The VC of Matisse University de Paris was an old man. Vincent and nobody that he knew could ever confidently say that they knew his real name. Everybody referred to him as Vice Chancellor Mattise, and if Vincent did not know any better, he might have thought for certain that even his son, Henri, did not know the name of his father. That would have been a terribly comedic thing if it were really true, Vincent thought within himself, having once again one of those inner monologues that he usually had as he was held on both arms to the office of the VC by two security guards.He nearly let out a chuckle as he got thrown into the office immediately, with the view of the old VC staring at him with a face full of scorn; his son just standing beside him, quiet, his lips and parts of his face still swollen.Vice Chancellor Mattise was said to be in his fifties, but his head was already so crowded with white hair, his face, always with a frown reeking of wrinkles, had people guessing that he

On a windy evening the next day around the school premises, another luxurious car came parking just close to the school's gate. A Rolls Royce. It brought forth the attention of students who all crowded around it with their eyes all lit up in awe of its beauty.The door was flung open and a bald man with pitch black glasses, well framed cheekbones and jaw line and a muscular build, stepped outside of it wearing a white suit.He looked around, as if selecting for a student. His demeanor was nothing short of intimidating, but this did not stop the students from admiring from the distance that they were perched on."Hey you," he called out, pointing at one of the students, a tall lanky boy with glasses and a bulb haircut. The boy walked foreward although his eyes were filled with uncertainty."Take me to the Vice Chancellor of this school," the man demanded, his voice was hoarse and as intimidating as his looks were."Y-yes." The boy replied, his tone shaking.In a few minutes there were

Monsieur Dubois stood waiting with a scowl on his face in front of Vincent's apartment waiting for him. He finally saw him with a look of happiness on his face. His eyes possessed what Monsieur Dubois would casually call a fool's glimmer.Today was the day the rent was supposed to be due, why on earth did he look so happy? Monsieur Dubois asked, his hand grasping hard to the walking stick that he held, shaking with tremendous annoyance at the young fool's behavior, prancing into the hall way like he owned the place.Once he got closer, Monsieur Dubois fired off with his question. "Where is my money?" It caught Vincent off guard, but in no time, he returned the scowling look on Monsieur Dubois with a smile.His behavior was shocking, but not any more than it was annoying and provoking to the man's anger. But before he could say any other word, Vincent was with a wad of cash that Monsieur Dubois' eyes were not fast enough to see from where it was that he pulled the money."Take," Vince

The forced invitation was a problem as Vincent had thought it to be, but there was another equal issue that he had to face if he really was going to go to the party. On the day before the party, he was standing in front of a mirror again when he found out this one thing, and even felt gobsmacked and stupid that he had never thought of it before: he had absolutely no clothes to wear to a party. The clothes he has bought on the day he was supposed to be on a date with Rory were worn out and spoilt from the fight he got into with Henri and the subsequent events that happened."I have to get myself new clothes," he finally said to himself as he looked on his reflection. With that thought he ran across the house, grabbed a bag and his trustee bicycle, and off he went. There were several boutiques in Paris that were well said to be of impeccable quality, but one, only one of them did he fancy in entering. The large boutique de Gentry. It was the most beautiful according to him, and the onl

He arrived home that day with all the goods he had bought. His hands full, his pockets empty, and his heart full of shame, thinking about what had happened and how he could have been so stupid and careless.He remembered the face he saw on Marie as the Cashier told her everything. She was not just disappointed, she was also embarrassed. He made way to his room and crashed on the bed like a meteorite crashing into the depths of an ocean. He could feel the stress at that point in time dissipating out of his body. He had sweat all getting drenched out of him and being soaked by the bed sheet.One move of his head to the side and he saw the so-called premium card lying just right next to him. His head spun around as he thought about the problem he had gotten into just for forgetting itHe got up, picked it up, stood up from the bed, grabbed his bag and shoved it into one of its many pockets. "That would do it,” he said to himself. "I would never let this out of my sight again." He had l