Under the Moonshine

Nine | The Other Side of the Story

The black BMW was parked out front, the sign "VIP" reminded others it wasn't just for anyone. It was a Saturday morning, the cold wind bristled against Wilson's skin as he entered Yotta building. He was dressed in casual, more comfortable than his usual three-piece suit. There were bags under his eyes, his high cheekbone suited his manly face.

Wilson made his way towards the President's office. There were boxes at the corner, some of the photographs belonged to Sebastian were still attached to the wall. Pain ricocheted in his chest as he felt guilty about his best friend's death. But then he shook off that annoying idea, letting out a deep sigh.

Putting the remaining picture frames in the box, he remembered the first moment he laid eyes on him. They were in New Elton International School, he was a scholar and Seb was not. He got bullied by some rich kids, sometimes humiliating him in the middle of the cafeteria just for laughs. Seb didn't tolerate those acts, though, so he stepped up and made friends with him. They were inseparable since then.

He was more on theories while Seb was more on applications. When combined, they were the genius in school, the unbeatable team. Wilson found himself smiling at that thought but instantly frowned when something came up his mind, ruining the happy old times they had. For now, he only got one mission in life. To run this company. He would find a way to make Emily sell Seb's stocks to him.

He heard footsteps and saw Peter Ramirez faltering when he realized he was there.

"Need anything?" Wilson asked while putting tapes around the box.

Peter looked down. "I'm going to deliver Mr. Martin's belongings to their house, sir."

"No need, Pete," he replied. "I'll do it myself."

Peter didn't budge. He then stared at him, hate emerging. He noticed a fresh scratch on his forearm, as if he'd been clawed by some animal. "What happened to your arm?"

Wilson shrugged his shoulder. "Nothing," he answered. "You may go. I'll handle this."

Still, Peter didn't move and shoved his hands in his pocket. "Stop whatever you're planning, sir. You may be the acting President for now, but you can never fully owned Mr. Martin's company."

Wilson snapped as his eyes darted towards the secretary, a bitter smile on his lips. "I'll get this company, no matter what happen. And when that day comes, I'll get rid of you."

Peter swallowed, eyes boring straight at him. "Are you threatening me?"

He shook his head and carried the box in his arms. "It's not a threat," he said as he walked past him, "I'm gonna make it happen."

- - - - -

Emily poured dog's food at Max's plate and whistled, a habit she picked up whenever she was calling to him every meal time.

Footsteps came bursting in, as Max's tried to race with Taren, who ran down the stairs too, as if he had also been called. The sight of them made Emily bit back a laugh, her soft cheeks blushing. And she didn't even know why.

Max started to devoured his food, tail waggling happily. Taren just looked at him and shifted his gaze at Emily's direction.

"Go get some tee," she said as she set the table for their lunch.

He instantly looked down, air chilling his exposed chest. "But it's hot."

She just rolled her eyes. "It's raining outside for hours now and you feel hot?"

He said nothing and cocked his head to the left, a silent plead on his eyes to just let it go. His eyes seemed to glisten, as if sucking out her soul.

Emily looked away, breaking his gaze. "You can pull it off right after the meal. So go get a tee."

He exhaled, disappointed that he couldn't get her to say yes with his style.

"And, Taren?"

"Yes?" He turned to her again.

"The whistle is for Max," she said. Not for you, silly.

He smiled and just nodded.

The clanking of spoon and forks were the only noise around them. Max was lying on the floor at Taren's feet, his eyes focused on every food he was putting in his mouth. He looked like pleading, asking for food but Taren decided to just ignore him.

"Taren?"

"Yes?" he answered as he looked up to her.

She stared for a moment, as if contemplating. "What scares you?"

It's out of the blue, he thought to himself. He blinked, digesting her question, forcing his head to find the answer. "I'm scared of being so angry."

Dead air whistled, enveloping both of them.

Her brows furrowed at his statement. "Why?"

Taren dropped his gaze at Max and flicked a look at her again. "I don't know. I just know that I don't want to feel so angry."

"So that's the reason why you seem so calm all the time."

"Yes."

Emily leaned closer, her curiosity swelling inside her stomach. "What happens if you got so angry?"

He swallowed first. "I don't wanna know."

"When we first met at my dad's lab," she said, "you seem so angry that I got scared and fainted."

"I didn't mean to scare you," he replied and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes saddened, his thoughts wandering back at Sebastian's lab. "I was angry when I found out what happened to Sebastian. I just can't believe he's been killed."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Killed?"

"I don't know who that was, but someone was in the lab while he ordered for me to hide in the cellar. His voice was familiar and so was his scent. I heard them argue and a moment after, Sebastian was lying on the floor, lifeless."

She stared at him as her eyes started to gloss. "You mean to say... he'd been killed. As in, murder?"

Taren exhaled and cocked his head to the right, reading her. "I'm sorry for your loss, Em. I know how much it hurts. I'm there myself."

She wasn't expecting to hear that from him. Everyone was sorry. Her friends were sorry, her father's employees felt sorry too, and so was Olivia, her mother. But none of them seemed to really understand the pain and the weight she felt about the incident.

For the first time since grief crawled up her chest, she finally felt she had a company. A friend. Someone who could understand what she was going through. Someone who would see through her mask and pretentions.

And it was Taren, who had unexpectedly turned up, stepped into her inner circle and was willing to give her the smile she deserved.

"Why you didn't tell me that? Why would they do that to my dad?" she squeaked, trying to hold her sobs.

"Because they want what he had," he answered. "They want his research. They want his study," he dropped his gaze to Max again, avoiding Emily, "they want me."

"You? Why you?"

Max gazed up at him, his tail starting to waggle.

"I don't know."

Silence creep over, binding them.

"I don't know what to..." she trailed off and shook her head. Her head seemed spinning again, everything seemed too much to take. Standing to her feet, she excused herself and walked out.

Max stood up and watched as his master go, debating to himself if he would go after her. Taren patted his head and scratched his neck, abandoning his food on the table.