154 hours, 0 minutes, 13 seconds until explosion.
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"Hey, Rico," I smiled sweetly at my cousin, planting myself down on a seat across him. He changed a lot over the years. For one, he grew up. His onyx eyes sunken in, dark circles under his eyes. Scars and slashes were splattered on his face, one even slicing through a thick, dark eyebrow. The last time I saw him, he was twelve an I was nine, now his soft features had sharpened and a thick stubble accentuated the fair skin if my mothers side.
"Cathy, how are you?" he said lowly. I smiled again, amused. He was trying so hard to be cordial towards me, despite the intentions of our meeting. He was never really zealous about doing this, Rico has always been like an older brother to my sister, Michelle, and I.
He cared for us after out mothers' death and my fathers imprisonment. But ever since I turned eighteen, I had been looking for a job, with no luck at all. Michelle and I were almost penniless until he came with the perilous offer.
Apparently, he slipped to his boss that we needed money so he saw it as a way to dispose of a ... white elephant.
Rico tried to stop the transaction after he reviewed the dangers, but his boss was persistent on getting rid of the unwanted asset. I guess that was how he and I ended up here, sitting in a local café in Paris, (Michelle and I fled Italy after we both turned eighteen and became sick of the publics' tributes), a contract on the table with a thick wad of cash and an envelope next to it, the said item in his backpack.
"I'm okay, got a job interview next week, minimum wage. Hopefully they'll look past my odd heritage and take me," I said, pursing my lips thoughtfully. My father was a criminal, unbeknownst to his wife and family. Some how, people think that the eldest child -by birth right- would willingly inherit the delightful career. My father was bat-shit crazy if he ever thought I would do that. That anyone of Michelle and I would do that.
Rico grunted harshly. He despised my father for what he did to us and for his parents ignoring the concept of it, "How about Michelle?" I smiled at the mention of my sister.
"She's wary about the transaction as you are, but she's fine if we get money to pay the rent." I had been known to be independent and stubborn and I wouldn't let Rico lend us money.
His eyes flashed to a deeper red, making the anger towards the deal prominent in his facial features. He curtained it with a forced happy smile.
"That's great!" He then looked at the menu in front of him, "You know, I think I'll have the apple fritters and chai spiced latte. What would you like?"
He was about to call for a waitron, but I slammed his hand flat on the table, the salt and pepper shakers wobbling in their platforms.
"Cut the bullshit, Rico. I got groceries that need to be bought," I said firmly, making sure my posture was straightened and that I appeared fierce and stern to him. On the inside, truthfully, I was shitting myself.
He stared into my hazel eyes, searching for any form of any sign of regret reluctance or hesitation. I made sure there was none. I was willing to take the item for a price. The money would be used to support Michelle and I. The item would be of no use to me. I would probably just hide it away somewhere or throw it away.
He sighed in defeat and opened the first page of the contract, "Read thoroughly and sign at the bottom on the dotted line." I nodded shortly, gratefully. I let him summon a waitron.
Rico stuck to his fritters and chai- spiced latte while I ordered a frappe and chocolate croissant.
We remained silent thereafter. Rico would occasionally glance at me with wariness and sorrow, then back at his food of out the window. My eyes stayed glued to the papers, reading each line carefully over three times except when I paused to sip my frappe of bite into my croissant.
Later, I pushed the contract to Rico, then propped my elbows up, resting my chin in the flats of my palms. "Done."
Rico eyed me, then skimmed over the papers and checking each signature. "Sure?"
"Sure." I nodded stiffly.
"Right," He slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag. He peered into it, then moved at snails pace across the table.
"Give me the goddamned thing," I said, rolling my eyes in annoyance.
An unreadable emotion flickered across his face an his eyes darkened. "No." He stood up abruptly, towering over my small self.
"What?"
"No, I'm not going to be the one that causes the demise of you and Michelle!" Lady Luck was in his favour that the smoking area was empty at eight in the morning. "This thing," he continued, picking up the paper bag and patronising it, "This is going to ruin your life, I've seen what it can do. It can destroy people- cities, if in the wrong hands. I'm not going to hand you the bullet to your gun!" I stared at him. He stared back. I was slightly taken aback by his little speech.
