The Marked One (The Marked Series Book 1)

by Chevoque

  Heading out, as Mr. Dennis-Patrickson led Mr. Young, who was in fact not so young, to the office, he whispered in passing, “Just wait for me.” A few seconds later, he walked to his desk. “You need the information of your new employment.” The way he was smiling showed that he could tell she had actually forgotten about all the other things when the date came into mention.

  She felt embarrassed when she realised she was in such a blissful state that she’d nearly left without any details. “I’m far from being in my right mind right now.”

  He grinned at her. “Well, here are all the documents you’ll need.” He handed her a stack of papers with the top showing the Gerardo Research and Rehabilitation Laboratory’s information and he continued giving her more need-to-know things, like how to get there and what to expect. Right before she was about to leave, he placed a business card on top of the stack of papers. “It has his private number on it, and I am glad that you have accepted the offer.”

  “The job or the dinner?” She sounded cocky, even to herself.

  He beamed back at her. “Both. He is odd, but you’ll see he has good intentions.”

  “I think I just found my source in finding out more about him.” She pretended to contemplate something with a smile. She found Ivan pleasant because he was kind, forward, and looked like he could be interesting to hang out with.

  “Dear, he’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just be yourself. He already likes you.” She arched her eyebrows. “What? There is no point in hiding it while I’m the one who will be planning your dinner date.”

  She felt her cheeks flaming up. “Okay…this is awkward. I think I’ll leave to freak out somewhere else. Don’t worry if shrills come from the elevator,” she confessed.

  “I like you,” he said and led the way to the elevator, an arm once more slung around her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dennis-Patrickson,” she said formally.

  “Ivan will do.” The elevator arrived and she stepped in. Right before the doors closed, he said, “Don’t hide how beautiful you are, Aaliyah.” For a moment she was confused but let it slip her mind. The day was going too perfect to worry about petty things—even the good ones.

  ***

  Flash Republic and Foto Na Dans were singing Afrikaans, as she sat on her crappy couch, trying to drown out the knock-knock of the hammer meeting the nail as Vera’s husband, Pietro, slammed a wooden board where the hole was on the outside. He was doing it a little later than what Vera had originally mentioned, but hopefully it would stop the rats from moving so freely in and out of her place.

  “What on Earth are you doing?” her father asked the moment he picked up the phone. “Is it chicken flatties you are preparing? Because it sounds very loud.” She had been so busy preparing for the following day that she only came back around six, nearly forgetting to let her father know the good news.

  “Hello, Daddy.” She was smiling to herself.

  “Hey, pampoen. Now what is that noise? I’m missing your cooking very much, so please say food.” He truly sounded distraught.

  “You might have a problem,” she teased. “It is sadly just the landlord fixing something outside,” she said, not wanting her father to know she found a dump, but she had already loved it too much. Especially now, as the sun was setting and the rays fell through the window right onto her, sitting on the couch. “I called to tell you something other than that though.”

  “You found a job?” He didn’t mind to make sure that he sounded utterly disappointed.

  “Yes, but…in a lab, for Gerardo Corporations,” she said, excited.

  “Pampoen, that is amazing.” This time he truly sounded pleased. “But how?”

  “Long story short, I met Tristano Gerardo today. Daddy, he himself hired me.” I’ll leave out the dinner and the rest…for now.

  “Wow! And I feared that you’d need to come back home, disappointed that things didn’t work out.” He was slapping the “butter” on thick to show his fake disappointment.

  “We both know it is what you would’ve preferred.” Her cheeks hurt due to her excessive smiling.

  “Because you were doing something you didn’t really love. Now though, hell, pampoen, this is so great. Do you know what your responsibilities will be?”

  “Not yet, but I’m starting tomorrow. Do you remember Madeline?”

  “She’s your only friend. How could I not?” he said a little sadly.

  “Well, she sold one of the paintings with me on and now she is going to do more of them…with me on.” Her father kept quiet. “You think it is a bad idea?” she asked, a little worried.

