"The original bad boy isn't dependable in the time of need."

10| Suspicious Business

As much I try to forget about him, my thoughts still hover back to Arsen.

The police took him away that night and the court gave his custody to his aunt and uncle. Not even a week with his new guardians, and his aunt divorced his old uncle. News broke thereafter that Arsen's uncle was a drunkard and stayed home unemployed the entire time, surviving off food stamps and unemployment checks. Observing my ex-best friend, he probably fell into the wrong crowd during that time.

He never allowed me to explain my side of the story.

Pushing aside such meaning thoughts, I run up the front steps of the public library and enter disturbed. The stupid rain soaked most of my hair and it's going to turn into a frizzy mess soon.

The struggle.

Sighing, I hop in front of a computer and log in using my library card code and password. This location seems like the only place I can get full privacy. I need to locate the whereabouts of that Skylar woman. Her lover or whatever left me an important message to deliver. Fulfilling someone's last wish is crucial in order to avoid ghosts haunting me.

I check through many social media sites and find thousands of people under the name Skylar Johnson.

Now what?

I wish I had contacts with Tom Cruise to help me out with this mission impossible.

"Val?"

Someone plops down in the seat next to mine. I turn in surprise at the familiar face, but today wearing a lip ring.

"Leo?"

"The one and only," he winks. I avoid meeting his eyes, looking back to my screen and closing the tabs quickly, not caring if I forgot to log out. He's one of them. And I didn't like people who killed someone right in front of my very own eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I can ask you the same thing," I reply.

"Go ahead, ask."

He can't be serious. I sneak a glance at his computer screen and am bummed to find it blank. He hasn't logged in, yet.

"I don't really care why you're here," I shrug, packing my things.

"I can't say the same," he responds slightly serious. "You were looking up someone named Skylar Johnson." Dang it, he saw the name before the tabs shut completely. And people say nobody can beat the speed of light. This guy's eyes can! "Why?"

Because the man you beat up till death asked me to.

I might encounter a similar situation if I acknowledge the truth.

"I--er . . . You know . . . I just clicked on a random profile--wait, do you know her?" Answering back with a question may help me rescue, and maybe aid me in finding a clue. As hoped for, Leo's face hardens and he breaks the gaze.

"I knew some waitress by that name. Someone said she died last year. Whatever."

No guilt or remorse crosses his face.

Instead, Leo logs into the computer and from the corner of my eye, I see him open a page about weird plants. Did this ruthless and heartless member of Arsen squad fancy biology?

How . . . shocking.

He isn't expecting to pass his senior year by skipping school and missing classes regularly, is he?

Nevertheless, I don't dare resuming the conversation and process his words. According to Leo, Skylar's a dead waitress. Her lover naturally wouldn't have asked me to pass on a message to a grave, so the part about her death is a lie. Unless the man has necrophilia . . .

I should stop overthinking.

I gather my hair in a ponytail and leave the library in a hurry. NYC has plenty of clubs, taverns, restaurants etc. to hold waiter jobs. Narrowing down to where Skylar works will be a hassle. Maybe I could try my luck with Arsen. If he loses his temper and sputters any clue about Skylar, it'll reduce time wastage.

I call my dad on the way to the diner he bought. Danie can't make it due to a Key Club meeting and Isa has Band practice. Out of us three, I'm the least busy one with school activities (okay maybe not at all busy because I don't participate in anything), therefore I ended up with the responsibility of decorating the place solo. Thankfully, I dropped all the stuff we bought at the diner prior to heading to the library.

"Hello?" I hear Mom's voice.

Oh wrong person alert.

"Hey Mom. Where's dad?"

"Is anything wrong?" she asks impatiently. Well, you're answering dad's phone, so something's wrong on the other end. "Your dad's busy with some food critic's order. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just called . . . to--erm . . . Can he cook his special fried chicken recipe for me for dinner?" That's worth a shot since I'm helping him decorate his diner. Although that's not why I called. I wanted to ask whether or not it's okay for me to turn on the security cameras of the diner. Just in case.

Mom sighs quite loudly.

"No."

"Please?"

"Ask me again and I'll make you a tofu salad," she warns.

"Never mind," I reply quickly. "I'll drop by around seven for dinner, if I finish my homework by then."

Because she's in a rush, she says an okay and hangs up quickly.

Glad she cares about what I'm doing.

I'll just ask dad another time.

Strolling down the crowded street at four-thirty in the afternoon, I land at the diner in record time. Quickly opening the lock, I enter and latch the handle secure again. No one can enter in again. Right in my line of vision, I see the broken window from last time back to a repaired condition. I recall texting dad I found a broken window and he said he'd get it fixed.

"Let's hope it doesn't break again," I mumble, under my breath.

I spend the next hour brooming and cleaning up. If there's some fairy in dire need of dust, this diner could be of service. My friends ditched me at the wrong time. I start removing some of the historical paintings and add portraits least to most contemporary--Marilyn Monroe, John Lennon, One Direction, etc.

By the time I surrender to tireness, a part of me is surprised to find no one bothering me. Arsen scared me for no reason!

What a jerk!

Merrily, I leave the diner without any interruptions or interjections.

¤》¤《¤

The new few days, my friends and I peacefully work in the diner, fixing it to a great shape. Dad even offers to give us volunteer hours for our service which we take up since we need those hours to graduate. He doesn't let me turn on the cameras just yet since they need an upgrade and won't record a thing.

