The Eye Of The Ankh #Wattys2016

Chapter Two

I wore dark jeans and a gray t-shirt. I zipped up my jacket and drove to the address Hugo had given me. I found myself in front of a Café in the main part of town. I sighed and walked inside, ordering a plain coffee and sitting down. I messed with the sugar and creamer packs. I hadn't seen Hugo yet, and I guessed that I was here before he was.

I kept checking the time, Hugo seemed like the type of person to always be on time. I hoped I wasn't making assumptions. You know what assuming does: Makes an ass out of u and me.

I honestly got a little worried when I still hadn't seen him by nine o'clock. I kept glancing at the door as I slowly forgot about my coffee. Every time the door to the Café opened, I sat a little straighter, wanting to appear nice for him. I couldn't help myself.

Finally, Hugo walked in, and he wore a hurried look. He was wearing a gray vest and black jeans, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold and his hair was messy under his vintage hat. He quickly ordered a coffee and sat down in front of me.

"I sincerely apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in my breakfast routine and then everyone was driving very slowly today. I hope you haven't been here too long?"

I smiled. I love the way Hugo talks, purposely using words to make himself seem either more put together or more intelligent. It's almost like he's from a different century. "It's fine. Everyone's late at some point in their lives,"

Hugo laughed then. "Not me." He took off his hat and brushed through his now black hair with his fingers, smoothing everything down.

"You've dyed your hair," I noted.

"That I have. I hate blonde hair, it makes me look pale in a pathetic way. Now, with black hair, I look pale in a mysterious way." He raised his eyesbrows.

I smiled. "I don't know if you're smart, or just portraying yourself that way."

"Verisimilitude." Hugo smiled. "Having the appearance of truth."

I leaned back in the booth. "So, you wanted to talk more about Eota?"

Hugo nodded. "I am the scout. That's all I've been chosen to do. Every once in a while I'll hold a meeting just like the one Thursday, and pick and choose those who I believe will benefit the group. You wouldn't believe the training that goes into that. Anyway, after that initial meeting, I schedule another meeting like today's. Then, if that meeting goes well, you will come to headquarters and talk to the first in command. At this point you've already gotten into the group, Boss is just to choose what you'll do in the variety of jobs we have. Then—"

"What if I decline?" I interrupted, annoyance clear on Hugo's face.

"No one ever has before. We pay a great deal of money once each job is done."

"I don't need money. My aunt is a Grey."

"That means nothing to me, that your aunt is a Grey. Besides, money runs out. The point is, no one has declined before, and I'd be extremely surprised if you especially were to decline at that point. You don't seem like the person to back out. Otherwise, you would've by now, like that other boy."

"What happens after I'm assigned a job?"

"Initiation."

"And that is?"

"You'll know when the time comes. It's honestly dependent on what job you get. Do you have any other questions?"

"What are the other rules?"

"The main rule is secrecy. You mustn't tell anyone what your job is or what group you're a member of. Not your aunt, not your best friend. Hell, don't even tell your dog. And never approach me with questions about Eota. It'd actually be best if you never talk to me. Yes, let's be safe and not talk to each other." I couldn't tell if he was being serious or rude. Both?

I crossed my arms. "Is there something wrong with being friends?"

Hugo chuckled, throwing his head back, laugher erupting from deep in his chest. "You don't want to be my friend, hon. If I were to be friends with myself I'd kill myself." He paused. "I suppose that didn't make much sense." Hugo took a deep breath, ready to better explain. "If I were someone else—another Hugo—and I met me Hugo then—"

"I get it, Hugo." I took a sip of my coffee, then frowned. Gone cold. "When do I meet next, and where?"

Hugo pulled out a small writing pad and a pen. He wrote down a number and an address. His hand moved smoothly, producing something between calligraphy and plain handwriting. "Meet there next Saturday at one. Don't be late. You think I hate people who are tardy? Oh, you should see Boss."

I grabbed the paper and folded it, pushing it in my pocket with my keys.

"If you don't have any other questions, I must be going. I've got an appointment in an hour and I'd like to try to fit in a shower before. Anyway, remember the rules, call—do not text—that number if you have any questions."

I nodded. "Good-bye, Hugo, don't be late."

Hugo glared at me. "Don't be a bitch and I won'tbe late." He smiled and slid out of the booth.