Breathless

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

We walked in and a chubby guy in a tight grey singlet top looked up from his position leaning on the edge of a large but cheap looking desk, reading a car magazine, to grunt at us. He watched us coming towards him and straightened his back. As we got closer I identified the thick stubble covering his jaw line and under his cheekbones. He looked to be in his late thirties, maybe forties. Definitely a middle-aged man.

"Scott, where have you been? You've got a few people unhappy about your disappearance. They were here earlier asking for the money you owe them." 

His voice sounded like he was involved in an Italian mafia. Low and lethal.

"Hello to you to Jimmy. Listen not now alright? I'll take care of them later."

I wondered about what they were talking about and if these guys that wanted money were dangerous. The guy nodded and changed subjects;

"Who’s the girl?"

He smeared, squinting at me the entire time.

"A friend. We have to go. Ladies first."

Scott directed me to the elevator with his outstretched arm. A friend? I had only thought of him as a mere acquaintance. Now all of a sudden we're friends?

"See you later Jimmy."

Was the last words he said to the guy before the elevator doors shut. I had a moment to think while waiting for the elevator to come to a stop. The whole time everything was happening with the the guy and Scott I must of forgotten about the dream in class earlier today. I remembered Drake mocking everything Scott said and how Scott was trying to..protect me.

The elevator stopped and the shiny stainless steel revolving doors opened once again.

"After you."

He suggested with a smirk. I stepped out of the elevator and we walked alongside each other down the hallway, which wasn't any better than outside with fading flickering light bulbs handing off the walls and dirty burgundy carpet floor. The ceiling was leaking a black liquid, staining the carpet in the corner of the hallway with every drop.  We stopped in front of a room with thirty-six in letters at eye level in rusted gold metal. Scott swiped a key out of his pocket and jiggled it inside the key hole.

I was expecting to see a run down apartment with a broken TV and holes in the couch but when he opened the door I saw the complete opposite. To the right of me stood a Sony eighty-four inch TV which sat on top of a solid wood TV cabinet in front of the light brown painted wall. A Padma’s Plantation Loft Sectional couch outlined the living room along with a Crete rug decorated with more shades of blue than the sea or the sky. Then I turned to the kitchen with a marble bench, stainless steel sink and spotless turquoise tiles.

I couldn't figure out how a guy as young as him could own such amazing and expensive furniture. 

"How could you afford all this at your age? Do you live with your parents?"

I asked, examining the rest of the apartment.

"I'll be right back."

He said, ignoring my questions but I didn't press the issue.

Scott disappeared into the next room. I wandered around admiring the furniture. He called out;

"Can you get me a pencil from my desk in the bedroom?"

I nodded to him in assurance even though he couldn't see me. I sneaked into the bedroom and roamed around. The simple room included a bed with black satin sheets and a dark metallic blue bed cover, and burgundy desk. I was surprised that the bedroom was so empty while the kitchen and living room was so detailed and decorative.

I walked over to the desk but the top was empty, nothing but a few scratches and pen marks. I unlocked the latch that connected to the draw. I searched around for something to write with. Inside I found only a grey led pencil, and a roll of tape. I picked up the pencil and held it with a firm grip. I closed the draw halfway, finding nothing else interesting in it until my eye caught sight of a tiny flip trapdoor. I fiddled around with it for a few seconds attempting to lift it. It was wedged into the draw very tightly. I looked around for something to unclog the door. As if a light bulb flashed above my head I got the idea to use my car key. It slid in the side of the door with ease, after a good push, and I successfully lifted it open. I peered inside at the photograph peaking out of a white envelope sitting at the bottom of the small space beyond the trapdoor.

I place it in my hands and observe the image. Gasping I rapidly let go, in utter shock as it floats to the ground. The face in the picture smiling at me as I gape at it. The women, my mother, standing next to a guy. The guy that was rooms away from me at this very moment. Scott. 

"Mum?"

I asked it, even though I knew I would get no response.

I picked it up off the carpet and turned it over. No evidence of the time this picture was taken. Nothing but white cardboard, and a crease at the upper left corner. A tear slid down my cheek, hitting the back of the photo as it dropped off the side of my chin. The salty water sunk into the cardboard effectively leaving a diminutive wet patch.

Suddenly silver curled numbers started to form right where the tear dropped. It was a year. 1735. I glared at it in confusion. This photo couldn't possibly have been taken in 1735, and yet the numbers grinned back at me as if in protest to my thoughts. I flipped the photo over and gazed back at the familiar people I never would have guessed to have had some connection. I turned it back over to get another good look at the year but it fades away, including my tear drop.

Stomping footsteps enter the room seconds before I slam the draw shut. A sudden amount of anger pulsates through me.

"How did you know my mum!?"

I march up to him and shove the photo in his face. He distracts himself away from it and grins at me in awe.

"What?"

I step back and examine his face. What's got him in amazement?  Ignoring his sudden shock I yell at him once more.

"How Scott!? Where and when was this picture taken!?"

I’m running out of patience. He did this exact same silence at the petrol station. Why is he making this so frustrating?

"Why aren't you saying anything? You told me you would explain everything, well here's your chance."

I muster any calmness left in me and allow enough time for him to answer.