At school, I don't understand the deal with Arsen's group. Sometimes, they show up to school and other times they don't, but they always managed to skip the Gym class.

My partner's avoidance resulted in me partnering with one of the instructors' himself.

The meanest of all.

Mr. Dexter.

"You're squeezing the life out of me!" I complain.

"It'll prepare you better if you ever encounter such a situation in the real world," he replies, holding me tight. In movies, breaking free of a bear hug from behind always seemed like a tough task to me.

Believe it or not, it's impossible in real life!

I slam my foot down on his . . . Well, actually, I miss.

He casually observes other people.

I hate well-built people who attack me.

The next approach is trying to melt down in his rock hard arms, which obviously doesn't work. Because one, I'm not a slimy, slippery fish; two, his grip keeps me locked in a tight chamber as if I'm a prisoner. A fragile prisoner who can't break free.

I sound so pathetic.

Mr. Dexter continues hugging me from behind as if he isn't leaving me anytime soon.

Out of frustration, I slam my head back into his face and earn a loud groan. He releases me, immediately, clutching his nose tightly. I did not just hurt my self-defense instructor! From the murderous glowering, it's not hard to comprehend disapproval. The other instructor in supervision, Ms. Johnson, runs to his aid and asks me what happened.

"I defended myself with the wrong technique," I explain.

"She headbutted me . . . with the back of her head," Mr. Dexter adds. He removes his hands from his sharp nose and I breathe in relief at no signs of blood. "It certainly worked better than the other techniques." Am I seeing things? The guy almost seems impressed.

"But I didn't follow what you guys showed as the routes of escaping," I mumble.

They roll their eyes.

Ms. Johnson smiles before telling me, "You don't always follow the routes a GPS shows you. As long as you're on the right track, you'll reach home safely. Just like you found your safety by banging the back of your head against your instructor's nose."

"Sorry about that," I say to him.

"Don't worry about it," he replies.

I'm a little taken aback that this mean guy doesn't jump at my neck. Normally, he spends the entire period shouting and criticizing. We continue working till dismissal time.

Today, due to my friend's priorities with after-school activities, I head alone to the diner.

Just as I open the door and lock it behind me, I stumble back a step with my eyes wide at the sight of four guys perched on the shiny tables. Arsen and his friends sit on top of a table, drinking Coca Cola right from the cans. My back remains glued against the door and the pounding of my heart can be heard from the moon. I'm highly tempted to bolt out of this place.

What are these guys doing here?

"I told you, I saw Val that day coming out of this place," Leo tells his friends. My eyes flicker to Arsen who seems nonchalant. "She's been here all week with her friends."

So he's been stalking us?

And I thought they were leaving me and my diner alone.

"What are you doing here, Cruz?" Arsen asks me, playing dumb. Of course, I'm aware he knows the reason why I'm here. The only issue is that he won't let his friends know about it.

"My father owns the place." I muster up some courage.

Leo jumps off the table and makes his way over to me.

"And that makes a difference to us because . . . ?" he prompts.

Fear overtakes my body and I quickly turn and unlatch the lock. Unluckily, Leo grabs me from behind to prevent me from running away. I elbow and try to step on his foot, but he doesn't let me.

Fight or flight?

"Leo, stop--" someone says behind.

I don't give anyone a chance before slamming my head back into Leo's face as hard as possible. Thankfully, he steps away, clutching his nose and lets out a groan from the pain. His friends freeze in their spots, their eyes wandering between me and Leo. No one expects me to fight back, I guess.

Thank you, self defense classes.

"Don't touch me," I warn Leo. My hands fumble around my jean pockets and I pull out a bottle of pepper spray. Mom and dad always make me carry it with me and now I know why. Leo's friends check out his bloody nose and cringe. That's what he deserves!

"Put that away, Cruz," Arsen says and I shake my head defiantly. "And don't ever come here again. This is our place and I suggest you and your family leave it before they get into any messes."

What kind of messes?

"Messes?" Leo growls. "I'll ruin your entire family, if you don't leave." The guys calm him down. "Listen there, Cruz, we finally found this diner to start our business and then, you intruded."

Should I call 911?

What kind of business did he mean?

Arsen's death glare assures me I'm in deep trouble right now.

I see him gesture with his eyes towards the door, gesturing me to leave.

I step out of the doorway and bolt for my life. I must inform dad of this immediately. Whether these are empty threats or not, I cannot say. They should stop before things fall out of hand.

Arriving at my parents' restaurant breathless, I search for them. One of the waiters tells me everyone's busy impressing the food critic, so they can't see me now. Sighing, I sit on one of the tables outside the restaurant. For those who wanted to eat in polluted air, there were a few tables set outside.

I tap my fingers on the table while waiting.

Out of a nowhere, a familiar woman sits down across the chair from mine.

My eyebrows furrow.

"Ms. Johnson?"

My self defense instructor?

¤》¤《¤

Dedicated to tanisakarim for supporting me so much. Thanks a lot for investing your time in what I write!

For those readers not aware of Food Stamps and Unemployment payments: Food stamps are basically government giving subsidies to low or no-income families to buy food (only those who quality for it). Unemployment benefits are given to unemployed people. (In NY, people get about $300 a week for the benefits which is considerably low, seeing the high cost of living in New York).

Filler chapter, I know.

Thoughts?

Self defense lessons paid off didn't they?

What will the guys do now since they found out the property they have for business is taken?

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