CHAPTER SIX: HIS TASTES
MERIDA'S POV
I'm staring back at an ordinary girl in the mirror, not that I'm any better. One that Mr. Kenton won't be interested in at a first glance_ one that will bore the hell out of him; one that will ruin his life.
I like her, you know. Girl-in-the-mirror has become my favourite person, for she will not go by her first name.
Kenton hates brunettes and redheads. He also abhors brown and green-eyed people_ he says they're extremely boring. Why? Genetics.
He isn't fond of timid people, it's a quality that both he and I share, he finds them stupid and undecided… well, I wouldn't put it like that, but I couldn't care any less.
And one more thing he hates is clingy people, he finds them_ suffocating.
I leave for London in a few days and I'm not packing anything up. Kenton definitely wouldn't be interested in a woman of my tastes; however, I'm not willing to risk it and end up blowing my cover_ if I still have one.
Ere my exodus, it is essential that I remove the cobwebs in my house, though I shan't be using it for a while in the aftermath of my departure.
Retreating from the mirror in my bathroom, I head to the training room. I miss Dad.
My eye is caught by something rather peculiar; I suddenly feel like tearing it open. It is actually the most brightly-coloured and ugliest item in my house; I wonder who Dad thought he was getting it for, because whoever that person was or is, is definitely not me. I hate bright colours, let alone yellow. How repulsive!
Why am I only noticing this now?
Because you never pay attention to your surroundings
My inner voice wisely responds. That's true_ I never pay much attention to the things around me. Be it buildings, cars, roads, anything. Whatever anything is, I couldn't care any less.
I do give my utmost attention to Homo sapiens though. I never let anything go unnoticed; I study them_ closely or from afar_ just like a predator would its prey, because that's what humans are to me_ my preys.
This punching bag is absolutely ridiculous, why would Dad get me anything like this? Not unless…
It can't be.
Yes it can
No it can't.
Could've someone invaded my privacy? But how? No one knows I'm alive, I think.
I just wish my memory could serve me well and actually bring back the memories of my punching bag. Could I have been blinded by revenge to an extent of forgetting my hatred for yellow? Could I have been so oblivious to my surroundings?
I doubt
Frankly, it sounds like me, but… no.
It's a pity I don't know.
After getting one of the finest blades in my kitchen, I commence stabbing and ripping the punching ball apart; it doesn't take a lot while until I'm done, however the struggle wasn't short-lived. Picking a handful of its remains, I start getting up from where I'd folded my legs.
My eye is instantly caught by a white A4 sheet that is embellished by a very familiar handwriting.
Of course he knew I'd do this.
'Merida, I hate to have left you so soon. I am glad that you found this place. You've settled in by now I think. Take care of Sarah, my little one, she is your aunt and she loves you dearly.
If you decided that mine and your mother's deaths are just water under the bridge, I respect your decision. It is vital to let bygones be bygones at times.
However, if you've decided to avenge us, make sure you don't get caught. Do not underestimate Parker, my dear. That man is lethal. You'll also need to learn to not have any phobias, little one. You aren't weak_ you are my blood, you're a Klein and we're not weak. Phobias are only for the weak.
Be the smart woman I raised you to be. Dad and Mom are very proud of you.
Dad loves you. Remember: Act like a fool to fool the fool that thinks they're fooling you.
You'll be getting more of these. Even dead, I'll be with you, Merida_ every single step of the way.
One more thing: be ahead of them
~Love Dad
Blinking back a hot surge of tears, I get up and clean the mess I've created of the room.
Dad said Sarah loves me. She couldn't have loved me. She despised me. How could Dad not have known that? Dad knew everything; I know one thing: Sarah Klein couldn't have loved me.
I wish I could find a way to tell Dad the truth about his sister. Sometimes I wish I weren't this nostalgic. Pathetic, I know...
"Hello ma'am, how do you do?" a British accented female voice came from the other line.
This is exactly what I don't want. We need to have the same accents for Pete's sake! How the hell am I supposed to rock a Brit accent? Go all 'kitten' on 'kidding'? No.
"Can you mask your accent milady?" I questioned her rather harshly. She's just going to waste my precious time. Dad wouldn't like that.
"Not really." She responded with what sounded more like a 'nohts reeleh' than a 'not really'. See what I mean? I don't need her.
"Well. Tatah then." I hang up.
I'm growing tired of all this. Why can't I just get the suitable candidate?
It's high time I did some linear programming.
I quickly take a pen and paper and commence jotting down all the things in a woman that wouldn't suit his tastes.
