"You were too harsh. He really works hard, even though he makes a fool of himself along the way," Mars criticised. Jason shrugged.
"I was told to get him out of the house. Well, I got him out of the house. It was faster than I planned, though. He gets offended very quickly. I thought we would have a long, hard fight."
Bridget stared silently at the two. Mars sighed. "Bridget, make his surprise as lavish as possible so he forgets what happened this morning."
"Yes sir."
After storming out of the house, I jumped on my motorcycle and went for a ride. The country is a great place to take a ride. Seeing the fields, fresh air, and small houses was refreshing after the large city.
I passed many cows and sheep grazing, with farmers chatting on the other side of the fence. No matter where I live in the future, Scotland will remain in my heart.
I stopped for a break at a local bar. Secretly, I knew my dad purposely chased me out of the house, but I still couldn't help myself. Did he have to be so mean about it?
I sat at the counter, holding a beverage. I listened absently to a bunch of bikers that had just come in.
"Come on, Brett. I'm telling you, it really happened to me," a girl complained.
"It's all in your head, Lea. They say people imagine things when you have sleep paralysis." A deep voice spoke dismissively. Most likely, Brett.
"No, it wasn't sleep paralysis. I could move. I'm telling you, there was something in my room last night."
"Could it have been an intruder?" another voice asked.
"I wish it was, Ken. But this thing had wings!" Lea exclaimed.
I, who barely paid attention, spit out a mouthful of whiskey.
What Lea witnessed was probably a spirit, and who better to take care of spirits than myself? I rubbed my face clean and approached the group, all business.
"Good morning, I couldn't help but overhear. My name is Nathan McNeill." I offered my business card to the apprehensive threesome. I'm honest, I promise. "Here's my card. You sound like you need help. My expertise is just what you need."
Shocked, Lea snatched my card and ripped it. "I'm not insane!" she yelled. What a (censor)! I shook my head. "I'm not a psychiatrist. Look, read my card." I again held out my business card.
Brett, a giant man full of tattoos, glared at me from behind Lea, and a lean man, Ken, stood beside her as she read my card. "Are you serious? This is your actual job?" she asked, stunned.
"You betcha," I confirmed.
"What? What is it, Lea?" Brett demanded. She waved the card in the air. "It says he's a paranormal investigator. Hey, does this actually pay for money? I heard most were frauds. You're not a fraud, are you?"
"No. And it says Otherworld Investigator. Not a Paranormal Investigator," I corrected her.
"Huh? Is there a difference?" You bet there is!
"Anyway, I can help. Just call or text me, and I'll come straight away."
"What's your price?" Ken demanded. I see he's the smart one. I smiled. "Depends on what I'll be dealing with. Don't worry, I never demand something my clients can't pay for," I fibbed. Yeah, so what?
Lea glanced at the card before glancing at me. "Well…"
"Come on Lea. Don't pay hundreds of pounds for something imaginary. And this guy looks fishy." So says the big guy with tattoos.
"But what if he could help me? I have to try," she hesitated. I got impatient and gave her one of my clients' phone numbers.
"This is a previous client of mine. Ask him if I'm legit or not. Now I have to leave. Keep my business card and call me when you change your mind. Good day to you all." I almost bowed out of habit. Instead, I smiled and left the bar.