Some might say he was handsome, gorgeous even, but when his eyes fell on mine, locking in place like they belonged there, it felt like ice water was being poured on my body. My breath stopped for a moment and sounds around me of people chattting became muffled. The air seemed chillier as he made his way closer. Maybe he was the Grim Reaper, coming to get me, bring me to hell or something. I was sitting, staring straight back, my body not moving an inch, not sure what to do. His voice was deep and cold, and when it entered my ears and registered in my mind I couldn’t help but think something was off. “Are you Summer Wright?” He asked. I was caught off guard. For a moment I thought he was just a man wanting to hit on me, but he knew my name. What else did he know?
I caught my breath and everything went back to normal, my vision returned, and my thoughts rearranged themselves. His question finally got to me, and I stood up, my book in hand. “Um, yes I am Summer Wright. Should I know you or something?” I asked; a puzzled expression on my face and my free hand clenched in my pocket. He looked about 23, and his suit said he meant business. The man’s perfectly sculpted face contorted to a look of realization, “Forgive my rudeness, my name is Anthony Bassani.” His name sent a ping deep in my gut, almost warning me to stay away. I ignored the warning and returned to the awkward conversation.
My heart was confused and beating abnormally fast as he placed his hand out in front of him, waiting for a handshake. When our hands touched my head filled with memories foreign to me. A large man in a black suit was bleeding on the floor of some apartment I’ve never seen. And a shorter but yet still strong looking man stood above him holding a gun, a smirk on his lips. Then that memory faded a new one began, then more after that, only in a few seconds did this all happen. And as soon as his hand left mine, they were gone. Only fragments of them stayed lodged in my mind somewhere, and yet they were smothered, like something that happened a long time ago, still in the back of my memory.
Before I go on, know this: Although the memories seemed like they were gone, the experience was traumatizing to say the least. Although if I showed emotion or ran away, I’m not sure what would happen to me. He found me once he could find me again, easily. Out of all the places I could go, I chose this place, and I’ve never even been here before. Here I was sitting by myself in a brand new bookstore, and Anthony found me. Imagine how long he’s been observing me for, or if by coincidence he found me here, although that sounds a tad unrealistic.
The man smiled at me; like he knew something I didn’t and put his hand in his pocket. “No I hope not. I worked for your father before he died two years ago. I need to ask you a few questions about your father.” We both sat down at the small table next to us, facing each other. I felt like I was under interrogation, well technically I was. “Recently, your father’s, uh, company has been having a few problems with employees. See after your father’s death, the company has been falling to pieces bit by bit. I was your father’s right hand man you could say, so naturally when he died, I took over the company. We work against many terrible people who all want good people like us dead. So I need your help Summer” I sat there for a moment, wondering how he found me.
I hadn’t talked to my father since I turned 16; in fact his work was the thing that made my mother leave him that day. In fact I remember his exact words he said to my face the night after my “Sweet 16”. He was wearing his work clothes, suit and tie sort of attire, although a large blood stain seeping through his white suit shirt. Me and my mother were in the kitchen when he walked in, only showing up then, never once did he say happy birthday to me that day. He sauntered in; the loss of blood was probably making him a bit woozy. “Benjamin Wright, where have you been, and why are you bleeding?!” My mother shouted running up to him, placing her hand on top of his placed on the wound. “Work, and that’s all you girls need to know. I might need to leave town for a while, find a hotel away from here, and get to a doctor maybe. You girls don’t worry about me.” My mother’s scowl was of the most intensity, she flung her free hand at his face, placing a nice red hand mark right on his cheek.
He didn’t do anything; he took whatever she gave him, the hits, the shouting. He knew if he tried anything, it would make things worse. Sadly all I did was cry and run away to my friend’s house, I was scared and angry at both of them. I stayed over there, secretly and when I got back the next day, I found my mother asleep on the couch, and not a trace of my father. I never saw him after that night. My mother told me she had told him to leave, and never come back. I told myself to never think about him again, not like he loved me that much. He never once told me that anyways, not once did he say those three bull crap words. Well enough of my pity party let me explain some things.
My name is Summer Lillian Wright. I’m nineteen and in searching for a college right for me. I live in an apartment with my best friend Jenny Lopez. I used to live in Ohio with my two brothers, my mother, and my now recently dead father. His job was to kill people pretty much. So naturally, it ended. The marriage, the family, it all ended. Me, my brothers and my mom moved to California, and that’s where I’ve stayed. I don’t want fame, I don’t want danger. I want to live my life and find someone special some day, maybe have some kids. So what you are about to hear is going to switch my world around and flip it inside out.
Anthony was staring intently into my eyes, as mine dashed about; trying to understand what was going on. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about, you need my help with what?!” I asked a bit louder than I wanted it to be, he placed his finger over his pursed lips, signaling me to be quiet. I took a long breath in and out and stared at Anthony with anger in my eyes. He rolled his eyes slightly and placed both of his hands on the table, palms down. He pulled his face closer so that I could only hear. “The terrible people I’m talking about killed your father. And now I need your help. They are here, in America killing innocent people. You are the only one; your father must have passed down some sort of fighting skills or maybe his cunningness. I don’t know. But what I do know is that, those people need you, America needs you, and I need you. So come with me” His words were quick and practically silent. But I registered every word that came out of his perfect lips.
Anthony stood up briskly, getting a grip on my arm and pulling me with him. He passed through book shelves and people, who gave odd looks. As we got near the exit I stopped and pulled away. “Stop, what do you think you’re doing? I haven’t talked to my dad in years, and now you’re telling me that some crazy people killed him?! I could care less that my father is dead. Plus, I can’t save people; I barely know how to work a coffee maker!” I shouted at him I began to storm off, but he had me in a tight grip around the waist, picking me off the floor a bit.
I didn’t understand what was happening, but there was no way Anthony was letting me get away from this. He threw me into the passenger seat of his black corvette. The air in the car was clean and scented with lavender. The car was spotless, no dirt, mud. No trash anywhere, it looked like he just bought it today. He hopped in next to me, as I glared at him, probably looking just like my mother. He revved the engine and pulled out of his parking spot in the back of the book store. He zoomed onto the highway, headed towards San Francisco. I sighed and beat my seat belt on, seeing how I was going anywhere anytime soon. My hands were sweaty so I wiped them on my jeans.
You could feel the tension between me and Anthony. He glanced at me quickly and then went back to driving silently. He was the first to break the silence. “Summer, I’m sorry. But you’re the only person I could think of finding for this.” He said quietly. “Whoa Whoa, how long have you been looking for me?” I asked curiously. “For about a month now, I finally found you last week, and I’ve been monitoring where you’ve been.” I scowled at him. “You’ve been freaking stalking me?! You creep! Ugh!” I threw my hands up and let them fall on my lap. He sighed and rubbed his face quickly. “Look, you’ll understand soon enough why I went to the lengths I did to find you.” At that, we both shut up. As the car hummed and revved every so often, I wondered how the hell I got into this. This is a story to tell the kids.