  “No, I just wish I thought of having you drawn and selling your pictures earlier in your life so you could’ve realised how beautiful you are.” She only sighed. “Now tell me why this Mr. Gerardo himself wanted to see you?” Her father sounded like a real interrogator. It didn’t help that he had worked for the police in his younger years as a detective.

  “Uhm, the people I interviewed with yesterday didn’t follow correct procedures, and I was called in for a sort of makeup interview.” She squinted as the sun’s rays lowered in her window. “Wait, I forgot about the time differences. It is probably—”

  “Pampoen.” He used his serious father voice. “What are you hiding?”

  “Uhm…well.” She sighed and with her intake of a well-needed breath, she spilled the beans. “I am going to see him again.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “For a date. Kind of. I think. Say something.”

  “Just be careful and don’t forget who you are,” he said far too easily.

  “Just like that?” She was baffled.

  “You are smart enough to know people with money think they can get what they want, and you’ve been through enough to know how to take care of yourself. I know you are smart enough to see the bad ones coming from kilometres away. You’re a grownup now. You can handle anything.”

  “But I still feel like a kid,” she whispered.

  “I told you, you could stay with me until you are forty, but you insisted on doing your own thing, so that is your loss,” he teased her, clearly just wanting to help keep her spirits up.

  There was a real knock at the door. “I think Madeline just arrived.” She found her feet and walked to the door. “Thank you, Daddy, and I love you. Now go back to sleep.”

  “Don’t forget me when this man becomes more important.” Her father didn’t say that he was worried, but it was clear that her tone—likely sounding too excited—gave away how she was handling it all.

  She opened the door to find Madeline looking like she was in shock. “No man will ever be more important. Good night.”

  “Love you, pampoen,” he said with a heavy sigh and ended the call.

  “Before we get to this mention of a man…what the hell were you thinking when you chose this place?” Madeline looked beyond repair with shock.

  Aaliyah smiled at the mean-looking Mr. Martinez. “Thank you for fixing that.” He grumbled something and she quickly closed the door.

  “Seriously, this is freaking serial killer paradise.” Aaliyah led Madeline up the stairs, without a word. “What are you doing?”

  “Just move your bum,” she said. Passing her at the landing of the staircase, Madeline complained about the unmade bed but Aaliyah ignored it and opened the door.

  “Cheese and crackers!” Madeline dashed out. “This is insane! Okay, I get why you got this place, but the place is a—”

  “I like it and I’m the one who lives here,” Aaliyah said defensively.

  “Fine.” Madeline frowned. “So what man will not be more important than your dad?”

  “No one.” She turned and walked back in. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Uh-uh, buddy, I see that face.” She darted down the stairs. “Tell me all. Is he hot? Oh, is it your boss at City Lights Marketing where you did the interview?” Aaliyah made a face and Madeline continued, “Okay, just a guy working there?” Aaliyah
made a disagreeing sound. “A fucking security guard? I don’t know how they look these days.”

  Aaliyah took a deep breath. “Mr. Gerardo himself interviewed me.”

  Madeline’s face turned comical. “The old guy? He is married!”

  “No! Not him! He has a son.”

  “Ah, thank God! Not that he is bad, but dear heavens, talk about a scandal.” Madeline was animated now.

  “So have you got a few ideas—”

  “Now, wait a moment.” Madeline stopped her, hand in midair, her mind clearly not in the right place. “The dad is really kind of not bad even for his age, so the son must not be either?” She looked at Aaliyah, clearly craving details.

  Aaliyah smiled. “He is kind, made me feel okay about who I am, and I felt comfortable around him. It is so strange.”

  “You think? Since I’ve known you, you’ve barely dated and when you do, the assholes always had issues with…has he seen your special mark?” Madeline looked a little more concerned.

  “Yes, he said I shouldn’t hide.” The words sounded unreal.