Rico cared for Michelle and I and tried to protect us as much as he could, even when he was forced into the gang life. He loved us and wanted nothing more than our safety upon having pitying us with our situation. His parents, my aunt and uncle, died in a gang war, and the leader enslaved him, burdening him to stay as his weapons advisor. Rico knew he couldn't keep providing for us for long, so, in a time of desperation, he told me of what his boss wanted to get rid of. It was too late when he came back to his senses and realized his mistake, because there was already a transaction set up for us.
I spoke in a kind, but firm tone, "Rico, we both know that sooner or later, your boss will find out that you've been feeding us money, and the consequences will be grave. I know, it's dangerous, but what's the meaning of life if there's not a bit of pericolo*?" I paused, smirking, my middle name was Pericolo. Rico frowned in disapproval. I continued, "Look, I understand your need to protect us, but, if you give it to me, there will be no need for protecting us. We'll be rich, we'll be able to move out of that stinky apartment and afford some luxuries in life. Please, Rico, "My voice became strained, "Let me take care of this."
The longest, coldest pause ensued. I swear, Rico didn't even breathe. His fiery eyes sparked and crackled with emotion, letting each flame burn bright like a forest on fire.
In that case, the only thing that's was going to be burned was that brown paper bag when I got home.
Then, he took a breath, and parted his lips to speak.
"You have to swear on your grandmothers grave that you will not open it or lose it." His voice was a whisper only we could hear. "I promise," I said momentarily. There was still a thick layer of uncertainty and disapproval that hung in the air.
"Catherine..." He said my name warily.
"Ricardo..." I said his name more playfully, with a glint of endearment in my eyes.
"Fuck," he crumbled under my gaze, "Just take it. Don't say I didn't warn you." He threw the bag at me, "Please be careful, Cathy."
I caught the bag with a grateful nod. Both of us standing up, I slipped the paper bag into my satchel and before he could walk away regretfully, I wrapped Rico into a hug.
He almost immediately sagged and responded, encircling his arms around my waist and pulling me closer against him, protectively. I let him bury his nose into my hair, diminishing any chance of me having a neat ponytail afterwards. He was scared. I knew it. He didn't have to be. I could take care of myself and Michelle if he let me. We needed the money to keep up with the rent if I didn't find a job soon. I hated being a burden to Rico and I hated pity. Michelle and I didn't need pity, we needed an opportunity, and we had one. We took it.
We simultaneously broke from the hug and Rico handed me the envelope stacked with money.
"Thank you, Rico." I smiled, pocketing the money. "Stay safe, Cathy and send my love to Michelle."
"I will."
He decided to stay longer at the café, "The fritters are like nothing on earth," was his excuse. As I walked out into the frosty morning air, A weak smile stretched across my thawed cheeks.
A smile of fear,
A smile of strength
A smile of courage
A smile of gratefulness.
A smile of love towards Rico
Towards Michelle
Towards my mother
Even towards my father.
He hit my mother. Swore her. Bruised her. He didn't love or respect her. Almost every night he came home drunk, or in the arms of women half his age, just dying to get into a bedroom with him.
My naïve, kind-hearted mother loved him, she really did. She gave up everything for him. Her job, her boyfriend, her family and home to get an arranged marriage with him.
I sighed. He was still my father. I still appreciated him for working to provide for us. Even if he broke my mothers heart a million times over and over, shattering it to pieces and melting it to a pulp.
Sitting in the drivers of my rusty red car, I reached over to my satchel and counted the money. Once the correct, agreed amount was affirmed, I started the car.
Just as I was about to roll out of the parking space, something whispers to me.
Help me, Miss Catherine.
My eyes widened the darted around my car and out to the parking street. Is someone in here with me? I wondered, looking around in my car.
There was a compelling urge for me to check the brown paper bag, but I suppressed it. I peeled out of the parking space and I drove head on, determined to get home to Michelle.
Help me, Miss.
There was that soft plead that haunted me for the last few minutes of driving. Every now and then, I would reach over warily to tug the strap of my satchel, then attempting to turn a corner with one hand.
I always stopped myself.
"You're going mad," I would tell myself, "Stop it, you're just paranoid for what the bag could contain."
I wasn't paranoid. I wasn't, I promise. I was just... ugh. I don't know. Something was simply drawing me towards the bag. Calling me, taunting me.
