Questions

"Listen, I have a plan," my dad says after a couple seconds, turning to look at me again, "That guy outside is my newest plan of escape."

"What?" I ask, completely confused, "How?"

"He used to be in the military and has some skills the rest of my thugs don’t have. He's intelligent as a motherfucker. So much, he's been controlling bad situations before they even happen."

"What the hell? How does he do that?"

"I don't know, I will speak with him about it right now. But I will make him my head of security and keep him by my side for a while. If he's as brilliant as they made him look, he's a great option for me to... rely on him heavily. At least a lot more than I've ever relied on anyone else."

"Dad," I close my eyes and shake my head, "Don't you think it's suspicious that he knows what's going to happen before it even happens? As if... he planned it? As if he's trying to make himself be more brilliant than he is? I mean, if he's a military guy, how come he didn't see me coming directly at him? And he doesn't look that much older than me, so... I don't trust him. What if he's a double agent? What if he's here undercover or something?"

My dad smiles.

"Hey, you're not as dumb as you look," he says with a proud smile, "I have people on him. He lives a weird life and has absolutely no past. Not even a passport. This guy is weird and definitely not to be completely trusted... yet. Still, you keep the people you trust the least very close. And even if he is an undercover agent, he can be of service to me. I'm not scared of the government."

I know that, but it's still nerve-wracking.

"Let me be here for your meeting with him. And let me be a part of this," I push, my dad sighs, "Look, Dad, my mom was innocent. Athena was innocent. Aunt Iliana was innocent. Little Timmy was innocent... and they're all still dead. Protecting them didn't really work, did it? So why don't you let me be here and learn the ways? At least enough to know what to expect. Let me be part of this."

My dad looks down for a second and I know I gave him something to really think about.

"Fine," he finally agrees through his teeth, not loving it, "But you'll have double the security. And you do what I say, always. You don't know better, not in here."

"Okay," I smile, "Got it."

My dad sighs and grabs the phone.

"Sammy," he says once she picks up, "Tell Saint Claude I'm ready for him."

Half a minute later, the door opens and a girl walks inside. I know her, so I lift my hand and wave.

She's really, really hot. She has black skin, round honey eyes and the prettiest face around this building. And her hair is always different. That's what I like the most about her, I think.

"Hey, Birdie, you look cool," she says as she gives a folder to my dad. A tall man walks inside after her, but I don't pay attention to him, "I had a pink wig last month."

"Damn, we could've matched," I say, "Did my dad approve of it?"

"No, he said he didn't like it," she says, giving a tiny smile to my dad.

"Catch up later, kids," he murmurs and motions at the guy to sit in front of his desk, "That's all, Sammy, you can leave."

"Alright, Sir," she murmurs and gives me a smile before she goes... and she gives Saint a thumbs up, as if he needs the reassurance.

"So, Mister Saint Claude," my father says, giving the guy a huge smile. It's fake, but not entirely, "This is my son, Eros Angelou. He'll stay during this meeting."

"That's fine," Saint says and he finally looks at me, sitting right next to him. He gives me a smile that is even faker than my dad's, "I apologize for not helping you out earlier, by the way."

"Why didn't you?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. The guy takes a deep breath.

"I have migraines. Debilitating migraines. They blur my vision and make me feel dizzy for a while. It also makes me look stupid, so I'm sorry," he says and for a second I feel a little bad. There he was having a migraine and I acted like a little shit.

I grimace... but then again, he looked disgusted by me. Not pained. And he said ‘fuck this shit’.

"Got it," I say, only half-believing him. His words sound logical, but they don't make all the sense, "I'm going to take over the business soon and I will be your boss at some point. So, welcome to our company, I guess. How long have you worked for us, Mister Claude?"

"Four months," he responds, looking from me to my dad. This guy is annoyed by me and I can tell, "My first name is Bernard, by the way. St Claude is my last name, but everyone calls me Saint. Just to be clear."

"Noted," I nod, studying his face. He doesn't look like someone from the military. He's not rigid, he's very relaxed and confident. And his eyes hide something. And he's still looking a little disgusted, or is that my imagination? "Where did you start? And why? And how?"

"Eros," my dad intercepts, "One question at a time, you'll confuse the man."