1. Brown eyes
2. Blue eyes
3. Red hair
4. Brown hair
He seems to not have a 'thing' for brown. It's quite strange that his fiancé's skin colour is brown. She gorgeous believe me; I'm just a bit curious on about how she tamed him. It's on days like this that I like not being a cat_ I'm immune to things like curiosity.
The list goes on…
5. 'Chubby' women
6. Tall women
7. Timid people
8. Waitresses.
Those are the things he hates most in female humans and those are all the things he will get, save the chubbiness_ I'm not particularly lean, I'm actually a bit chubby, but I'm not exactly chubby, so…
I stop writing and open a folder that I'd requested from one of my oppressed soldiers. It has names of financially unstable women who have numerous debts and expenses bugging them on every single day of their lives. Each one of them has different jobs and different responsibilities, but the all have one thing in common: they could do anything to get their hands on great deal of money.
I have what they need and the most preferred candidate will get one hundred thousand dollars from Santa this Christmas if she behaves well this season.
All she has to do is be who I need her to be in London. That shouldn't be hard at all.
I scan through the pages of this bulky folder until my eyes are caught by one candidate:
Stripper, waitress and humanities student. Daddy has stage two prostate cancer and mommy is in and out of rehabilitation centres so she's of no use. Even better, she's recently received an eviction notice, she'll be homeless soon.
Just what I need. Perfect.
I pick her file out and continue reading it.
I like what I see… she's a brunette; 5''7', puffy cheeks, her name starts with 'M' and most importantly, she's sinking in a sea of debts. Looking at the way things are, she won't be able to get rid of them any time soon. She needs me, just like I need her.
Without any ado, I dial her number and she picks her phone up after exactly four rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mariam. What if I told you I could solve all your problems?" I ask her, straight to the point.
"Then I'd say you're Mother Jesus or Brother Mary" She deadpans
"Hahaha. Very funny. But I'm serious." I'm glad she has a hilarious sense of humour, it's a pity we're going to have to get rid of it very soon.
"Look I don't know who the hell you think I am, but I kindly request that you stop fucking with me. I have enough on my plate already." With that, she hangs up.
Forgive her Father, for she knows not what she does.
I call her again and this time she picks it up at the first ring.
"Look. I. Am. At. Work. And. I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This." She grits out, emphasizing her exasperation.
"You might not want to hang up on me for the second time, Mariam. It won't end well_ for either one of us." I warn her and all I get is silence from the other line. I take this opportunity to table my thoughts out to her. "So tell me, Mariam. How's college. Oh, I remember, you had to drop out because you couldn't pay for your tuition_ the typical sad story. But what about mommy? When is she coming back, huh? Is she coming back? Better yet, does she even know that daddy's dying; did you disclose that piece of info from her?"
That, I know, earned me her attention.
"Give me a second, will you?" she shushes.
After a few seconds she lets me know that she's in a private place now and that I can continue with whatever it is that I have to say.
"Well, from all that I've already told you about you, you can tell that I've-"she cuts me off, "Told or asked?" she mocks.
"You're quite hysterical, I must say, Mariam; however, that won't be getting us anywhere for the time being so I think we should get back to business." I return her crude humour with a bit of a chuckle.
"No shit Sherlock." Once again she defies me.
"I won't warn you again. So, as I was saying_ I've done my home-work and I know quite a lot about you, but I shan't go into details. What I'll stress on though, is your dire need for dollars. I know you need money for your tuition, lifestyle, your dad's surgery and a lot more things, and I can help you." I tell her and await her response.
"What do you want from me in return?" she responded_ with a question.
"Simple. I need you to be a waitress with me in London. We'll be two timid and shy waitresses. I need us to get someone's attention, as discreetly as possible. Does that sound good to you?" I inquire
"How do you know I won't go behind your back?"
"Because I have you by the balls, Mariam. I'm a very dangerous, yet generous woman. All you need to do is be like me and not tell a single soul about our deal. As soon as you agree to my offer, I'll deposit twenty-five thousand dollars into your account and you'll get an additional seventy-five thousand dollars once our mission is accomplished." I filled her in.
"What's our 'mission' exactly?" she curiously questions
"Your mission is being like me until I do what I need to do. One more thing: you aren't allowed to go by your first name. We'll both be using our last names. More like last pseudo names. Do we have ourselves a deal, Mariam?"
She won't say no, I know.
"Yes Mysterio, we have ourselves a deal." I knew she'd say this.
"One more thing, you need to get rid of your hilarious sense of humour when we get to London, it might get you in trouble with me." I really needed to get that off my chest."
She decides to ignore my threat, "Okay. What's next?"
"You'll get the notification very soon and I'll text you the details. Ciao."