I stared at the brown envelope on the table, my heart
about to drum out of my chest.
Dad! I wanted to yell at him. I missed my important
accounting lecture because of this?
Dad had left a message for me to come home as soon as
possible. It was an emergency. I'd thought he had an accident or something, so I was rushing to get here. I didn't know which was my left or right foot as I stumbled and fell to try to reach home in time.
But what did I get when I got here? A note on the table,
beside the brown envelope that contained that letter.
What was he thinking? At the rate I was going, I
wouldn't even pass the first year of university if Dad kept
calling me out to do errands for him like this.
Use the post office for once, Dad. Surely he could just
drop this letter off at the post office and be done with it.
Why use me?
Then again, why did I bother to ask this silly question?
It was because I wasn't good at anything else except for errands like this. I wasn't beautiful, so no one really took a
second look at me, unlike my sister Nelly, who was the
star of her law school. In fact, I could blend in with the
furniture very well. Sometimes, Dad and Nelly couldn't
even tell the difference between me and the couch.
Despite all these negative comments about my
appearance, though, I'd never been bothered by this. Brown hair with a dust of freckles on my nose and green catlike eyes, I considered myself to be quite cute.
But back to Dad, though. I wondered where he was right
then. I'd definitely give him an earful when I saw him.
I went to search the house. It was empty, no one inside,
not Dad or Nelly.
Where had they gone? At this hour, Dad should have
been in his office, and Nelly should have been home doing
the cooking. She didn't have class in the afternoon, unlike
first years whose schedules were chock full of lectures.
I picked the letter up in my hand, dismissing Dad's
absence for now. I examined the address. Upper East Side, Manhattan. It didn't look familiar to me.
Maybe I should put a few stamps on it and slot it in the
postbox. That'd save me time. I recalled some stamps
stashed away in my backpack somewhere. But Dad did say to deliver this letter by hand. And there was also the case of the licorice. It was tempting me next to the envelope.
"Humph!" I huffed to myself. Who does he think he is,
bribing me with candy? It's not like I'm five years old
anymore. I can live without candy. Especially licorice.I was now walking along the streets of lington Hill,
chewing the licorice. How could I resist a bribe such as this licorice Dad bought for me? He knew it was my one weakness and he used it to his full advantage. I was surprised my teeth weren't covered with holes yet, what with the amounts of sweets I ate. But then again, my oral hygiene skills were spectacular.
After the initial shock, I took the bus and walked to
deliver this letter. I was sure whatever contents were in the envelope, it must be something important. Maybe Dad
doesn't trust the post because it might go missing. A sense of pride filled my chest.
"All right, Sophy. Let's deliver this letter for Dad and
make him proud."
Cory Mansion, as stated on the address, was part of a
well-established suburb in Upper East Side, Manhattan. If it weren't for the naked Adonis statue sitting in front of the huge fountain with a loincloth covering his private part, I was sure I'd have missed it altogether.
Adonis really is beautiful, even though he's made out of
white marble. But imagine seeing a real life man that looks like Adonis. He'd be the god of all passion, a person that would totally captivate my heart.
"Ahh," I sighed. "So beautiful."
"What business do you have here?"
What? Who? Where? Did someone just speak?
I looked up and saw a camera pointed in my direction.
Oh, the speaker. I stared at the speaker and said, "I'm
sorry. I was just admiring the statue."
"Any other business?
Swallowing another piece of licorice, I replied, "I'm
looking for Cory Mansion. Could you please tell me where it is?"
"This is Cory Mansion."
"Cor⌠Cory Mansion!" I almost choked on the licorice.
I stared at the immaculate garden with linage of green trees on either side, the fountain housing Adonis.
Wow! This mansion must belong to a millionaire.
And then a fleeting thought rushed through my head.
What business does Dad have with the resident of this
multimillion-dollar mansion?
"What business do you have with us?"
I swallowed the last remaining licorice and composed
myself. "I'm here to deliver a letter on behalf of my Dad, Mr. Rodriguez. It's to be handed to a Mr. Alejandro. May I see him?"
A few minutes passed by before the voice spoke again.
"Come in. The gate will open in three seconds. Then walk
along the white brick footpath and knock on the door threet imes. The front door will open."
What's this? White brick road and knock on the front
door three times? What am I, Dorothy from The Wizard of
Oz? I have a great sense of direction, thank you very much. I never get lost. But I did what the gate keeper told me to do. I knocked on the door three times. Then I stood back while the door took its time to reveal the inside of the property.
"Wow, what a waste of space," I muttered when I
stepped inside. The mansion itself was a huge block of ancient buildings that stood right at the center of the property. From outside, it looked beautiful, but on the inside, it was majestic. The whole foyer was the size of our house alone.
Except there was hardly any furniture around, unlike our
house. I was a hoarder, so I always managed to get some
secondhand books or some sort of junk to decorate our
home. But this place was just adorned with a few couches and an armchair. A beautiful chandelier dropped down from the ceiling, and a skylight provided light in the foyer. I walked toward the lone armchair, almost not noticing a couple of buff-looking men who stood to the side, staring at me through black sunglasses. They almost gave me a fright, standing there like statues. They had their arms behind their backs, looking quite intimidating.
