Chapter 2
The taxi finally stopped, and I let out a happy little sigh that fogged up the window. Home!
My house is the prettiest house in the whole world. It's a small, two-story box painted the color of a very bright, very happy lemon. My Mommy loves yellow because she says it attracts good fortune, but I think it mostly just attracts bees. But that's okay because bees are fuzzy!
I paid the driver (I gave him a tip because I felt generous today, even though my wallet is crying) and skipped to the gate. As soon as I unlatched the metal lock—CLANK!—the smell hit me.
Sniff. Sniff.
The scent was like a warm, salty hug floating through the air! I basically teleported to the front door, kicked off my shoes (neatly! I am a lady!), and ran towards the kitchen.
"MOMMYYYY!" I shouted, launching myself at the woman standing by the stove.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and squeezed. She smelled like fabric softener and frying oil—the best perfume ever.
"Oh! Leesha!" Mommy laughed, patting my head with her free hand. "You're home early. How was school?"
"It was... eventful!" I said, pulling away to steal a piece of crispy bacon from the plate. Crunch. "Where's Daddy?"
"He took a side hustle," Mommy said, flipping an egg. "Something about fixing the neighbor's roof gutters. He'll be back later tonight."
"Okay!" I chirped.
Suddenly, I heard the pitter-patter-scratch-scratch of claws on the tiled floor.
"WOOF!"
"PRIMROSE!"
I dropped to my knees as a giant ball of golden fluff tackled me. Primrose is our Golden Retriever, and she is technically my sister. I grabbed her face and squished her cheeks.
"Who's the prettiest girl? Who is she? It's you!" I kissed her forehead.
She looked absolutely stunning today. I bought her a hot pink knitted hoodie last week (it has a pocket for her treats!), and Mommy had tied little satin ribbons on her floppy ears. She looked like a runway model. A very hairy runway model.
"Come on, wash your hands," Mommy scolded gently. "Lunch is ready."
Lunch was heaven. It was garlic fried rice, bacon, and sunny-side-up eggs. I was so hungry from all the hacking and emotional stress that I might have accidentally eaten a lot.
"Leesha," Mommy blinked as I reached for the rice cooker. "Is that your third cup?"
"Brain power, Mommy!" I declared, scooping a mountain of white fluffy goodness onto my plate. "I have a very important mission later. I need carbohydrates to fuel my neurons!"
After lunch (and a little tummy rub for Primrose), I marched upstairs to my room.
My room is my sanctuary. It's painted pastel pink, and my bed has so many pillows that sometimes I lose myself in them. I changed into my pajamas—the ones with the tiny strawberries on them—because comfort is priority number one.
But then... I remembered.
The Mission.
I looked at the clock on my wall (it's shaped like a cat). It was already 2:00 PM. I had a date—err, a negotiation—with Mr. Samuels tonight.
I narrowed my eyes at my reflection in the mirror.
"Okay, Aleesha," I whispered to myself. "Focus. You need to get that A. But you can't just ask for it. You have to be... strategic."
I walked over to my bookshelf and pulled out my secret weapon. A book titled The 48 Laws of Power. I've only read the back cover and maybe three pages of Chapter 1 because the font is kinda small, but I totally get the gist of it. It's about psychological warfare.
"Law Number... something," I nodded sagely. "If you want a person to say yes, you must be presentable."
I threw open my closet doors.
I needed an outfit that said, "I am innocent and sweet, please give me an A," but also, "I am a serious academic weapon, do not mess with me."
I rummaged through the hangers. No... too sparkly. No... too casual. Aha!
I pulled out a white, mid-length dress. It had ruffles at the hem and cute little ribbons all over the dress. It was very cottage-core. Perfect! And to top it off, I grabbed my favorite baby pink cardigan with the embroidered red flowers.
I held it up against myself.
"Perfection," I grinned. "He won't stand a chance against this level of cuteness. He'll be so dazzled he'll accidentally type 'A+' on my transcript."
But wait!
I paused, a finger on my chin. Looking good isn't enough. People like gifts. Gifts make people feel guilty, and guilty people give you what you want. It's basic manipulation! Mwehehehe!
I need a bribe. But I have exactly twenty dollars in my wallet, which can buy... maybe a pack of gum? That's not impressive.
"Think, Leesha, think!" I tapped my temple. "What do you have that money can't buy?"
My eyes lit up.
