Elliott Miller is your average 23 year-old, only with a lost father and a resentful mother. When he goes back to his hometown to make amends, he inadvertently gets dragged into the activities of an illicit criminal group.
Enter Marcel Nixon, 25, wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was walking down the unfamiliar street while taking in my surroundings; the feeling of the humid air, the uneven asphalt and the sight of the house I'd only heard of from Elliott's reminiscence. My watch displayed the time to 7 p.m., a time I'd chosen in the hopes that I could catch Ivetta Miller at a comfortable enough time. Judging by the lit up windows and the car parked in the driveway, I was fairly certain that my estimations would prove to be right.
I approached the cul-de-sac and took a deep breath, scanning the house once more. I hoped everything would go smoothly but considering the fact that this woman believed her husband to be missing, or perhaps even dead, the bombshell I was about to drop rendered that hope highly unlikely.
I took a few slow, deliberate steps and made my way towards the front porch. Raising my hand, I pressed the doorbell, letting its shrill frequencies consume the silence around me.
About a minute or so later, the door opened, revealing none other than Elliott's mother- Ivetta Miller. The resemblance was unmistakable, Elliott's chocolate-brown hair hand soft features identical to hers. The only difference was her hazel eyes, which contrasted his striking blue orbs.
She stood there with a confused look on her face, understandable since a suit with a briefcase was now occupying her front porch.
"Can I help you?" Her tone wasn't unkind but I could definitely sense an air of caution.
"Ivetta Miller?"
Her eyebrows quirked up in surprise, perhaps not expecting a random stranger specifically asking for her.
"That's me..."
"Mrs. Miller, my name is Marcel Nixon. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, her face turned sour and she glared at me.
"Look, if you're with them, then you can turn around and march yourself back to that swanky limo of yours because I'm not going to be blackmailed again."
Now it was my turn to be surprised. Had someone already approached her? And what did she mean by blackmail? I guess the only way to find out was to gain her trust enough to let me in and talk about it.
"Ma'am, I assure you that I'm not here with ulterior motives. I just have a few questions pertaining to Atlas Miller..."
Her glare faltered replaced by a pale look; her whole frame tensing up.
I thought she would be furious and prepared for her to lash out but her silence revealed that what I'd presumed was anger, was, in fact, fear.
"Ma'am there's nothing to be afraid of. If you'd just tell me anything you know about..."
"I don't know anyone with that name. I think you've got the wrong house," she mumbled and hastened to shut the door.
In a desperate attempt, I put my foot in the way just in time before it fully closed. I was acutely aware of the fact that that would further compel her reticence but I couldn't just quit before I'd even had a chance to explain.
"Please listen to me, Mrs. Miller. I understand that some things I have to say may bring up traumatic memories but believe me when I say I'm not here to hurt you. If you'd still like me to leave, I will but I'd like a chance to tell my side of the story."
I took out a pen from my front pocket and a small notepad, having anticipated that I would require them. Quickly scribbling down an address and a phone number, I ripped of the paper and handed it to her.
"When you're ready to meet with me, feel free to give this number a call and meet me that this location. Once again, you have my word that I'm not here to hurt you."
She took the note from my fingers and nodded slightly, leaning to close the door again. This time, I made no move to stop her, only hoping that she would come around and call me soon.
I sighed and walked down the sidewalk to where my car was parked, mentally preparing for the possibility that this trip could extend for weeks, rather than the few days I'd wished it to be.
The thought dampened my mood, since it meant keeping Elliott in the dark for who knows how long. But I reminded myself that it was for his own good. If I were to call him, I'd end up spilling everything in a moment of weakness, and it would crush him if we failed.
With that, I got in my car and started driving back to the hotel. The next thing to do was to call Mr. Grey and apprise him of the situation, and receive further orders, if any.
So that's what I did.
The second I was in the room, I wasted no time in picking up one of my burner phones and calling the only saved contact- the one to Mr. Grey's office.
"Hello."
"Sir, it's Marcel. I have an update on Mrs. Miller, but you're not going to like it."
"I assume Ivetta didn't give you the time of day?"
I was surprised at his relaxed tone. It seemed as though he'd foreseen this happening and I was perplexed as to how he was so calm at the whole thing.
"Yes sir, but I gave her the address and phone number, so I'm hoping to hear from her soon," I tried to say this optimistically but I was pretty sure it came of as disappointment.
"Listen son, don't try to rush this, she's gone through far too much to unload it all in one day. With that being said, I have the utmost faith in you to get through to her, when she does come around that is, so I urge you to have the same faith in yourself."
"Yes sir, thank you."
"One more thing Marcel..."
"Sir?"
"I think you should go see Violet."
I fell silent, not knowing what to say. It had been so long since I'd seen my sister and the last time I did, it hadn't been under the most pleasant circumstances. I was afraid that seeing her would reopen far too many wounds that I'd allowed myself to forget.
"Before you say no, Marcel, hear me out. I understand that you two didn't exactly see eye-to-eye, but circumstances have changed. You're all she has left to call family and I believe you owe it to her and yourself to patch up and have each other in your lives again, not just as occasional texts here and there."
I opened my mouth to reply to his words but found myself unable to rebut that with a suitable counter. Deep down, I knew he was right. She was all I had left to call family and I subconsciously missed her presence.
I thought back to my conversation with Elliott, remembering the pang I felt when I spoke of her. I didn't want my last memory of her to be some half-hearted "How are you?" text. As much as I didn't like admitting it, some part of me wanted her back in my life.
I sighed and mumbled an aloof 'okay' on the phone, before hanging up.
Maybe getting some food would alleviate the massive pit that had formed at the bottom of my stomach.
