Clients' consignments came in the next morning as planned. Nick's warehouse team and I unloaded all 26 boxes into the warehouse before the truck left the facility collecting more consignments according to areas. We arranged and clustered the consignments into its respective addresses before labelling them based on clients' details. Consignments arrived in a standard midi and maxi boxes and some are odd item parcels such as surfboard and motorcycle parts that aren't fit enough to be inside the designated boxes and will be transported to recipients addresses in some Middle East and Asian countries. Once labelled, we stacked them up on a pallet and secured them with 6mm jute ropes.

We arranged the pallets from left to right according to Nick's coordination and direction. At first we moved the first three pallets by the far corner but Nick cautioned us of the incoming batches which will arrive by noon. So the arrangement should be assigned according to regions. He directed us to move the Asian batch to the middle while the Middle Eastern stayed close by the entrance as they would be the first to be shipped out. Then he changed his mind, moving the Asian batches further inside the warehouse, anticipating incoming orders from Europe. We shuffled around left to right with the pallet jack obeying his order until I began to question the integrity of his leadership. My breath constricted from the cold morning air wafting into the property but I tried my best to refrain from asking questions.

But when he instructed us to break up Asian batches into Central and South-East, that's when I lost it and snapped at him, "Are you having fun screwing us around!?"

During lunchtime, I settled myself nibbling on my salmon salad while the office staff by the workstations gossiping with each other over some celebrities and former colleagues, completely ignoring my existence. I was glad they did, I don't want to be a part of their tea.

When Nick entered the room, their tea session faded into silence and they resumed their lunch quietly. Nick suggested to see me after lunch by the glass room but I insisted to have the meeting straight away, feeling the need to be away from the gossip gang.

We entered the room, he placed a copy of stapled document on the table and slid it across me, gesturing to me to sit where the document was placed.

"This is your employment contract," he informed me in brief. "I'm going to run through the first page with you, then you take this home, read the rest carefully and think this over before you make any decisions."

I gingerly scanned through the first few lines of the document and caught at the job title 'Personal Assistant.'

"I thought I was doing a transporting job," I demanded.

"Yeah, about that," Nick pulled out a chair by the end of the table to sit. "Since you're doing a terrible job of being a transporter, I am giving you this one instead. But you'll be called once in a while to mend the warehouse."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I suddenly asked in astonishment.

He gave a thoughtful pause before answered, "You came here for a job, so I'm offering you one."

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked.

"Because I am nice."

"But I thought you're notorious. I thought you're the gangster who's out there terrorising peoples' lives," I solicited.

"It depends on how you want to perceive us as. We're just normal citizens trying to balance off the economy and its corrupted structures."

"So, I get to join the squad?" I asked excitedly.

"No, I'm straying you away from my felonious life. And you're not allowed to discuss your work with my boys either," he clarified. "Your job would revolve around my academic, personal and some social life. Class schedules, due date of my assignments, exams, social gatherings, haircut appointments, charity dinners –"

"How about shopping? We can go shopping together?"

"No, I don't do shopping," he answered sharply. "It's either online or someone else has to do for me. So you'll be responsible for it moving forward, should you accept the job. Having said that, I also need all of your schedules or appointments so that it won't coincide with your duties. Are you still with that Scout Group?"

"No, I only completed my four-month term and it's over," I replied, leaving out the details of my estrangement with Milla. "I thought you could access my data?"

"Why should I hack the system when I can ask you straight?" he pointed out. "What's your class schedule like? Are they frequent?"

"They are but I have my Wednesday's off. Actually, I have a class today but I skipped so I could come here."

Hearing this, Nick swiftly picked up the contract and smacked it on the tip of my head like an authoritarian. "You shouldn't be skipping your class for whatever reasons. I'm a flexible guy and you'll be working on a flexible term within your student permit."

"Yeah, but I don't have to come to class if I'm sick or dead," I replied sarcastically, caressing the spot on my head where the paper had landed on.

"You're funny," Nick looked at me deadpan. "I should've offered you a joker position instead."

I signed the contract a day later, taking into consideration the flexi hours that complied with the 20 hour per week condition under my student visa and better remuneration package compared to Al-Safar's. Who wouldn't want that? I don't have to come to the warehouse, I can just work anywhere at any time even from home.

We synchronised our schedules in our phones and emails. He gave me access to his Blackboard for his academic matters which I need to monitor regularly for any updates from the university. And should I have the intention to sabotage his account, my Blackboard will be compromised.