gasped.

Dad exclaimed, “Yes, that is right! I met Mr. Massun on one of my pest control calls and he was very pleased with my work. He gave me an all-expenses-paid stay at the retreat.”

Mom stood up, “We should not go to the retreat, I mean, we do not possess the qualities of the typical attendees as we have morals.”

Dad refuted, “We have the chance at a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you are concerned about that mess?

My dad was a well-respected pest control specialist who often serviced those of wealth. Although he loved his humble roots, he admired their belongings and way of life. Therefore, it was never a surprise for him to want to stand in a wealthy person’s shoes. On the contrary, my mother despised people of wealth as her best friend stole her business plan and capitalized greatly. Dad instructed us to leave the room while they argued their perspectives about the retreat.

By the next day, I woke up to discover that the retreat was underway. My mother and father must have come to a consensus. My brother Wayne and my sister Kimberly were awake and positioned at the rear of the van loading our belongings. My mom and dad were roaming around the house to ensure things were spotless as we would be gone for a week. I was put in charge of cleaning the dog cage, refilling the automatic food dispenser, and other chores. After a long day of preparation, I flopped on my bed and the rest was a blur.

The next day was February 17th, the day of our departure. We locked up the house and started the two-hour car ride to Glamor Hills. About 25 minutes into the drive, we passed Tranquil Estates, a developing suburb inhabited by elite families. The construction fences had a portrait of Desso Massun, a renowned architect tycoon who constructed numerous residences and commercial properties. Many of the properties boasted large mansions and amenities such as a garden, a gazebo, high-tech security features, and Olympic-sized pools. Just about a mile or so from the suburb, a group of people were dressed in white attire. They spread out around the area socializing and sipping on wine.

My dad interrupted, “Look, everyone! Those people are illustrious wine enthusiasts. They are hosting a celebration for Mr. Massun in recognition of the Belmont Retreat.”

My mother glared at the group of people without much admiration. If anything, she squinted out the window.

She stated, “That figure looks very familiar.”

Dad responded, “Which one?”

Mom pointed, “That one right there.” She continued, “Tall, with broad shoulders, curly hair, and the infamous long pointed heels.”

“And?” dad questioned.

My mother went dead silent. She sat firmly in the passenger's seat and trembled her leg. I proceeded to soak in the rest of the surroundings leading to the Belmont. After an hour or so, we arrived at the end of a long stone road.

“You have reached the Belmont Retreat.” the female voice on the GPS announced.

Two men approached the vehicle to confirm our stay with the retreat. They proceeded to open the main gate into what was an undeniable paradise. Retreat staff roamed from end to end guiding the guests and catering to their needs. Couples swang in hammocks attached to palm trees, kissing and admiring the waterfront view. Others were meditating to a calming CD on their yoga mats. More impressively, the architecture showcased delicate carvings of people enjoying their life. Soon after, a vehicle attendant unloaded our luggage and drove the car to the VIP parking. We then proceeded to follow Mr. Monte, a retreat staff member who hauled our luggage through the premises. He led us to the lobby area and gave us keycards to the penthouse suite. Soon after, I realized my mother had distanced herself away from the family. She was mysteriously analyzing the interior.

Dad turned around, “Hunny, is something wrong?” he asked.

Mom expressed, “This interior seems familiar and not in a good way. I think we should go home!”

Dad exclaimed, “You are talking foolish! How could you disrespect a beautiful place like this?”

Mom grunted, “The details are nice but the person behind it is not! I’m afraid they may be here today,” Mom expressed.

Dad replied, “You must be delirious from the heat, we need to get you a bottle of water.”

“Pit Pat,” light footsteps emerged from behind the family. We turned around to see a slim man, dressed in an expensive white flario suit.

The man introduced himself, “Hello, I am Mr. Massun, the architect of this retreat. I take it that you and your family have had a pleasant time thus far Mr. Cestine.”

My dad responded, “Yes, and I would like to introduce my beautiful family. Everyone, please say hello to Mr. Massun.”