Help...help...help...
I didn't notice that my grip on the steering wheel was close to tearing right through the leather until my hands voluntarily relaxed and my shoulders sagged. I was home. Well, something of a sort. The apartment was old, tarnished and close to collapsing on the spot.
I was tired, frustrated and pushed to the edge.
My breathing slowly steadied from its heavy ragged pace. Bringing my forehead to the steering wheel, I closed my eyes, my chest heaving up down. My eyes subconsciously drifted to my black satchel that deflated on the passenger seat. Just freaking open it! My mind screamed, tired of the inssecant pleading and begging that emanated from it.
I can't, I argued with myself, Rico told me not to open it, I promised him. I can't lose his trust.
But the suspicious compelling spur to open the bag was hard to subdue. My mind tried to block out the smooth, silken voice that flooded my mind but the only outcome was a massive migraine and a bloody nose. I was so close to screaming out in exasperation.
After repeatedly banging my already pounding head on the steering wheel, I reached for the door handle. I need to get back to Michelle.
My trembling hand involuntarily paused. What the fuck? They reeled back and threw me across the front seat, over the gear shift and having it dig into my ribs.
"Ow!" I couldn't move, so I shifted to bypass the searing pain that bolted through my abdomen. becoming more accustomed to the sting, my eyes moved to my hand that had laid my out in this position. It was now clutching tightly onto that motherfucking son of a motherless goat brown bag that stuck out of my satchel.
I sighed, exasperated. Gesú Cristo del cazzo di Nazaret, what possessed me to make that deal?
Oh, yeah. My donkey ass life.
Tired, annoyed and severely frustrated, I pulled myself up from my sprawled position and picked up the bag.
I took a deep breath and opened it. Enclosed was a black box with ancient dragon designs spread round.
Anti-climactic, much? I am risking my life for a box. Wow.
I honestly expected an explosion, or a demon or a strong light for dramatic affect.
I studied the box in my hands. Is it a bomb? A music box? A music box that triggers a bomb? No, it's not a bomb, how could it plead and cry? And what sick animal would make a music box that whispers and then sells it for thousands? That's fucked.
Shaking my head, I recognised the illustrations from a book I read on ancient China. Apparently, these types of 'gifts' were not supposed to be here, in Paris, the hands of Catherine Pericolo Valdez, previously in possession by a gang leader. This is supposed to with the current ruler of China, in the treasury, safe and secure.
My brows furred and I contemplated on opening the box. Epic Pandora's box moment, huh? That would look great in my resumé, wouldn't it?
I'm kidding...
Not.
No, really, I'm kidding!
I promise!
Promise...
I made a promise to Rico, to Michelle and to myself that I won't open this box. I can't break my promise I can just throw it into the garbage disposer and that would be the end of it.
Right?
Wrong.
From what I researched, that box was a precious, priceless artefact. I couldn't sell it, that would be disgraceful and disrespectful towards the Chinese empire.
Gesú Cristo, I can't believe I'm doing this.
I reached out to open the box. I lifted the lid.
A bright blue light streamed out of it and filled the car and possibly the entire parking lot. I shut my eyes and held the box away from me, shielding myself from the harsh burst of light with my arms.
When cleared, a blue... thing floated above the box - which by the way, had a pretty purple broche. I was about to scream from shock and confusion but the flying mouse - bug? - clamped a... pa? over my mouth with widened eyes. I cringed back, frightened.
"Please, Miss, let me explain." It said. That soft, calming voice... that's what was calling me!
I would love an explaination from the thing that's been torturing me for the last fifteen minutes!
I nodded, at a loss for words and the flying thing backed up.
"My name is Nooroo. I am a kwami and you are the appointed holder of the butterfly miraculous."
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Hello my miraculers!
Surprise!...
I love Catherine, though. Who else does? And don't you just adore the sibling-like love between her and Rico? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. Adelaide Kane is playing Catherine and- whoops, I forgot Rico. Lemme just...
Cesar Andres Vasquez as Ricardo Hermanes
He has an active twitter account (@andresvasquez87)
Well, thank you very much for waiting this week for me to get my lazy ass to write a new chapter for TPIP AND a final chapter for IA, yes, it is finally out!
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Enjoy your week ;-*
~cakanddonuts~