I am a culinary genius. Specifically, I am the Queen of Rice Balls.
I threw my pajamas back on and zoomed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Thump-thump-thump!
"Leesha?" Mommy called out from the living room where she was watching her soap opera. "Is the house on fire?"
"Not yet!" I shouted back, sliding into the kitchen in my socks. "It's for the betterment of the world, Mommy! Don't worry!"
I tied my apron (the one that says Kiss the Cook) and got to work.
I grabbed the sticky rice. I grabbed the canned tuna. I grabbed the mayonnaise and the special Japanese seaweed I was saving for a special occasion. This was it!
I mixed the tuna with the mayo—squish, squish, squish—adding a pinch of salt and love. Then, I wet my hands and grabbed the hot rice.
"Ouch, hot, hot!" I blew on my fingers, hopping a little dance.
I molded the rice into perfect little triangles. Triangles are the strongest shape in architecture, so logically, they are also the tastiest shape for food. I stuffed the tuna inside, wrapped them in the crunchy nori, and... voilà!
Three perfect Onigiri.
I placed them gently into my Hello Kitty lunchbox and then slid the lunchbox into a cute brown paper bag.
I smirked, wiping a smudge of rice off my cheek.
I am a mastermind. I have two goals tonight. One: Get the A. Two: MANIPULATE him into confessing his crimes.
Yes! While he is eating my delicious rice balls, his defenses will be down!
His stomach will be happy, and his brain will be mushy!
Then, I will ask tricky questions like, "So, Mr. Samuels, isn't it illegal to date minors?
" and he will be so charmed by the tuna mayo that he'll just say, "Yes, Aleesha, I am guilty! "
Then I record it on my phone! And BOOM! Justice served!
I checked the time. 5:00 PM.
"Oh no! I need to get ready!"
I ran back upstairs, showered (using my strawberry body wash, obviously), and changed into my tactical outfit—the white dress and pink cardigan.
I styled my long, curly black hair until it shone like a waterfall of ink.
I put on a baby pink headband to keep my hair out of my face (very professional).
Finally, a spritz of baby cologne. Psst. Psst. I smelled like a powdery cloud.
I grabbed the paper bag with the bribe—I mean, the gift—and headed down.
"Mommy, I'm leaving!" I called out, putting on my white doll shoes.
Mommy appeared in the hallway, frowning. Her eyebrows were scrunching together. "Leesha, are you sure about this dinner? With a professor? It's... unconventional."
"It's fine, Mommy!" I waved my hand dismissively. "It's strictly academic! It's for my grades! I have to fight for my future!"
"But... alone? At a restaurant?"
"I'll be okay!" I kissed her cheek loudly. Mwah! "I have my phone. And I have pepper spray... somewhere in my bag. I love you! Bye!"
I rushed out the door before she could ask more questions. Parents worry too much. I am nineteen! I am basically an adult woman of the world!
I walked towards the exit of our village. Our village is nice, but taxis aren't allowed inside, which is super annoying. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. It was so pretty! I wish I could take a picture, but I was on a schedule.
I reached the guardhouse and stood by the curb, tapping my phone to open the Uber app.
VROOOOOM.
Suddenly, a massive, shiny black SUV pulled up right in front of me.
It was huge! Like, tank-sized. The windows were tinted so dark I couldn't see inside.
The back door clicked open.
Before I could even blink, two men in black suits stepped out. They were tall. Like, basketball player tall. And they were wearing sunglasses. At 5:30 PM!
"Ms. Garcia," one of them said. His voice sounded like gravel.
"Huh?" I blinked, holding my paper bag tight.
They didn't wait for an answer. They sort of... ushered me. One man gently but firmly held my elbow, and the other one guided my back.
"Hop in, please," the gravel-voice man said.
I found myself sitting on the leather seat before my brain could even process what happened. The door slammed shut with a heavy THUD.
Click. The locks engaged.
The car started moving immediately.
"Whoa," I breathed out, my eyes wide. I gurgled some air because I forgot to exhale.
I looked around. The interior was fancy. Like, really fancy. The seats were made of cream-colored leather that felt like butter. There was a faint blue light glowing near the floor. And the air conditioning! It was so crisp and cold, and it smelled like... expensive mints?
My brain connected the dots instantly.
"WOW!" I gasped, clutching my paper bag. "Mr. Samuels is so extra! I was just going to book an Uber!"
