Visit | A SIX

When I'd informed both Ashton and Liam about Garren trying to 'recruit' me, they were extremely nervous. Specifically the part about how Garren was not so thrilled about me turning him down.

"Saying no like that might not have been such a good idea,” Liam had said. "What if he's petty and starts picking on you for it?"

"What? No way." I shook my head. Until I gave it more thought and considered his childish irrationality. I turned to Ashton for a second opinion. "... Could he?"

She shrugged her shoulders, apprehensive. "The bloke's filthy rich and a knobhead, it's possible."

"Then what was I supposed to do? Say yes?"

The two exchanged glances with no words. I envied the deeper rooted 'friendship' they shared. The pair had known one another since nursery. They had this link only time could build and I couldn't intercept it.

"No, Steves. You were honest and said how you felt. That wasn't wrong,” Liam assured me.

"If those cunts try anything, I'll send them to the emergency room alright? We've got you,” Ashton proclaimed and we pulled into a group hug.

I was still fearful of the next day but when it came, nothing problematic happened. Well, if you left aside Garren staring at me intensely each time I crossed his path which was often, thanks to joining the club. Other than that, he didn't even try to approach me all week but the looks were visibly bugging Amina more than me and when she asked what the deal was, I'd shrug.

I perceived that she wasn't a fan of The Aces and I didn't want to bother her with their antics. To me, Garren was a child throwing a fit because he didn't get what he wanted for once. I was gladly prepared to wait for him to move on and realise life was not a freaking board game. His words still lingered in my mind, however and so did Will's. I also for some reason felt like I was receiving unfriendly stares at times in the corridors.

Then there was Archie, who would use every chance Ashton wasn't around to hassle me about the incident in front of the school gates. Since so many students were there to witness the 'abduction' by the Aces, he caught wind of it and was determined to get the story.

The only good thing out of the days was the short but worthwhile chats with Shaun after class. I'd learned he played on the rugby team, he had two dogs; a Golden retriever and a chocolate Labrador and he was a huge fan of classic books like me. I'd already gathered this from snooping around his social media prior but it was lovely to hear it from his lips, too.

I grew ecstatic when the weekend was less than twenty four hours in duration and I could get away from everything else that was stressful.

On Friday morning, I got called in to the headmaster's office first thing. Reluctantly, I stepped in and was greeted by that same gentle smile as the first time. I took into account the new lamp on her desk.

"Stevie, lovely to see you again. I just wanted to speak to you about your little trip on Saturday to visit your parents."

I frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"That's not important, dear,” she replied. "I'm completely fine with it, so long as I'm assured you're not planning to tell them anything about our deal."

"You mean your threats and everything?"

"A young woman shouldn’t speak so distastefully. Let’s refer to it as strongly influenced."

I held back an eye roll. "No, miss. I'm not planning to tell them anything."

"You promise?"

I gave a tight lipped smile. "Yes, I promise."

"Alright, you may go."

Right before I aimed to turn, I changed my mind and spoke up. "Actually, there's one thing I wanted to ask."

Headmaster Shepherd lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"

My eyes absentmindedly glanced to the lamp. "I know you said that you needed me in Coeus because you don't want to take chances but why wasn't I threatened— 'influenced' to join last year?"

Headmaster Shepherd studied me and I grew antsy under her grim gaze. She contorted her lips and linked her fingers. "My, so curious lately... I see those Agatha Christie books you've been checking out is kindling the detective side of you huh?" She pulled off her reading glasses and retrieved a handkerchief from her breast pocket, giving them a quick polish. "Alright, I'll play along. The reason I didn't influence you last year Stevie was because there wasn't a threat then."

My brows drew together. "A threat?"

"Things are changing, dear. People grow more and more desperate to win. Gain recognition of their power to imprint in the eyes of society that they are superior,” she said.

"Really? That's shocking."

She dismissed my sarcastic comment and continued. "One miscreant has made a gamble to beat me and he's had tricks up his sleeves in the past, I won't let him have any openings so I need to pull out my aces."

I flinched at that part. I couldn't tell if it was just coincidental wording or she knew about Garren trying to get me as one of his puppets.

"I don't really understand what all that meant," I answered. "It was a bit cryptic."

"Well of course it was. If you're going to play detective, young lady, then be prepared to crack riddles. That's the fun in them."

Seeing that was all I was going to get out of the nutter, I clicked to my heels and exited the office. When school had ceased, I couldn't have been happier to get ready to pack for the weekend.

I'd spend it in the loving comfort of home and my family. Away from the academy, away from the crazy headmaster and away from The Aces.

**

My neighbourhood's block hadn't changed a single bit since I'd last visited. Granted, it was only three weeks ago but it felt significantly longer.

