Backstreet Boy

|Chapter 04: Service with a Smile|

Isabella

The check-up lasted approximately an hour with Jason maintaining his promise of not accelerating his work for me – excusing the pun because it's car-related.

It was when I was waiting, jaded out of my mind and indifferent with the display in front of me (Alex working on a car), that my mind got thinking back to Jason's statement.

And just because you're sat in there doesn't verify your safety, got it?

It's probably just because this is Downtown District and nowhere in The District is safe and secure. You require protection wherever you go – and that's why it's not safe because everyone transports some sort of misshapen weapon with them. With that being the case, surely everyone in this town would have a severe case of paranoia, too?

Then the reminiscence of the note whirled into my head. You can't hide from me, rich girl. The correspondence was peculiar in itself, but to arrive on my bedside table through my window in the dead of night after witnessing Jason being beaten up? Now that was not something that would typically occur in Marble Valley... or would it? Most crimes do get hushed up by the media and are only publicised by the word of mouth by gossiping occupants of The Valley.

"You know Jason then?" Alex questioned abruptly. He was wiping his hands on a cloth but the stains still lingered, tarnishing his hands. This was an apparent endeavour to commence conversation between us to fracture the tension lapsing in the air.

"Mere acquaintances," I replied. "I met him last night."

"You know, he mentioned that last night was a strange one."

"To put it mildly," I corrected.

Before Alex could get another word in and speculate the acquaintance between Jason and I, Jason came strolling back into the garage. Like what Alex was doing formerly, Jason rubbed his hands vigorously against his own cloth. Then he gesticulated for me to follow him into the desk/work office region behind us.

"You had off-centered your car. Here's your key," he announced, chucking me the keys.

Hastily, I withdrew my arms to haphazardly catch them with both hands, emulating what a crocodile might do when they've ensnared their pray with their mouth. My reaction was quite the contrary of graceful so I lowered my arms and ruffled my hair as if to make up for it.

"So, did you enjoy the shops then?" he breathed, rifling through papers and singling out a few, with drawing them and depositing them on the top of the pile.

"You mean the black market? I didn't want associate myself with illegal things! I could get arrested!" I protested. "So no, I didn't enjoy the 'shops'."

Jason frowned. "I hope you weren't bored. But I'm also hoping you don't expect Alex and I to start singing Greased Lightning or Uptown Girl. I think Uptown Girl would be more fitting, though."

"And Greased Lightning wouldn't when you race cars for money?" Perhaps I should have kept my big mouth shut. Normally, I can't imprison secrets and rumours so it had been some sort of phenomenon to conceal this from Lizzie today. Then again, she had a blabbermouth too so perhaps that was my incentive.

He ceased riffling through the papers and slowly turned his gaze towards me, still hunched over the desk slightly. "You don't know anything about my life, so don't jump to conclusions about it. You don't know what I do and my reasons," he gruffly demanded, his eyes narrowing. The colour darkened, too and now they were dark chocolate instead of mocha or honey brown they were previously.

"I'm sorry," I replied, bowing my head and composing myself which consisted of straightening my spine.

You have to sit up otherwise you're going to be hunch-backed when you're older, Isabella and that is not how a lady should ever look. Shoulders back and down, chin high and back straight. That's the way to do it – that's how Mother relentlessly notifies me of my ever-escalating bad posture.