book 1 of 3
ever since bianca 'b' prescott was born, she was told that she was the fairest of them all. and like any, the island's very own kook princess had a reputation- she was stubborn and shallow and most of all, she was a spoiled bitch. but ev...
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"What are we doing at your dad's hotel?"
John B glanced up at the sky-high building in front of them, his mouth hung slightly agape. The words 'Surfer's Paradise Resort' glinted under the hot, summer sun, the clear cerulean sky reflecting against the double paned glass structure.
Bianca began walking towards entrance, it's exterior embellished with golden designs that complemented the ocean across the road where the waves lapped against the shore. From the outside, you never would've been able to tell that there was a hurricane last week.
John B watched as she clicked a button on her keys and her car beeped twice, the convertible hood automatically closing itself, "You're a little slow, aren't you, JB?" She said with a hint of amusement.
"No," He huffed, following after her, through the automatic-sliding doors.
If John B thought the outside was impressive, the inside was gorgeous enough he might've just dropped dead. The boy gulped audibly at the glass chandelier that illuminated the large lobby where tourons were busy bustling through, some checking in and others checking out. John B trailed after the girl, passing potted plants in expensive looking glass vases and workers dressed in lavishly designed sable and pearl-white uniforms.
"Don't touch that," Bianca didn't even have to turn around when John B reached out to graze his fingers against the golden call bells at the reception.
He followed sheepishly after her, feeling extremely out of place and somewhat under dressed. Bianca led them past the elevators and towards a dining area where people were eating lunch.
"Woah- sorry," John B muttered when he almost bumped into one of the waiters carrying food towards a family of kooks. The waiter gave him a dirty look to which Bianca laughed at.
"Bianca!" A loud voice boomed excitedly from the front desk that held a cash register and short elderly east-asian man with graying strands of jet black hair. He wore a chef's hat and robes with a large grin plastered on his face when he saw the girl, "How've you been?"
"I'm good, Eddie- how are the kids?" She smiled softly at him.
She couldn't help but feel joy at seeing the little man beaming up at her with the sweetest smile on his face. Edison Wu was one of the best, most dedicated workers she knew and has been working for her father for almost 20 years now as the head chef. Her father's respect for Edison had grown consistently over the years for the man's kind demeanour, loyalty and the amazing job he does in the kitchen. Without him, the hotel wouldn't have been commended as it was.
"Troublemakers- you know how they are," He waved her off quickly before glancing over at John B who was standing off to the side awkwardly, "Who's this white boy?"
Bianca chuckled softly, "Eddie- this is John B."
The brunette outstretched his hand to shake the little man's, "Nice to meet you, Eddie."
Suddenly the smile dropped off Edison's face and he glanced at his hand with a look akin to disgust, "It's Mr Wu to you," He snapped.
John B brought his hand back to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sorry- Mr Wu."
Bianca glanced at their interaction as if she was trying not to laugh, "Eddie, he needs a job."
John B's widened gaze snapped to Bianca's, his mouth hung agape again, but Edison was already shaking his head, "No, no, no- we have no room."
The girl pouted slightly, "Please, Eddie- for me," She hummed and John B didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that at the snap of her fingers, Bianca Prescott could get anything she wanted handed to her on a silver platter.
"Okay- fine-," Edison conceded and the grin on Bianca's face quickly returned, "You're lucky one of our waiters was fired last night."
John B frowned, "Why- why was he fired?" he stammered.
"He wore the wrong shoes to work," Eddie snapped to the boy with a glare. John B glanced down at his two year-old untied sneakers that had tracked in mud into the hotel and back to Mr Wu with a nervous laugh.
Bianca hummed, "Professional busboy- I like the sound of that."
"Yeah," John B responded with a sheepish expression, but he was melting under the glare Edison had been sending him.
"You start tomorrow- 7am," The little man spoke quickly before turning on his heel, "Don't be late."
After Edison left, the two stood there at the desk, a comfortable silence settling between them. Bianca gave the boy a small smile, "I know it doesn't make up for getting you fired, but it beats running charters for Ward- and it pays better," She said hopefully.
"Yeah," John B gave her a grateful nod, "Thanks, B."
Hesitantly, she added, "Could you do me a favor and not tell Sarah about this?"
"What?" John b chuckled, but agreed anyway, "Don't want her to think Bianca Prescott has a heart?"
Bianca rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her glossy lips, "Whatever, this doesn't mean we're friends now, okay?"
"Wouldn't want it any other way," John B grinned, "It'sway ourway ecretsay."
Bianca frowned, "Are you having a stroke?"
"What?" The boy's eyes immediately widened, "I was trying to say it'll be our secret. Shit- I knew I should've gone with Klingon-"
"No- shut up, nerd," Bianca interjected, her eyebrows creased in concentration, "What language is that?"
"Well, it's not really a language- it's fake language, JJ made me learn it so we could cheat in sch-" John B stopped rambling when the girl shot him a deadpan look, "It's pig-latin."
"Holy shit," Bianca mumbled, pulling out her phone and scrolling to the picture of the post-it note she took, "John B, you might not be a complete waste of space."
"Thank you?" The boy replied hesitantly, leaning over her shoulder to glance at what she was doing.
Bianca's eyes scanned over the words- 'Ardway. Eetmay emay inway ymay officeway, eway eednay otay alktay.'
Translated from pig latin, the note read: 'Ward. Meet me in my office, we need to talk.'