I looked at the man sitting to my right. He was wearing an earpiece and looking straight ahead, his jaw tight.
"Hello!" I chirped, flashing my brightest smile. "Are you Mr. Samuels' driver? Or like, his bodyguard? This car is amazing! Is it bulletproof? It feels bulletproof. Not that I've been in a bulletproof car before, but this feels sturdy!"
Silence. The man didn't even blink.
I turned to my left. Another man in a suit.
"Hi there!" I waved a little. "Do you know how long the drive is? I have fresh rice balls in here and I don't want the seaweed to get soggy. Soggy seaweed is a tragedy."
Nothing. He just stared at the back of the driver's seat like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"O-kay," I whispered to myself. Rude.
I leaned back against the super-soft cushion. Maybe they aren't allowed to talk? Maybe they are robots? Or maybe they just take their jobs very seriously.
I stared at the AC vent. Mr. Samuels must be richer than I thought. A professor with a private driver? Maybe he inherited a fortune? Or maybe... maybe he invented a new religion and got rich from it? He is a Theology professor!
The drive felt long. I tried to count the red cars we passed to pass the time (I counted 42!), until the SUV finally slowed down.
We turned into a driveway that looked more like a palace entrance.
I pressed my face against the tinted window.
We were parked in front of a building that reached all the way to the clouds. It was sleek, black glass, and gold. A massive sign above the entrance glowed in elegant cursive:
Velour Noir.
My jaw literally dropped.
Is this the restaurant? Is this a hotel? It looks like where Iron Man would live!
My heart started thumping. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Is he... is he that rich?
A cold shiver went down my spine, but not from the AC. If Mr. Samuels is this rich and powerful... how am I supposed to put him in jail? Rich people have, like, super lawyers! And laser sharks!
HUHUHU! This is going to be harder than I thought.
No! Aleesha! Stay strong! I slapped my own cheeks lightly. You have the Onigiri. You have the 48 Laws. You can do this!
The car stopped. The doors opened.
The men escorted me out. The parking lot was spacious and smelled like polished concrete and money. They didn't take me to the lobby; instead, they led me to a private elevator tucked away in the corner.
The man on my right pressed a button.
But not just any button. He pressed the button at the very, very top.
"One hundred?!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing in the small metal box. "There are a hundred floors?! That's so high! What if the cable snaps? Do we have parachutes?"
I looked at the men, hoping for reassurance. They ignored me. Again.
"Okay, shutting up now," I zipped my lips.
The elevator ride was smooth and fast. My ears popped! Pop!
Ding.
The doors slid open.
I stepped out, expecting a restaurant with tables and waiters and maybe a bread basket.
Instead, I stepped into a grand hallway. The floor was black marble, so shiny I could see up my own dress if I looked down (I didn't look down). The walls were dark grey, lined with weird abstract paintings that looked like angry squiggles.
It was silent. And cold.
"Umm..." I clutched my paper bag tighter. "Is the restaurant... closed?"
The men didn't answer. They just kept walking. I had to trot to keep up with their long legs. Clip-clop-clip-clop.
We reached the end of the hallway, standing in front of a massive dark oak door. It looked heavy enough to stop a tank.
One of the men opened it. He gestured for me to go inside.
I hesitated. "Mr. Samuels is in there?"
He nodded once.
Okay. Deep breath. Game time.
I stepped inside.
"She's here," the man announced to the room.
And then... SLAM.
The door closed behind me. I heard a lock click.
I spun around. "Hey! Wait!"
They were gone.
I turned back to the room.
"Hello?" my voice trembled a little.
I roamed my eyes around. This wasn't a restaurant. This was a house. A massive, terrifyingly beautiful house.
It was a penthouse. The far wall was made entirely of glass, showing the glittering city lights a hundred floors below. It looked like a sea of stars.
But inside, it was dark. The only light came from a fireplace crackling on the left wall, casting long, spooky shadows on the dark furniture. There were velvet couches, a thick fur rug, and shelves filled with books.
It smelled like expensive cologne, woodsmoke, and... danger.
"Mr. Samuels?" I called out, taking a tiny step forward onto the plush carpet. "I brought rice balls!"
No answer. Just the crackle of the fire.
"Hellooooo?" I whispered, hugging my paper bag like a life preserver.
Where is everyone? Why is it so dark?
HUHUHU. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.