I found it amazing how the place was only a couple of miles from the academy's area but the ambiance was vastly different. In the upper class district, it was filled with extravagantly elegant houses and estates or mansions surrounded by bright green glass planes, artistic gardens with luxury cars shredding the roads by perfectly cemented pavements.

In my densely populated neighbourhood, the buildings consisted of dull, grey flats or bricked houses cramped together and there were more weeds than any flowers that grew on the soil. The closest thing to artistic decor around was the graffiti on lamp posts, walls or bus shelters. The pavements had more than a few cracks on every street and the fanciest car I'd ever seen on the sloped roads was a party limousine owned by a local night club.

It may not have been much in class but it was something.

I pushed the humble door of Barkley's and heard the gentle jingle of the bell followed by flour hitting my nose. I'm engulfed by warm hugs and bright smiles from my parents, along with the staff members who were just as close as family to me. It was an entertaining sight to see my mother act overly surprised by my visit in front of grandma too.

Who in fact, had on the closest thing to a welcoming visage she could muster as she approached me. "Hello, Stevie,” she spoke in that usual flat tone that one could never tell if it was patronising or disinterest. "Still no fetus in your womb, I take it?"

"No, gran."

Grandma May elicited a sigh, "How long do you intend to keep me waiting for grandkids? I won't live forever, you know."

"That's a relief," I heard my mother mutter under my breath.

"Do you at least have a suitor in mind yet?" Grandma May inquired.

"Ma, leave her be," said my dad. "She's only sixteen." He kissed my temple and disappeared to the back of the counter.

Mum and nan waited a good ten seconds, then quickly shuffled closer. "Now, for real— is there actually a boy in mind?" Mum whispered.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "He's not a suitor or anything..."

My mother squealed. "I knew it! I knew it! Is it that one called Liam you mentioned?"

"What? No. Gross."

"Then who? Spit it out!" Grandma May demanded.

Right as I'm about to speak, the jingle of the door seizes our attention and a potbellied man came into the store. Cheeks rosy red as always. "Well look what the cat dragged in!" He boomed.

"Right back at you, Foster." I smirked.

"Come 'ere you wee toots." He invited me into his famous hugs and I gladly accepted it. A man who'd been my family's regular customer since I was a toddler and in all the years he hardly changed a bit.

He still wore his outlandish fur coats over a vest, his salt and pepper hair mussed back to reveal the freckles that dotted his forehead and the thinnest whiskers of a mustache.

"It’s rare to see you on weekends,” I recalled the cause being due to the exhaustion from his business trips.

"Aye, but I had to when your mother said you'd be comin' by," he stated.

Grandma's thin brows knitted together at that. "Oh, did she?" She peered at my currently nervous mother. "I'd been told this was a short notice appearance."

"No, I've known since Tuesday." Foster went on. "Anne contacted me to—"

"Okay! Let's hold the chit chatter!" Mum hurriedly interjected, desperate to get the heated gaze from grandma off her back. "Foster, why don't you take a seat and we'll prepare your usual, mm?"

"That'd be grand." grinned Foster. "Cheers, Anne."

He proceeded to a table as my mother neatened the seating and made small talk, casting glances to Grandma May in fear of being watched. My nan peered at me. "Does she really think she ever had me fooled?"

I shrugged and nan shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her taught lips which was always a heartwarming sight to catch.

"Stevie!" I heard my dad holler. "Billie's back's acting up again. Mind giving us a hand?"

"Coming!" I called.

I sashayed along the sets of tables, waving at one or two other regulars and hopped over the counter. I spruced my hair back into a tightly folded bun and propped on an apron from where I knew they'd always still be kept. It felt good to be back.

In the midst of me wiping down the counter, Edna and Greg were chatting indiscreetly as they stared outside the store window. I paid it no mind since it wasn't a busy hour and I was accustomed to them being the gossipy type. Not to mention, eldest employees out of the group, until I saw other workers joining them. Interest piqued, I approached. "What's going on?"

"There's some big fancy car parked down by the street,” said John.

"It's a Benz, AMG. Looks customised,” Phil derived. He was the local mechanic when he wasn't helping mop the floors.

"Maybe it's a celebrity," said Edna. "Like, Jamie Oliver! Doing one of his reality tv shows where he cooks for local residents, he still does those right?"

"No way,” Greg disagreed. "I bet ya it's some mob boss. Gangs have been lurking around lately bringing all sorts of troubles. Quickest way to make any easy quid these days, I tell ya."

"Well I'm not taking any chances of looking like a stiff on TV," replied Edna. "I'm away to go freshen up." She hurried off to the back.

"With what? Gonna throw flour on your face?" quipped John.

He was given a distinct hand gesture in response. "Pretend you didn't see that, Stevie,” he said.

