Its freezing here. Good thing I wore my sweatshirt. But damn I’m still freezing. I unzip my sports bag and took my red elegant scarf. Now I don’t seem to be out of place anymore. I already wear my leather jacket with my black denims and a Wrangler’s polo. Decent enough eh? Not like I care.
This place is huge man! The building could be a hotel if it wants to. I mean, it got 6 floors when you look at it on the outside, but the resto only occupies the two floors. So what about the other four floors? Are they all storage rooms? Offices maybe? No it can’t be. Every floor is as huge as any Olympic ice scatting ring. Yeah, I describe it like that ‘cause I can’t measure it. It’s just that big; I don’t know. Well, whatever. I should just probably mind my own business now.
A man passed by me dressed in Armani suit beside me and sat on the other table. He waved his hand up to signal a waiter. Waiters here are unusual, you know why? ‘cause they wear vests! I mean, isn’t their usual attire’s like black slacks, black leather shoes, with white button up shirt? Or sometimes with a bow tie? But a vest?! That’s just.. Ugh... Overly formal for waiters? – Whatever.
My criticizing thoughts where once again disrupted when the man in suit spoke.
“Where is Iyan?” more like he demanded.
The waiter froze for a while, hesitant to reply.
Joe noticed that the waiter muttered something. Like he’s talking to himself, muttering something; his lips inches from his collar. His hand pressing the tip button of it, and it looks like something has been pressed down that made the button seems to look like there’s an inner circle on it below the outer part.
“Boss, may humahanap” He said to himself, or to his collar. Translation: “Boss, someone’s asking for you” He said it so low that I think, the man in front of him didn’t hear it. But I heard it, since I’m directly behind his back, sitting at the edge of the couch, a habit I’ve develop since childhood. My ears are well taken care of since I don’t abuse them and they’re as good as new. As for my eyes, that’s another story.
“And you are Mr…?” The waiter asked lacking respect. Aren’t they supposed to be courteous?
“Tell him Mr.Tachibana’s waiting for him” So that’s what’s he’s name. Tachibana. Japanese I presume?
My phone vibrated on the table, I was about to unlock it when the waiter’s hand went to his upper most button again murmuring something. “Mr.Tachibana daw” I don’t know any better, I think he’s mocking him with himself? Or he’s just mentally unstable? Translation: “He said he’s Mr.Tachibana”
The man asked if he said something, but the waiter hastily replied “No.” and made a fake cough. Fisting his hand from his collar button to his mouth. And I noticed something was blinking inside right ear. Like whaaaaat? Aren’t earrings supposed to be pierced? Not left hanging inside? – I mean, its not like some James Bond thingy like an earpiece right? …. Wait. Oh-my-butt! That’s an earpiece! It blinks every time when there’s a message being sent to him; what the hell is happening here?!
Isn’t this a normal resto, with normal waiters? … Oh yeah. It’s not. ‘cause I can barely afford the milkshake that I’m having right now.
She shakes her head, then sips her beverage while looking outside the glass window as if enjoying the city light and admiring the vehicles as it pass by. Not to be obvious for prying into their conversation.
Her blood ran cold when she heard what the waiter unmistakable said “Patayin siya?” Translation: “Kill him?” The waiter faintly asked on his communicating device doubtfully.
While the waiter was busy talking at his communicator, the man known as Mr.Tachibana eyed him suspiciously. Damn right you should be suspicious! He’s about to kill you old man. I think the waiter said his previous sentence audible enough to alert me while I’m distracted. Either you have bad hearing, or you just can’t understand what he’s saying. And here you are; waiting for the hit to end.
I ready my stance, and fixed my things. This is one of the important privileges sitting on the edge of the couch; I can swiftly make my escape without wasting time on dragging my ass and bumping the table.
Watching every detail of the waiter’s movement. His hand from his collar pressing the tip button again, while saying the final sentence of every hit man he is. “With pleasure, Senior Iyan” – Bang!
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*Sigh* My neck is aching! XD
See you guys soon! Well, the continuation is ready but I'm famished so.. Yeah. I shall return! Not now that is. Hahahaha. Laters,babe. -Christian Grey <3
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Undefined
RomancePrologue: Traumatized in her past, Joe Nicole Heath had enough and wanted to start a new life. With the help of her cousins, but unaware that the mysterious man she saved during the restaurant conversation took an interest on her. When Heath wanted...
