Brooklyn:
After being forced to spend one summer in Italy with her grandma, Brooklyn always found her way back to the cobblestone streets but not for the feeling of a summer never ending, but for Valentino, a boy who radiates trouble and sees throu...
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POV: Brooklyn ꧁The winter before Summer #1 ꧂ "The truth doesn't always make a good story, does it?" - Lev Grossman, The Magicians
I'm a million lightyears away from this polished place with its polished people.
Pointless conversation bounces off the stark white walls and all I think about how a stroke of bright red, forest green, and little spats of mud brown would lighten it up with some life. Even though I should be paying attention of conversation to hand, I find myself escaping into the depths of my mind. Maybe I should try to listen?
"I was talking to Robert about the new investment in Salisbury Real Estate-"
Yeah, maybe not. Once my to-go to smile start to slip, I straighten my back and smile even harder until I feel my cheeks ache. The soles of feet throb with pain from standing for more than three hours entertaining my father's business partners and closest friends.
Every Winter my family hosts one of the biggest charity balls of the year. It didn't take just money to here, you had to power and influence. When I was younger, I thought this was a huge networking event, but as I grow older, I notice and hear things I'm not supposed to hear.
Like how the guy I'm "talking" to runs his business by profiting off immigrants' back for pennies. It doesn't take a genius to realize this place isn't a networking event, it's where the monsters of the Underworld meet annually to indulge freely in their crimes and the thing that's been bothering me all night was my father was one of them.
I take a champagne glass off a server's tray and reminisce on the night before.
🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮
When the lights are off, the glass chandeliers, expensive vases, and marble floors don't matter. The darkness takes every precious thing away, leaving us stripped bear with only our darkest secrets and insecurities. The drips from the chandelier follow me as I tip toe out of my room into the dark hall. I strongly believe that you find what you look for.
Look for bad, you get bad. Look for good, you get good. It's a mere principle that's blinded my eyes from the truth every time I chose ignorance over reality. I've done this for years, but its not until now that I really start to question my father's business and what made it.
I was only born a 2 years before my sister Elena, but faint memories of cookouts in small backyards clouds my mind. I remember smiling faces that was stricken with age, but was happy, nonetheless. So different from the fake smiles I see now.
How did my papa went from another rat in the race to the most respect lawyer and businessman in New York City in only a couple of years?
Moonlight is my only source of light as I continue my path to his office, cringing with my slipper squeak against the floor. When I finally reach the big old oak door, I hesitate for just a moment. I know what I'll find will be something I won't like, but I continue anyway, opening the doors.
My nervousness turns into full-blown panic when I catch the security pad, he placed next the door. It beeps repeatedly, flashing a red light. He banned us from coming to his office, so I didn't know what to expect, but who the hell have a security lock?
"Shit, Shit, Shit," I pace the room, running my hands through curly that has been straighten.
It's only a matter time before the alarm alerts him of my intrusion, and base off the clock on it I have 30 seconds to enter the pin.
My mind runs over the possible codes, birthdays and anniversaries seem too generic. Too normal for my papa to put as his code. I try the first thing that comes to mind.
1964, the year of his favorite car.
The security system stops bleeping and the lights turns green.
"Yes!" I fist-punch the air in victory and continue with my mission. My footsteps falter for just a second to see if anyone awoke from the bleeping noise, but when I'm greeted with eerily silence, I head to my father's computer.
After trying multiple passwords, I find out that it's my mom's birthday. I take note of that and look at the first thing that pops up on the screen, which is an article on latest news on US economy. My eyes roll on their own accord, and I head to more interesting places like his email.
Nothing.
Frustrated, I check the last place where anyone would keep their secrets.
His bank account.
As I scan the transactions, everything looks normal until I realize 500,000 dollars being wired to account a year ago. Furrowing my brows, I click on the account to track it, but end up with a dead end. I'm about to give up when I notice something out of the blue.
The time of the transaction.
It was wired around 4pm on May 19. Around the same time my father picks me up from school every day, I would have noticed if he made such a transaction since he would have to talk to a banker when that much money is being transferred.
I search for the memory, nothing comes up. Only faintly memory of him speaking to me while he was driving.
The only possible reason it will transfer at that time if he transfers it to someone in a different time zone. It would make sense due to the fact the account is almost untraceable. I dive further into the account to check what time the money was received, but falter when I hear the unmistakable footsteps of my father. Thinking fast, I hide under the desk and pray.
The doors squeak loudly as he opens it slowly, I watch as he input the pin and take a step back. He's eyes scan the room top to bottom, trying to see what's out of place. I hold my breath as he comes closer and closer to his desk. The chair is slightly angled differently from when I first came here and although most wouldn't notice, I know my papa most certainly would.
Another pair of footstep's approach, "What's going on," my mother voice is hoarse from sleep.
My papa takes another step closer, and I close my fingers over my mouth, "I got a notification from the alarm system."
My mama sighs, "You get a notification when someone breaths next to your office. Its late, you should go back to sleep. Tomorrow is the ball"
Once my father reluctantly agrees, a wave of relief comes over me and I wait a few minutes before I officially leave. I stop next to the security system, and look at the settings, scanning for the notifications so I can add my number. He won't be the only one on alert.
My walk to my room is quiet, but confident. I feel a sense of pride of what I done, I'm finally a step ahead of my father, but when I fall to asleep with a smile on face, a strange feeling wraps itself around me warm and tight.
It twists itself in my gut and causes my earlier confidence to fade slowly. Even though I may have one-upped my father this time, I have a feeling that its only at matter of time before all the secrets are out the Pandora's box.