"The driver's taking bloody ages to come out." frowned John, eyes squinting. "Hang on, I think it's two people in there."

I squeezed myself through their towering builds for a better look and as I'd heard, it was most definitely a luxury vehicle that was completely out of place on our street.

"Oh, they're coming out!" gasped Phil.

"STALL THEM!" shouted Edna. "I have to be the first one to meet Jamie!"

We all rolled our eyes then switched them back to focusing on the foot stepping out of the open passenger door. Well damn, even his shoes were top notch. I knew there was no way thugs around these parts dressed with such finesse and I was close to believing old, kooky Edna was bang on about it being a celebrity. Then when his face came into view, I blanched.

A curse spat out of my mouth before I could stop it, causing heads to turn to me.

"Alright, who on earth is using language like that?!" boomed my father who had coincidentally appeared at the top of the stairs. "Especially with my daughter here— can't any of you learn to keep a clean mouth for Pete's sake?" He stormed up to us. "And what the hell are you all doing with your faces on the glass instead of working?"

"Boss, there's some posh looking bloke with a Benz pulling up," started Phil.

"That's no excuse to stop working,” my dad retorted.

"What's going on?" interjected the voice of my mother, treading down the steps along with nan.

"Nothing. Just this lot getting all hot and bothered over some bit of bling parked outside."

"Oi, I think he's coming to the store!" said Greg.

"I'm here! I'm here! Let me through!" Edna came charging past a few customers, shoving one lad in Addidas out of her path. Bun neatened and some lipstick added on but practically no different than before.

I was in a anxious state, suddenly feeling a knot in my insides. I tried to reassure myself that I made a mistake. I was seeing things because of the smoggy store glass and that there was absolutely no way he of all people would have any reason to be in a place like this.

There was the jingle of the bell.

I held my breath, but deep down I knew I wasn't seeing things. Nor was it the glass. I stood dumbstruck by the impossible sight of Garren Adler standing in my family bakery.

Edna leaned towards me and whispered, "Is it just me... or does Jamie Oliver look a bit different than he does on telly?"

I didn't even answer. I just stared straight ahead, mouth hanging and blinking several times, hoping his figure would disappear. It didn't.

Even without the prominent air of arrogance that Garren seemed to exude, just from his physical appearance alone, any local could tell he wasn't from these parts.

"Probably a foreigner touring and got lost," assumed mum.

Dad proceeded to walk up to Garren who's eyes were scanning the premises with a frown. "Hello," Dad's deep voice immediately caught his attention. "I'm—"

"James Powell,” Garren deduced. "Owner of this establishment, correct?"

Dad was a little thrown off by his calculative speech and response. "Yes... how do you know that?"

"Simple research, nothing hard to uncover. I go to St. Sinclair Academy. I'm in the same year as your daughter, Stevie Powell. Is she here?"

All heads turned to me and they might as well have casted a spotlight on my face because it was a dead giveaway to my location behind the counter where I'd scampered off in hopes of hiding while everybody was distracted. When Garren's eyes found mine, he grinned.

"Oh! Stevie, why didn't you tell us you invited a friend over?" beamed my father.

"He's not a—"

"She didn't have any notice of it. I came here on my own to surprise her," Garren stated.

"Oh, I see." nodded my dad.

"It's great to finally meet one of her mates she's always talking about." My mother stepped forward. "I'm—"

"Anne Powell."

"Oh, you researched me too?"

"Didn't need to. She's practically the spitting image of you," Garren spoke in a gentle tone that I'd never thought such a menace could muster. It sent shivers down my spine.

I was incredulous at the scene before me, my parents getting chummy with the prince of darkness.

"Then you must be Liam huh?" assumed my mother.

"No. My name's Garren. Garren Adler."

"Oh, Garren huh? Lovely name."

"You've got good judgement,” Garren replied, earning a chuckle from my mother who probably thought it was just a response for a show of humour. He definitely wasn't though.

"Well, as much as I'd like to sit down and talk with you, I've got this store and those slackers to keep in line at the minute,” began dad. He swivelled his eyes to me. "Stevie, why don't you and Garren head upstairs for now?"

"But I need to help out, Billie's back—"

"Oh, Billie will be fine." He waved me off. "You can't leave Garren standing around here with you working after he went out of his way to come."

"We have chairs if he wants to sit," I pointed out.

"Stevie." His stone subtlety imposing.

I grumbled under my breath and unknotted the apron from my waist. I began ushering Garren to our apartment on the upper floor and he stayed close behind me. I pretended to miss the stupid grins and smirks the workers along with my mum and nan were giving me.

When we were climbing the stairs and out of earshot, Garren bluntly muttered, "That upper floor better be less of a piss-hole than down there because I'm not getting another spec of dust on my Oxfords."

In a matter of minutes, paradise had turned into Hell.