  “My fuck, who would’ve thought it would take a rich man to see true beauty?” Aaliyah shook her head, “Buddy, this is amazing.”

  “I’m really not liking the subject. Let’s move on to the one of me being yours,” she said, rummaging through the fridge for something to drink.

  “Momentarily.” Madeline thought for a moment. “Do you guys have a date?”

  “Yes, Friday, now please—”

  “You haven’t told me about your job?” Madeline persisted and showed that she wanted the red instead of the white wine. “Glasses?” she asked and grabbed two glasses from the locker, after Aaliyah showed her which.

  “I’m starting tomorrow as a lab technician for the Gerardo Research and Rehabilitation Laboratory at the marina, close to the aquarium and zoo.”

  “That is amazing. Hell, you are getting it all,” Madeline chirped.

  “I am getting nothing yet. And maybe Mr. Gerardo isn’t as kind as he’s seemed so far.” Aaliyah couldn’t trust too easily. It was one thing about herself that made her miss many things in life, but it was all part of protecting herself from pain.

  “I’m sure if you are having a date you can call him by his name,” Madeline teased as she took over pouring the wine when Aaliyah clearly took too long in doing so.

  “It might not even be a date. It might just be dinner. He asked to have dinner,” she defended.

  “Exactly, it’s a date,” Madeline said as she put the wine away. “He’d ask for lunch if he wanted it to be casual business.”

  “That is a stereotype. People can have dinner casually and lunch intimately.”

  A mishevious gleam came to Madeline’s eye. “Have you thought of him intimately?”

  “Maddy!” She immediately felt an awkward warmth of embarrassment cover her entire body while Madeline held her head back in laughter.

  “What? In my imagination, a man with Italian anything is fucking fantasy land.” They moved to the couch and slumped down onto it in synchronicity, just like how it was when they’d lived together. Both took a sip of wine and admired the view.

  “Can we just get to the paintings?” Aaliyah asked. “Now, or not quite yet?”

  “Fine, but is this place reachable for pizza? I’m hungry…for Italian.” Madeline’s suggestive tone and brow wiggle made Aaliyah chuckle. Sometimes Madeline was a bit of a handful, but she kept everything enjoyable. She went to grab their favourite pizza place’s menu off the refrigerator and tossed it in Madeline’s direction. “Yay, at least I can also have some Italian then.”

  “Maddy, please, stop. This is going to kill me if you go on.” It was a pure whine.

  “Fine, fine, but can I Google him?” She looked like a child asking for a treat before dinner.

  It caused Aaliyah to almost choke on the sip of wine she had in her mouth, “Are you insane? That's like stalking. I’m sure some dictionary would agree with me.”

  “How else are you going to find out more about him?” Madeline asked, more serious than what Aaliyah found usual and also just a bit weird.

  “By getting to know him…the normal way. The human way. The pre-Internet way,” Aaliyah said with a frown, feeling a bit disgusted by the idea if the tables had been turned.

  “At least just tell me his name so I can do it later,” Madeline pried.

  “If you do it here, I’ll kill you. This serial killer zone doesn’t have place for loonies the likes of you.”

  “I won’t. I promise. I’ll go home and then do it.” Madeline smirked. “I’ll get it on the Internet somewhere anyway. At least tell me so I’ll feel less guilty when I do Google him.”

  It was a losing battle. “Fine, Tristano.”

  Madeline sighed in delight, as she was still carrying a smile that meant she was far from done. “I’ll order the pizza, and after I’ll tell you my plans while we wait.” Surprisingly, she kept her word of letting it be.

  After the order was placed, she crossed her legs, set her wine glass on the floor, and turned to Aaliyah. “So I only have two ideas so far.” Aaliyah felt like a disapproving mother with the look she gave Madeline. “We still have time, damn it.”

  “Fine, tell me.”

  “Okay, but will you please come to this exhibition?”