Everyone stated, “Hello!”

“Your dad is a special man to the community. I had no choice but to present such a grand opportunity to his family.” Mr Massun showed gratitude.

He nodded his head, “Well, it was nice meeting you all. I have to return to my celebration.

Before he left, he reached into his suit pocket and distributed a series of pamphlets to us.

The pamphlet read, “GRAND OPENING SPEECH THIS EVENING AT 6:00 PM. LOCATION: 2nd LEVEL MEETING HALL.”

My mother took the pamphlets, crammed them in her pocketbook, and ushered the family towards the busy elevator. By evening time, everyone had enjoyed the first few hours at the retreat. We ate exclusive meals, listened to meditation music, and received a massage. After such experiences, we were sluggish about attending the upcoming event until Dad encouraged us to get ready. It was approximately twenty minutes to six o’clock in the evening when we reached the congested meeting hall. The crowd consisted of about 200 elegantly dressed men and women who made conversation amongst themselves. Around 5:45 PM, an usher directed our family to an immaculate VIP section with champagne and finger food.

Just a few minutes later, Mr. Massun took precedence at the podium, “Hello everyone, I am Mr. Massun and I am elated to have such a wonderful audience tonight.”

He continued, “It is with honor that I come before you all and accept the acknowledgment of my hard work. However, we should remember that tonight is not only about my career as an architect, but a long-lasting pillar of the community, the Belmont Retreat."

Mr. Massun’s speech, although moving and enlightening, became tiresome for me after a while, perhaps due to the earlier activities I experienced. Eventually, the speech came to a close, resulting in a fierce standing ovation that woke me up. Unsurprisingly, my mother was the only person who remained in her seat, examining the interior of the building once more. As I redirected my attention towards the stage, a white figure appeared from behind the curtains. All of a sudden, my mother sprung from her seat, looking to identify the person's face.

“Hunny, what are you doing, you are embarrassing us!” my dad shouted over the noisy crowd.

“Let's get out of here!” mom exclaimed.

Mom pushed us toward the exit to get ahead of the crowd. However, we were too late as half of the attendees had begun to make their exit. We got trapped behind a tall family that made it hard to see the advancement of the line. All of a sudden a group of men appeared from the side of us and forced us through another exit that led to a room. The room consisted of tall glass windows and a neatly set dinner table with food and candles. 

“Have a seat!” the men told us.

We sat at the table.

A group of people who I presumed to be Mr. Massun and his entourage came into the room with an overly jovial attitude.

Mr. Massun stood before the table, “This dinner was prepared by Ontario Fellini, the renowned chef of Glamor Hills. You will enjoy a big steak, a loaded potato, and a healthy cobb salad with a generously filled glass of red wine.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Massun!” my father expressed.

As we began to eat, a tall, curly-haired woman dressed in a white jumpsuit and stiletto heels entered. She went straight for the head of the table, took a seat, and snapped her fingers loudly. Out of nowhere, the room went pitch black. The woman began to speak.

“Kay Cestine, it is a pleasure to reunite with you after all these years. I am happy to see that you are doing well especially after I stole your business plan,” she sarcastically stated.

“ELAINE!” Mom yelled.

“Yes, it is I, the infamous Elaine! muh ha ha ha!” the woman laughed maniacally.

The lights came on.

My mother looked Elaine dead in the face, “I knew I wasn't seeing things! That was you on the stage tonight, and you designed this interior!” 

My mother frantically rose from the dinner table and ran to the door, alarming us to follow behind her. 

“Jiggle, Jiggle,” the door knob stood in place as my mother attempted to open the door.

Elaine revealed, “The door will not open. It is secured with an armor lock.”

Mom turned around and yelled, “Open this damn door or I will…”

“You will what? I'm not afraid of you!” expressed Elaine.

“Click clack,” the woman and Mr. Massun’s entourage began to walk towards us as a collective.

