To Be Obscure

| CH. 18

My phone buzzed in my hand as I dipped it back into my pocket. I thought I'd see the same number Ron had texted me from, but instead, saw Nathan's name. With a quiet 'ah,' I smirked at Rosie while bringing the phone to my ear. "Speak of the devil," I said I looked up at the sky, allowing my cheek to answer the call. "Nathan! What are you up to? Talking Ron to death?"

My smirk fell, immediately. I didn't hear Nathan say a word on the other line, nor did I hear him breathe. "Lamont," it was Star's voice, "Lamont, please."

My eyes fell on the dark windows of the café. Rosie moved to walk forward, but I latched my hand around her arm and held her still. She turned around, ready to complain, but the look on my face silenced her. "What are you doing with Nathan's phone?"

"Please," Star pleaded.

"Answer my question," I said through gritted teeth.

Somewhere behind her, I heard a crash, and a yell. My muscles tensed, and Rosie squealed within my grip. Relaxing my fingers, I let her go. "Star, why do you have Nathan's phone?"

"I didn't mean it, not with him. Nathan shouldn't have been here," she whispered on the other line. Despite the street lights that told me to stop, I crossed the street. Rosie followed me with a quiet, "What's going on?"

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

The moment I was seconds away from the café, the blue neon light within the windows shut off, and I was left looking at the shadow of a diner. I pulled the phone away from my ear to listen inside. Something large slammed against the floor; glass shattered against a countertop. After that came a whimper, a cry, and Nathan, "Stop!"

The phone's screen cracked in my sudden grip. "Nate," I whispered.

"Monty," Rosie touched my elbow, "what's wrong? Where's Nathan?"

Beyond the glass I heard Star's frightened cry: 'Wait, stop!' Over the sound of my phone's quiet buzzing, I heard Ron inside, as well. His voice was strained, angry, and spoken so low, as though I wasn't meant to hear it. "You're fucking it up, Scarlet!"

Scarlet? Why was that name so familiar? I swallowed my nerves.

"Stay here," I rushed towards the café door and tugged at its handle—locked. Pressing my nose against the glass, I peered inside, but saw no one—no movement, no shadows. The stools alongside the register were thrown about. A mug was smashed onto the counter, in pieces, and coffee leaked onto the floor. My fear was on edge.

Behind me, Rosie touched my back.

"I said to stay." I looked back at her.

"I can help," she whispered. "I can hear them, too."

"Ever the more reason." I gripped the handle and tugged hard. The door's hinges cried out as I forced it open. "Go back to the house."

As I stepped inside, Rosie's feet followed. "I don't have the keys," she whispered as she stepped on broken glass.

I flexed my fingers as my heart raced. It seemed empty, but my senses told me otherwise. I could smell the burnt coffee, the fallen muffins. I could feel the subtle vibrations of footsteps on the floor. My eyes focused behind the register, and into the kitchen beyond the dark, red curtain; they were hiding.

"I know you don't need a key," I said to her. "Charlotte must have shown you something."

"What? No, I—"

By the collar of her sweater, I turned her back towards the door. Her eyes darkened as she looked at me, both angry and afraid. "Then break the goddamn door," I slammed my hand on the glass beside her face, making her flinch, "just get out of here."

"You can't do this," she hissed back at me.

"I'm your father," I snapped, my voice just above a whisper, "and it'd be best to listen to me."

A pan fell in the kitchen, and my head shot up. There was a heartbeat that pounded in the air, and I knew it by sound. The same heart that weakly skipped a beat, all due to a murmur that never repaired itself—Nathan.

I didn't wait for Rosie to open the door and leave. My feet barely touched the floor as I darted towards the register and hopped over it with one leap. My hands touched the ceiling, only for a second, before I landed back on the ground, quiet as a mouse. Once through the curtain, I crept into the dark kitchen and followed Nathan's fear.

"Damnit, Scarlet, you're so goddamn weak!" Ron snarled near the back of the café.

I ducked behind a counter littered with pans. A brawl had occurred, leaving the kitchen a broken mess. Coffee beans were scattered across the floor. White flour stuck to dark corners. And that smell.

My back pressed against the cool metal as I listened further.

"We had one fucking job, and you couldn't do that right!"

"I was almost done!" she cried. "I only needed a little more time to convince him!"

Ron scoffed. "Time? Five years, you stupid bitch. Five! I did what you couldn't do, but I did it in just months! Months, Scarlet. What were you going to talk to him about? Forgiveness, or just fucking coffee?"

"Ronny, listen, please. You can't do this. This was my job and mine alone."

"Oh, yeah, right, sure. And that's why they sent me in. Look, I even got bait for the fucking immortal man! Hook, line, and sinker."

"Don't, he's innocent," Star begged. "You can't kill him!"

My eyes went wide, and the air stood still. They were going to kill Nate, but why? How had I been so oblivious? I thought they were my friends, and yet, they apparently were out to get me? Me—the immortal man.

The edge of my foot bumped a fork on the floor, and the small thing made a sound so loud I thought the world had heard it. A quiet "shit" echoed in the air. Then, the voices stopped. I needed to hear one voice, the only one that mattered. "Nate?" I called out. "Nate, are you all right, man?"

No one responded. Not a breath, not a gasp.

"Say something! Anything! I can't save you if I think you're dead. We've gone over this."

I heard the quietest of murmurs, and thought they belonged to Star. Feet hit the ground, creating a ripple effect that I felt against my fingertips. I focused on the beating heart, the quiet whimpers, and then I heard:

"Lamont!"

Nathan.