Ian Cros

My back was sore from the tile floor. I tossed the tennis ball against the window, catching it while it bounced back to me. I hurled the ball harder, hearing the echo of the glass bow from the force. It was day three of being stuck inside.

A terror shivered down my spine as the elevator door dinged. In panic, I crawled across the floor, hiding behind the couch, hoping Robert didn't want to visit me.

"Ian, honey," a woman's voice filled the silence.

"Mom?" I asked, poking my head above the couch.

She spun around, giving me a fake, exhausted expression. Her arms waved above her head with her purse flinging with it. The young lady beside her ducked away from her bag while holding two suitcases.

I stood and rounded the couch to her. "I didn't expect you today," I said, glancing at the girl.

My mother wrapped her arms around me in an open hug. "Oh, Ian, my boy," she said with her fingers pointing upward, forcing an unnatural look. "Put my bags in the back room to the right," she said toward the girl. "And get my other bags in the car."

The lady rushed down the hallway, bumping the suitcases into the wall. Her maid uniform told me her job wasn't helping my mother with her bags.

"Where is Paul?" I asked, watching my mother set her purse on the kitchen counter. "Why did you pull her from her job?"

The maid lady walked around the corner while my mother fished into her purse. She pulled out large bills, handing them over to the lady.

"There will be more once you bring me my other bags," she said, raising a brow.

"Mother," I said, looking at the girl. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you need to return to your job."

Her dark eyes looked at me. "It's okay, this happens a lot."

My mother let out a loud laugh. "See, my boy, Ching is okay." She glanced at the girl with a hand gesture. "I'm sure back in her home country, she'd be sweating in a hot factory making shoes."

I scrunched my brows together, placing my palm on my forehead.

"My name is Hannah, and I'm from Detroit." The girl glanced at me with a confused expression.

"Sorry," I glared at my mother, who didn't even acknowledge her wrongs. "I will get my mother's bags." I walked over to the counter, grabbing more money from her purse. "Let me pay you for not getting the bags and running away."

Hannah giggled while holding the apron connected to her uniform. I rushed to her, tucking money into her pockets while pushing the button for the elevator.

"Thank you," I said to Hannah while the doors opened and helped her step into it.

She did a shy wave as the doors shut. I turned to face my mother. "Why are you that way?"

"What?"

"You don't see how racist that was?" I scratched the top of my head.

"Who?" she replied, grabbing a wine bottle from the cabinet and spinning to get a glass. "Oh, my God!" she yelled.

I jumped while I watched her stomp to the gift on the kitchen counter I had not opened. She shook her head, pouring red wine into her glass. The smell filled the air while I tried to guess her next move.

"You didn't open my gift," she said, gulping down the glass in one breath.

"Sorry." I glanced out the window, seeing the sun shining on the building across the way. The melting snow fell in clumps while liquid dripped. "I've been busy."

She grabbed the ribbon on the bow, pulling it loose. Her long fingers pulled the top of the box off and tapped her nails on the metal device on the inside.

"It's a top-of-the-line coffee maker." My mother filled her wineglass again. "Brandi and her husband just got one, and she said it plays music."

I walked backward away from her, stepping near the elevator. "Thank you, Mom," I said, pushing the button on the wall. "I'm gonna go get the rest of your bags."

She nodded, pointing at me with her glass to her mouth. "I thought Ming would do that."

I lost all expression on my face while the elevator opened. Without a word, I stepped into the box and pushed the button to leave her behind. The elevator shook when touching the main floor and opened the doors with a ding.

As I walked to the lobby, a group of teenagers hung around the front desk. Eyes scanned toward me, watching me stroll to the parking valet.

"Ian!" a youthful voice yelled, but I kept moving. "Ian."

A hand grabbed my wrist, and I looked to see Isabella with an enormous yellow coat on. She smiled brightly at me, readjusting the ice skates around her neck.

"I've been trying to reach you all morning, but the brainless man behind the counter kicked me out." She held up two fingers. "Twice."

A loud bang caused me to bring Isabella closer to me while the teenagers laughed from making the noise. A boy sat on a chair, dangling his head and pretending to be killed. I relaxed my shoulders, picturing the dead man in my head. His blood dripping slowly down the glass window while he begged for me to help him.

"Sorry, Isabella," I whispered without meaning to. "I asked him for no visitors." I met her eyes, feeling my chest tighten.

She tilted her head, jumping to press the back of her hand to my forehead, but only smacked my chest. "You look pale, Mr. Billionaire." Isabella crossed her arms. "Have you been eating?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "And what's it to you?"

She tapped her skates. "Well, I was hoping to go ice skating, but it's lame to go alone."

"I'm sorry, but—" I said, but my eyes caught Robert entering the lobby, stomping to the elevator. "On second thought." I grabbed her shoulders, guiding her to the door. "I will join you."

We walked our way through the city streets toward the Rockefeller Center. The snow melted into water, filling the drainage system in New York quickly and flooding the streets. I placed my hands in my coat pocket while Isabella stayed close.

"So why didn't you want to see anybody?" she asked, rocking her head to a tune in her mind.

"I was sick." I lied.