Elaine revealed, “Your invitation to the Belmont Retreat was staged. My purpose was to lure your family here and force your naive father into disclosing the special chemical mix that he exterminated the bugs with on the retreat construction site.”

“Wait a minute, what in the fuck is going on here?” my dad questioned.

“Capitalization and domination,” Mr. Massun uttered.

My dad replied to him, “Mr. Massun, are you in on this?”

Mr. Massun responded, “Yes! I surely am. What architect tycoon would I be if I did not try to expand my financial horizon? It’s all about the dolla baby, and I’ll do anything for it, especially when I have the help of a beautiful mastermind!” he clenched Elaine close to him lovingly.

My mother questioned, “Is Elaine your wife?

“Yes, I am! Now let’s get down to business,” Elaine stated.

Mr. Massun snapped his fingers.

Two big men walked behind me and my siblings. They whipped out a bundle of zip ties and tied us down to the chairs. Meanwhile, Elaine and another man surrounded my parents. The man got behind my dad, folded his arms together, and shoved him into a chair. Mr. Massun slid a piece of paper in front of him.

“What is this for!” Dad asked in a nasty tone.

Mr. Massun replied, “Write the ingredients of the special chemical mix.”

“Fuck you!” Dad smartly remarked as spit slipped from his mouth.

The guard slapped my father.

“Oh my god!” mom cried out.

“Shut the hell up you whiny bitch!” Elaine screamed in my mother’s face.

Dad quickly regained consciousness and positioned himself upright to write down the ingredients of the chemical mix. He scribbled away with little attention to the appearance of his writing.

My dad shoved the paper away from him, “Take it, and leave my family the hell alone!” he yelled.

Mr. Massun grabbed the paper and read aloud, “2 liters of acid, 4 liters of water, and 6 liters of….”

He stopped dead in his speech.

“Don't play with me, write the final ingredient!” Mr. Massun demanded.

Dad took the paper, grabbed the pen, and wrote two letters before throwing a nearby candle onto Mr. Massun’s suit. 

Mr. Massun cursed my dad, “You son of a bitch!” 

He demanded his entourage, “Get those sons of bitches!”

The men began to beat my father.

"Go, get out of here now!" Dad instructed us as he fought the group.

My mother raised a poker and busted out a window pane, causing a cluster of glass to spill outside.

“Ahhhh,” the onlookers began to yell and scatter about the courtyard.

Uncertain of my mother’s intentions, Elaine wrapped a dishcloth around her neck and snatched her up off the ground.

“I gotcha now bitch,” Elaine deviously laughed.

“Ack, Ack!” my mother was choking.

Elaine taunted, “Keep choking like the dog you are! 

Breathless but infuriated, my mother clenched her teeth, locked her arm in an L shape, and bashed Elaine in the chest. Elaine dropped my mother to the ground, attempting to comfort her chest in extreme agony. Now free from the chokehold, my mother armed herself with a long piece of glass as she knew the battle was far from over.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" My mother swiftly raised from the ground, wasting no time to rush Elaine.

She continued, “This is for you bitch! Sling,” blood shot clean across the air and splattered on the wall.

“Oh my god!” Elaine screamed blue murder as she held her bloody face and slid down the wall.

Despite the profuse bleeding and chest injury, Elaine refused to bow out of the fight. She desperately felt around the floor and found a gun. She weakly positioned one hand behind her and pushed herself up off the floor. She raised her eyebrows, widened her red eyes, and looked my mother dead in the face.

“You're gonna die bitch!” Elaine huffed and puffed as she gestured the gun towards my mother.

Elaine cocked the gun and curved her bloody finger on the trigger, but to her surprise, my father won the fight and jumped on top of her, knocking the gun out of range.

Pow! A shot rang out.

A bullet struck one of the walls, weakening the structural integrity of the room. 

Eur, eur, a piercing screech interrupted the violence as the room began to shake and crumble.

My family and I leaped towards the stable side of the room. Mr. Massun, Elaine, and the crew attempted to follow but were inevitably crushed by the falling debris.

THE END.