Chapter 3

NEVILLE

My phone rings again after I get off the plane with my baggage strolling behind me to get through sweaty bodies to baggage claim. I decline the call as I make my way through customs. They do a quick passport check and then stamp my passport as I walk around the busy airport trying to get out of it and head to my car brought here by one of my core trusted house staff. Uncle Jean texted me earlier, telling me that my driver was waiting for me outside the front main exit.

My phone rings again when I locate my car, and my driver opens the door for me, and I slide inside the back seat.

I check my phone screen to see who’s calling me now. It’s an unknown number. Nobody knows except my close family and staff that I’m heading back home. Arnold, my driver, adjusts the front mirror and then puts the car to drive.

He speaks first when I silence my phone and pocket it.

“I’m extremely sorry, Neville.” Arnold takes a hard look at me through the mirror that's aimed at the backseat. “I can’t believe the news. They told me about your father, and I still cannot believe it.” He doesn’t say much anymore but stares at the road in front of him. “I’m here if you need me. I know that you’re going to need us a lot in the coming weeks.”

I pay little attention to his words but keep my eyes locked on the road, lost in my thoughts.

How did this murderer know where they needed to find my dad? 

How come my dad was at the right place and at the right time?

Why was he there alone?

Couldn’t he have taken Arnold or Jean or anyone else?

“Did you drive my dad on the night he was murdered?” I lick my lower lip. “How come he was alone when he was run by a car in the middle of the street?” I close my fingers into tight fists. “Where were you?” I stop and rephrase the sentence. “Why weren’t you there with him?”

“He said that he needed to tend to some urgent business.” Arnold turns away his face ruefully. “He didn’t want me to come with him. I even asked him twice why he didn’t want me to drive to whatever place he wanted to go, but he said that he had a ride coming later at his office and it would pick him up and drop him back to his office.” Arnold fixes the cuff of his shirt. “Your father intended to stay the night at the office because he had mixed up some European clients’ orders and he needed to sort them out overnight to make sure that the business went kept moving on the right foot with them.”

“So, according to you, my dad was scared of losing some clients?” I scoff. “That doesn’t sound like my dad at all.”

“He was afraid that the mixed up orders would damage the reputation of his company. He had a contract to uphold with them.” Arnold changes lanes as he speaks. “It’s not like he was afraid for himself. He didn’t want to lose some of his highest-paying clients because of his employees and how he had to keep the company afloat and in good standing till when you inherited it. Knowing how hard your father worked and all the kinds of people he dealt with, it was a mixed bag of responsibilities. It would take time for you to understand where he was coming from.”

“You’re right.” I stare at all the trees we are passing by. “The more I grow up, the less I understand this world.” My hands ease themselves and I stretch my fingers. “I still can’t believe neither you nor Uncle Jean tried to stop him from getting his way with things. You both know how stubborn my dad is-he was.” 

The stream of pain is back and I feel it lap against my chest.

“Why couldn’t he just have listened?” I ask the question more to myself than anyone else. “If he did listen to you, he would be here and not dead. There I said it.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Arnold keeps his eyes on the road. “Nobody can predict the future, and neither can you.”

As we are passing a series of fast-food outlets on our side of the lane, my eyes fall on a seven-eleven supermarket store right on the other corner of the street. My stomach rumbles, and I remember I haven’t eaten anything since the food on that airplane was less than okay, and the alternative menu food had nuts. I have an allergy to nuts. Maybe I can grab a couple of sandwiches since they are easy to source in these stores.

Who knows what I’m going home to? What if my housekeeper Margarethe wasn’t there since she had feelings for my dad?

“Arnold, can you stop near that seven-eleven?” I wipe my eyes. “I need to grab something to eat.”

“All right, hang on.” He turns the car around from the next freeway exit and stops the car right outside the supermarket. “How long will you be? I’m here, so no need to hurry or anything.”

“Okay.” I’m not in the talking mood today. “I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

With saying that, I enter the supermarket through the revolving doors and walk towards the aisles, and a big gush of cold air hits my face as I’m walking through frozen foods aisles. I walk myself through a lot of frozen pizzas to see if they have a chicken sandwich because my stomach has a sudden hankering for it. I grab a cup of frozen yogurt and a ready-to-eat chicken sandwich. My stomach wants to pick up some ramen too, so when I’m running into this other aisle to grab some of my favourite Chinese ramen packs, someone bumps me on the shoulder listening to music, and the impact sends them crashing to the floor. It also makes them drop all the food packs in their hands.

“What the hell?” The girl on the floor yells, and I gaze at her with my mouth open. Her hair is so shiny and black, and she has the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. I feel like her beauty is blinding me. She’s drop-dead-gorgeous, and even in her white work overalls, she looks like a social media star waiting to get papped. She gets up on her knees, wiping the back of her pants as she stands up straight. “Excuse you, where’s your mind at?” She slowly licks her lower lip. “What are you lost in?”

Her supervisor comes walking, hearing the commotion. He stares her down, and she immediately shuts up.

“I’m so sorry.” I help hand her the food packs laying scattered around the floor between us, and she reluctantly takes them. “It’s my fault. Nothing you did. I didn’t see where I was going at all.” I stare at the name badge on her shirt and feel a strong sense of guilt that I have made trouble for her at her job. I know these places pay shit, and she must be working here because she unquestionably needs it. “I’m sorry I ran into you, Amelia.”

That settles some of that evident rage bubbling in her facial features, and my words do help to placate her.

“It’s fine,” she says in a clipped voice. There’s a hint of annoyance in her voice still. The supervisor flashes me a smile and walks to another aisle when a customer asks him a question. “What can I help you with today?”

Her eyes are on the floor, and then she puts her gaze on arranging the chips bags one by one on the aisle.

“Actually, I wanted that pack of ramen on your right.” I want to say that I’m sorry again, but I hold myself back. I don’t know why I make that decision. “Thanks again for forgiving me. I didn’t mean to make any trouble for you.”

“You have already made enough of that.” She looks me up and down. “Rich boys like you are all but the same. You don’t think that people are people because, for you, people are replaceable.” Her eyes start getting red, and the ends of her eyes form beads of water. “You don’t care if the people working for you are going through a bad day. You just want things getting done for you, don’t you?” She crosses her hands on her ample bosom, and I hate myself for checking her out. “So, can I help you with something else, or are you done here?”

Maybe she’s having a rough day like me.

I want to do something to help her, but what can I do?

Should I put in a good word for her with that lanky supervisor guy?

Instead, I ask her a question.

“Why are you having such a rough day?”

“My mom is dying, and unlike you, I don’t have enough money in my bank account to pay for her medical bills.” She throws her hands in her hair to twist it into a bun on the back and secure it with a hair tie on her wrist. “I can’t do anything to save her. This dead-end job won’t help me save her. I will never go back to college. To make matters worse, I will sit right next to her on her hospital deathbed and watch her slowly fade away everyday till she's not in there anymore. Not to mention, it’s already happening. The process has started itself, and I don’t know what comes next.”

“Come, work for me.” Her eyes are wide as saucers. “You heard me right. When you’re done on your shift here, come work for me. I can send my driver to pick you up and drive you back to my house. You can get started today if you want.”

Her jaw figuratively meets the floor.

“Work for you?” She shakes her head. “Are you a crazy asshole or what?” She puts some distance between us. “I’m not what you think. I’m not looking to work for some stranger that I don’t know anything about!” She stares at me wildly. “What do you mean by ‘my driver will drive you back to my house?’”