"Hi," I managed.
The men didn't respond, but just glared back at me. I sat
in the chair uncomfortably, wondering what to do. Then
something caught my eyes. I advanced toward them and saw they were guns. They looked like the real ones from OO7, the James Bond movie. I wonder if I can touch it.
Too late. Before anyone saw me, I held one in my hand.
They're heavy andâŚcold.
I turned the gun around and put my finger near the
trigger. They did feel nice to the touch. Maybe I should have become a policewoman and caught all the bad guys instead of working my butt off for an accounting degree. Using this gun, I could have the ultimate power to tame anyone into submission. My evil side lurked, and I felt like Austin Powers, the bad one of course.
"They aren't real, are they?" I asked one of the men in
black, out of curiosity.
"They're real," came his clipped reply.
A shiver ran down my spine. Okay. I swallowed and felt
my heart racing a bit. I put the gun back in its resting place and went back to sit in my seat like an obedient child. Where have I landed? Surely this was even weirder than Oz. I only hoped those beautiful guns were used for
decoration instead of actually killing people.
I knew I should have listened to my instincts and posted
the letter instead. But I couldn't help being tempted by that licorice. Now my only hope was to have Mr. Alejandro appear fast so I could give him the letter and run.
Suddenly, two more men walked past me. One came to
stand right in front of me and stared down.
"You're the one with the letter?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied promptly.
"Come this way. Boss is ready to see you."
"Boss? Is he Mr. Alejandro?"
Me and my big mouth. It just wouldn't stop yapping
when I was nervous. Then again, I was actually quite
excited. I was eager to find out who the millionaire owner of this estate was. Maybe some old man in his sixties.
I was led to another stylish room with more guns out on
display.
Is this a gun museum?
One of the men in the black suits walked in first. Then
some moments later, I was urged to enter the room.
I walked in bravely, proud that I'd almost completed my
task for Dad. As soon as I stepped inside, a man sitting behind the desk caught my attention. And almost knocked the air out of my lungs. The man was almost an exact replica of Adonis statue outside. My heart pounded and I smiled. But he didn't smile back. It didn't matter, though. I was here to see Mr. Alejandro anyway, not this young man who barely passed for twenty-five.
"I'm here to see Mr. Alejandro," I said before he could say
anything. He still didn't respond, but continued to gaze at me with his midnight eyes. His facial expression twisted as if he'd sucked on a lemon.
"Give me that letter," Adonis finally spoke.
"I'm sorry, but I can only give this to Mr. Alejandro," I
said.
"Give me that letter," he repeated, this time more
threatening.
I held the letter against my chest as if it were my
lifeline. "But Dad saidâ"
"Give boss the letter." One of the men in black trudged
forward and snapped at me.
"No!" I snapped back. "Dad said to hand this letter only
to Mr. Alejandro." I stubbornly stood my ground.
I've no idea why I did that. It wasn't like I was going to
win a battle with these men anyway, but still, I wanted to
make Dad proud.
"I am Alejandro Ace," Adonis bit back from behind
his desk. I almost swallowed my own tongue. Alejandro Ace was this young man whom I had admired. What does Dadhave to do with this young man?
I gave Alejandro the letter and smiled up at him again.
"Why didn't you say so in the first place? We could have
avoided this whole confusion."
He gave me a spiteful look and read the letter.
I didn't know what to do with myself. He was busy
reading. It wasn't like I could talk to him when his eyes were skimming across the page, his lips pulled tight. I
busied myself with the display of more guns on the wall
cabinet.
Gee, I seriously think this place is a gun museum.
Slap!
The sound of a fist meeting a table alerted me, and I
shifted my attention to Adonis. His eyes were burning fire.
What's gotten him all fired up? Could it beâ
"You're very brave." Alejandro still held my gaze, and
then he started rubbing his lips.
"Well, I am brave," I told him, eyes transfixed on those
lips.
I was the one who had to carry a beehive filled with
bees when I was only twelve years old. No one in my class could do that. They were scared they would get stung. I got stung too, but I was named the bravest girl in my class. Plus, I could ride a unicycle. Even though it was only for two minutes, I still considered that brave.
"Tsk!" He snarled at me and removed his fingers from
those lips. That kind of woke me up, too. "Are you brave or
stupid?"
Now wait a minute here. Was he trying to hit my
sensitive spot? No amount of godlike beauty could get me to look at him in the same gentle way as that Adonis statue if he was going to start tossing negative comments like this.
"Excuse me?" I stated, chest thrust forward to show I
wasn't intimidated by him. "I am brave, and I'm clearly not
stupid."
"Then tell me."
His voice suddenly sent a shocking tremble to my heart.
What's this? Why is my heart beating so madly? Why does it seem I've heard that voice somewhere before?
"If you're not stupid, then why have you entered a
Biker den all alone?"
Upon hearing that, all I could do was stupidly stammer
back in disbelief, "Bi-bi-biker den?"
* * * *