Chapter 1
IT SMELLS LIKE...worn-out frying oil, a bit of sweat, and even a spritz of cheap pinewood cologne. The boy scrunched his nose in slight disgust, all of the scents reminded him of the nights when his uncles and aunties would come over for the holidays and order fried chicken. But he was no longer at home. There would be no more nights where the adults would pinch his cheeks, telling him how much he's grown since the last time they've seen him.
He did not know their names, except for a few. Aunt Marnie, Uncle Harry, and also his cousins, Louis and Larry. He'd only be able to recognize those four because they often came over for the summer to mooch off of his mother's cooking, especially when she told them about her three-day, triple layered, four cheese lasagna.
Uncle Harry always liked to grab seconds, no, thirds even, when his mother cooked. He'd chew with his mouth open, as he sat next to the kid's table. Even though he'd been kind enough to hardly interact with him, he and Uncle Harry did not get along well. But still, he admitted to himself that he would miss the days he and Louis and Larry would play for hours in their backyard.
Before he felt way too mushy, he cracked the remaining shards of his grape flavored lollipop with his teeth, slamming his copy of the weekly superhero comic issue shut, opening his backpack. A large cup of Coca-Cola sat next to his hand, nearly toppling over.
As he raised his hand, he was still relentlessly chewing on an empty lollipop stick. He frantically looked around, getting a glance at the other customers in the diner. There were only two other people, a fat man eating a cheeseburger, and another young man who must've fallen asleep. Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven" played softly in the background, and no other sound could be heard.
"Jackie!" He called out. "Jackie!"
"Yes, Danny?"
The waitress appeared from behind him, hands on her hips. She was young, slim, and in a teal blue 50's waitress uniform, with her blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail. On her name tag, it wrote "Jackie" with messy handwriting.
"Can I get a strawberry milkshake?" Danny asked.
Jackie sighed. "Aren't your parents worried?"
"I told you, I want a milkshake. Strawberry please."
She pursed her lips in frustration. "Danny."
"What?"
"I asked you if your parents are worried," She continued. "You come here, what, two or three times a week and nearly stay the whole day, by yourself. Not to mention you always have a ton of cash on you. It's not normal for a kid to do this, you know?"
"I know." Danny seemed unfazed. "And no, my parents are not worried."
"It's summer. You should be out playing with your friends. Or I don't know, helping out, staying at home?"
"Ugh, no, I don't wanna do chores!"
Jackie laughed awkwardly, facing away from Danny. The situation seemed a little ridiculous, she was a woman in her early twenties, babysitting a twelve year old while she worked in a nearly stranded diner that virtually became a bathroom stop for drivers. Though she was only nagging him now, inside, she felt the growing weight of uncertainty in her gut. But she was not this boy's mother. No matter how anxious she would become, this was not her son, her brother, or anyone she really knew. So, she reached for the grease-stained notepad in her pocket, writing down "strawberry milkshake, regular."
"Okay, okay. I'll be right back."
Danny peered up at the clock. It was only ten in the morning. His eyes examined the sign below it, it read, "Betty's Diner, proudly serving you since 1952."
"Damn, that's old." He thought. "They're very old."
The black and white picture showed three men standing in a corn field.
"I wonder where those guys are now. Maybe they're dead."
Just when he decided on flipping open his comics out of boredom, the bell at the door jingled.
Ding.
There was a young woman standing in the door wearing sunglasses and a light and frilly white dress. She'd looked as if she'd jumped out of a dreamy picture book, her lips were stained with red, her auburn hair was loosely tied in a bun, and when she took off her sunglasses, her green eyes were like leaves swaying under sun rays. Deep green speckled with gold.
Even the customers who'd previously been minding their own business stopped to stare. Jackie came out of the kitchen, notepad in hand, tightening her ponytail.
"Hi, sit wherever you like."
The woman walked, her footsteps barely audible even in the quiet restaurant. She sat across from Danny in the booth table.
Now, Jackie's eyebrows were raised. The two looked nothing alike, but there was a possibility this was a distant cousin who'd come to pick him up—the boy did mention his rather large family—but she kept her mouth shut. The last thing she would do is to stick her nose into their business, and she wasn't getting paid enough for that.
"Welcome to Betty's," Jackie handed her a menu. "I can get you started with a drink if you'd like, unless ice water is fine."
"I'll just have a black coffee. Thank you."
The woman gave her a friendly smile. Jackie nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
Danny stared right at the woman, his eyes boring right into her's.
"Are you going to stay and eat?" He asked.
"No. After my coffee, I must get going," Her wary eyes scanned the table. "Well, haven't you been pumping yourself full of sugar?"
"What! No I haven't," Danny tried to deny it, but when Jackie came back with her black coffee and his strawberry milkshake, he pouted in defeat. "Okay, maybe I have."
"Well. No matter. I should tell you what I am here for, then." The woman held something in her hand. It was an ivory colored envelope with a red wax seal. Despite its elegance, something about the letter seemed empty and dull. Like something important was missing.
"Danny, you do understand that you might have a target on your head by now, do you?"
He nodded vigorously. To the woman, it seemed like he did not understand.
"Getting involved any further might put yourself in danger."
"I'm not a little kid. I can make my own decisions."
The woman, for the first time, felt a twinge of pain sting her heart. Danny was twelve years old, the age where he was still very much a child. Children his age liked to go outside, play games, and hang with their friends, but the boy in front of her had ran away from home.
For what reason, she may never understand.
"Alright then, Danny. Then, I shall leave this envelope to you. Keep it in your backpack," She pushed the letter towards him, which he quickly stowed away. She also brought two dollar bills, leaving them on the table next to him. "You must not open this letter. You must not read the contents inside. It is strictly confidential. Do you understand?"
"I do. I do."
"It holds very important information. I'll need you to deliver this to a man named Milo Sterling. He'll be in a house in Newark. 634, Kings Street. Make a left and head down the alleyway, once you see the sign for a Chinese restaurant in red. Reach the end, then turn right, there should be a door. Knock twice, wait, then three times. Milo Sterling should be inside at nine in the morning. He's blond, with a scar on his chin. Can I trust you to remember all of that?"
Danny had rolled up his sleeve. On his forearm, there was messy scribbly handwriting from a ballpoint pen.
634 kings St, Chinese red sign, left alle y way, right, knock 2, then three
"I'll remember. You can trust me." He smiled at her.
"Okay. Then, I must get going. Danny, be careful," The woman stood up, putting on her sunglasses. "I'll see you again."
"Wait!"
She stopped in her tracks before she'd fully turned away from Danny.
"What is it?" She asked, her eyes darting to the other customers in the diner.
"Can I know your name now? We've talked a lot. You know me, so I was hoping that I can call you by a name. Please?"
The woman couldn't help but feel her lips lifting at his childish request. But it was one she couldn't adhere to at the moment.
"After you deliver that letter Danny, I will tell you."