  Aaliyah sighed. “I need to be there, exposed, I assume, so the people can see how great of an artist you are?” Madeline only smiled. “You can be glad I like you, because it sure as hell isn’t going to be fun.”

  “It’ll be fun. You’ll see. People interested in art aren’t as shallow-minded as those who don’t understand that beauty’s origin is uniqueness, and that, my dear friend, is the pinnacle of what you are.”

  Aaliyah just shook her head, seeing no point in arguing with Madeline, who would only shut her down.

  Madeline shifted around, finding an odd sitting position that made yoga look like child’s play, before she continued, “Okay, how do you feel about writing a letter about how you feel about your special marks? How other people make you feel about it? Or the things they have called you?”

  “Pissed off. Not happy. Really disapproving of the idea.” Aaliyah shrugged. “Likely violent.”

  Madeline made a face. “I have this idea of simple black and white script that covers a sketch of your face and then things in this letter, message to the world if you will, will be emphasised in different colours. Like names or feelings. I’m still figuring that one out.”

  “The idea I’m getting isn’t bad. I just…I’m not sure about what I would write, and it’s almost worse than The Marked One’s origin. This is going to be far more personal.”

  “You’ll get over it,” Madeline reached for her wine and took a sip. “I’ll work on the basic part of getting your face on it, using one of the photos I still have.” Aaliyah sighed and nodded in defeat. “And then I have a mirror idea of your face’s left side.”

  “The mark is gonna look like a crippled butterfly?”

  “Exactly! That is the title I thought to use.” Madeline paused. “Not the crippled part, just the butterfly part.”

  Aaliyah pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, stopped, and looked back at Madeline. “Fine. Is that all you got so far then?”

  Madeline jumped up and walked to the fridge to fill up her wine glass again. “Yeah, for now. I’ll figure out the next two once we get there.”

  “Please fill mine as well.” Aaliyah held her glass out in Madeline’s direction.

  “Oh.” Madeline took the glass and looked at Aaliyah. “Congrats with the job. I’m proud of you.” As wild as Madeline was, she was one hell of an amazing friend, and Aaliyah had to fight the tears of appreciation teasing against her eyelids.

  Chapter Four

  Aaliyah walked up to the door and looked at the sign: Gerardo Research and Rehabilitation Laboratory. She smiled to herself, still unable to believe that her luck had changed so much since she had began searching for work in
the city. She was still overwhelmed with awe that Gerardo himself had employed her, or at least made these things happen.

  She would never do as Madeline had suggested, to search his name online, to find out more about him, but it was tempting, as she wished to see if this man, who claimed to want to see her exposed, was a kind soul in other areas as well. It wasn’t that she was in love and felt like swooning at the thought of him, but she was already appreciating the fact that there might be a person out there who would accept her and her birthmarks.

  A man rose behind the desk of the reception area. It was small and minimalist with aquariums and terrariums already giving the idea of something great taking place within the building. “Good day. Ms. Labuschagne, I presume?”

  Instinct made her want to cover her face, but the makeup was already in place, so she hoped the reason why the man was assuming it was her was because they didn’t get many visitors. “Good morning, and yes, that is me.”

  His pale face lit up. “Welcome to Gerardo Labs. I’m Stephen.” They shook hands, and he smiled at her with shimmering, central heterochromia brown-green eyes that were filled with excitement. “I will give you a quick tour and introduce you to some of your mentors, whom we might bump into, and when—”

  She did a double take. “Sorry, mentors? You probably mean the professors and doctors I’d be working for.”

  “Mr. Gerardo has asked me to not elaborate too much, but he said that a new paid student—that will be you now—will come today, and for the next few days you will just be introduced and allowed to settle, but next week you will basically continue to study. Dr. Ramadan will be able to explain that part better.”

  Her heart was beating out of control. This was her dream and now it was being handed to her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was very appreciative, but it felt wrong, as she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  “You look a little in shock. Should I get you something or can I continue?”