"No, you weren't," she replied. "You are looking at the pro at lying to get out of things, and being sick is the number one lie."

"But—"

"Ah," Isabella said, stepping before me and walking backward. "Now tell me." She placed her hand on her chin. "Was there a stalker?"

"Besides you?" I questioned back. "No."

"Did you get in trouble again by the parents?" She let out a little giggle, causing the flyaways around her cheeks to dance.

"No." I glanced past her, seeing we were close to our destination.

"You killed a man," she whispered in a joking voice, followed by a loud laugh.

I froze and looked at her while she spun and saw the ice rink. She ran toward it with a giggle echoing off the tall buildings. Her yellow winter coat puffed around her body, seeing an enormous sunflower on her back while she skipped away. Typical for her, since a sunflower matched her so well, bright and warm.

"Are you coming?" she yelled over her shoulder with zero patience.

"Yes," I said, running after her.

We entered the building with a man behind the gold desk. His expression faked a smile to me before clapping his hands when he saw Isabella. He rounded the desk, crouching to hug her.

"Isabella," he said. "Looks like you brought a guest, or is this a new man sitter?" The guy air-quoted.

Isabella giggled. "This is Ian," she said, glancing at me. "And Ian, this is my very gay older brother Justin."

Her brother held his hand out as I took it. "Nice to meet you," he said, eyeing my body. "And when she says very gay, she doesn't mean it in a bratty little sister way. I am gay."

"Nice to meet you too," I replied, removing my hand.

His eyes widened. "Wait, Ian," he said, looking at Isabella. "Like as in Ian Cros."

I smirked, waiting for him to look back at me. He shook his head in shock before brushing his fingers through his hair. Justin patted his upper legs, peeking at me with red cheeks.

"Okay, let's get Mr. Cros some skates." He walked away.

Isabella grabbed my arm, pulling me to follow Justin. We went to the backroom full of skates. He grabbed a pair of black ones, handing them to me with confidence on his face.

"These should fit," he said, glancing toward the front area. "Now, you know not to stay longer than an hour, Isabella. I'll see you at family dinner tonight," he said, leaving us.

I sat on a bench with Isabella, removing my shoes to put on the skates. She did the same while her coat flopped over her face. Her round eyes glanced at me when she laced her skates.

"Justin is my half-brother from my dad's first marriage. He is old enough to be my father." She stood, pointing out a doorway. "My dad doesn't like being seen in public with him."

"Sounds like my dad," I replied as we made our way to the ice rink.

"Yeah, but your dad doesn't like you because you are a delinquent." She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Mine doesn't like Justin because he likes guys."

She stepped onto the ice, gliding away from me with perfection. She spun in a circle before floating back to me. Isabella held her hand out for me while I shook my head.

"I got this," I said, stepping onto the ice and stumbling with my arms waving around.

Isabella busted with laughter, holding her stomach. She sped around me, doing circles while I barely moved forward. An older couple glided past me, holding hands while they kept a rhythm to their skating.

I straightened my back, exhaling with each forward movement. "I'm getting this," I said while Isabella sped by me.

She spun around, skating backward before me. Her left leg lifted in the air behind her as she bowed. Giggles escaped her lips while she skated like a pro.

"Show off." I rolled my eyes.

She stopped suddenly, causing me to lean too far back and slip onto my rear. The ice froze to my palms as I slid to the wall with embarrassment. Pieces of ice stuck to my pants, and Isabella skated up to me, spraying me with a mist from the rink.

"You aren't good at this," she said, skating away from me.

"Not very helpful," I replied, watching her smoothly dance around people as she floated around the rink.

I slowly stood up, keeping myself near the wall. A younger girl skated past me with her maroon coat. She stumbled forward, landing on her tummy as the red spread across the ice.

My mind flashed to the dead man, bleeding on the floor. His lifeless body while they beat him to pieces. The blood splattered over my face, painting horror.

"Are you okay?" Isabella's voice brought me back to reality.

I had my hands on my face while she glanced at me with concern. I looked at the girl on the ice, standing up and laughing.

"Yeah, I need to sit down." I turned toward the entrance to sit on a metal bench.

Isabella grabbed my wrist, helping me to the edge. "Are you sure?"

"Don't worry about me," I replied. "Go have fun. Remember, you only have an hour."

I sat on the metal bench, placing my hand on my cheeks and leaning forward. A shadow walked past, sitting on the chair with me. A deep clearing of a throat had me glancing over to see Paul.

His eyes met mine as he shook his head, holding a phone toward me. My throat dropped to my stomach as I grabbed the cell and placed it on my ear.

"Hello," I whispered.

"Ian," Robert said with anger. "I had warmed you already about the little girl."

He hung up the phone while my eyes glanced around. I kept the cell to my ear when I spotted him above the rink with his arms crossed. He glanced at Isabella before shaking his head and walking away into the crowd of people.

"Ian," Paul said with a sad voice. "You need to—"

"Stop!" I yelled at him. "Leave me alone!" My anger boiled over. "I don't want to become him! I will never be that man!"

Paul stood from the bench, looking at his feet. "I hope you are right." His accent deepened with his sentence before he walked away, tightening his hat securely to his head.

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