Lay started it. While everyone was already around the dinner table about to serve themselves, she wanted to go ahead and leap to conclusions.

"Oh baby," she snickered like a pig. "Zay's got a boyfriend."

But even before I managed to get into the dining room, I had to explain to countless guards around my family's estate that 1) I was not being held hostage (even though I felt like I was at times); 2) please don't shoot the black kid (cops get enough bad rep for this, don't need that karma passing onto security guards); 3) I didn't want to talk about the hairy blindfold (because it wasn't really any of their business anyway).

After managing to get Ashton through the frontier of the estate alive, I felt like I would be spending the next 24 hours protecting him rather than the other way around. Having him stay for dinner was one thing. Staying the night was another. How would he be able to keep track of me keeping my blindfold on if we're in separate rooms, or worse, if he's killed by my parents for even suggesting he stay the night in my room?

"You have your own town?" Ash sounded like a kid meeting Santa for the first time. "With basketball courts, a pool, and is that an airstrip?"

I ignored him as I focused on keeping him alive. Somehow, I managed to get us to the front door without my eyesight (after all, I came back often at night), and without getting Ash accidentally killed along the way.

I made an announcement to the whole house as loud as I could the minute I walked through the door. "Mom, Dad, I brought home a friend for dinner."

I heard my mom's high heels walking towards us. Her voice sang like a lullaby. "Aw darling, this is the first friend you ever brought home. You should've warned me, I would've had the maids tidy up the..."

Her voice dropped as her footsteps entered into the main vestibule. "Um, darling. What happened to your eyes?"

"Nothing mom. I just got roped into a dare that's all. And a Mata never backs away from a challenge, right?"

My mother paused for a second. Considering I couldn't see her facial expressions, I wasn't sure what she was filling in the silence with. I could only imagine her studying Ash like he was a stray cat who wandered in through the front door.

"Hi Mrs. Mata," Ash spoke beside me. "I'm Ashton, Zay's best friend."

Since when did I promote him to best friend?

"Well it's lovely to meet you Ashton," my mother's footsteps clamored over towards me as I heard her cheek kiss Ashton. His grip tightened near my shoulder, telling me he wasn't used to the European style of greeting. "Come have a seat in the dining room. Dinner is just about to start." She paused for a second and I heard her bracelets jangle like wind chimes. She was definitely wriggling her wrist towards me. "And guide Zay to the table to satisfy her little barbarian dare she's undertaking."

Ash guided me behind the click-clack of my mother's high heels. She never wears anything but high heels. I bet she even wore them in the shower. I knew she definitely used them for her contracts. Some people call her "Pump-Puncturer." I'll let your little mind imagine how she killed people with her high heels, because whatever you imagine, I'm pretty certain it's nicer than what she actually does.

That's when I heard Lay immediately squeak like a pig and claim that I had a boyfriend. I would've murdered her right there if I didn't hear someone put down his fork and knife, undo a serviette that was probably wrapped like a bib around his tie, and push his chair as it scraped along the floor. "Is that so?"

My father took his steps with leisure. It was like those of a panther approaching a dead prey. I felt Ash's arm shake around my shoulder. I felt his pulse shooting bullets of anxiety through the throbbing of his hand. My father could be an intimidating person, even when he didn't show anger. Stack up his career as an assassin (or a murderer, the lines between the two really tends to blur), and he was one fella you didn't want to honk at the minute the stoplight turned green.

I reached for Ash's hand and patted it. "He's just a friend, dad. Lay's just teasing me." I said the last sentence while gritting my teeth towards her and trying to contain my instinctual desire to throw whatever hot food was in front of me at her barbie doll face.

"Lay there's no need to be jealous," my father said with the smoothness of orange juice going down a sore throat. "So far, Zay's the only one to bring home a friend. It shows she has a social life."

He might as well have tossed trash at Lay's face because I smelled her stank face. Much like me, Lay had a similar issue of making friends, even while she was at college. For all her charms and looks, boys did not gravitate towards her after one of her past boyfriends mysteriously drowned in a private pool while playing Marco Polo with her.

"The name's Savage," my father introduced himself. I felt Ash take his hands off of my shoulder with much hesitation as his pinky nearly hung on for dear life. I'll admit, my father's name wasn't very welcoming. "But you can call me Mr. Mata."

"Yes sir," Ash gulped.

"Now," my father walked a couple of paces back to his chair. "Let us dine."

Ash guided me to my chair and sat next to me. I smelled the air to see what we were having for dinner. The flare of baked biscuits dominated the air, followed by something fried.

"Ashton," my father said Ash's name after overhearing him introducing himself to my mother. Few assassins are deaf. "Be a gentleman and serve my daughter's plate."

"Yes Mr. Mata," Ash mumbled. I'm pretty sure if I could see Ash's face, it'd be paler than usual. It felt good to have him recognize who he was dealing with. He probably never thought about this when he tried roping me into his gang.

Ash turned to me, "There's biscuits, some cutlet, and mash. You want all three?"

"No cutlet," I said, and he went to work serving my plate. As he did so, my mother started asking questions.

"Ashton dear, when did you enroll into Crown's Academy?"

"Just this week ma'am," he said as he slapped down a scoop of mashed potatoes.

"Best friends in under a week I see," my mother commented. Yeah, I know, I wanted to slap Ash too for making such a statement like that in front of my mother who investigated things meticulously.

"Well, I'm her only friend to be precise," Ash found his voice a bit. "She's not very popular."

"Haha!" Lay snickered.

"Shut up Lay," I bit back.

"And which school did you transfer from?" My mom quieted the both of us with her question.

"Pope Francis School—ah damnit," Ash cursed. "I'm sorry Mrs. Mata. I'll clean it up."

Leave it to Ash to ruin everything. The boy couldn't even serve a plate without making a mess. Yet, he somehow got the jump on me. I still couldn't believe that.

"Don't worry honey, I'll have one of the maids clean the gravy. Why don't you change seats?"

I felt a small breath of wind pass behind me and sit towards my right. He was now next to my father, sitting in my older brother Ka's seat, but he was on some international assignment.

My father took over the questioning when he thought aloud, "I wonder how a kid from Pope Francis Catholic School in the working class down south finds his way into Crown's Academy elite school. I'm not one to make assumptions, but I imagine your parents played all of their cards right to get you into such a great academic institution."

At this Ash seemingly paused for a second. His voice croaked a bit as he said, "My parent."

My mother gasped. "Oh honey, we're sorry for assuming..."

"It's fine," Ash muttered. Then he tried to steel himself. "My father just got a new job a couple of months ago. I bet you've heard of him."

This was not going to go over well. I decided to cut ahead and do some damage control. "His father's Mayor Dayton, the new Chicago mayor. Isn't that cool?"

My mother had nothing to say, which was surprising. My sister sucked her teeth. Framing the Mayor's name in good light in this house was like trying to switch on CNN in the living room and not expecting the TV to have a remote lodged right in the center of it.

My father chuckled. "Ashton, that's wonderful news. You must be so proud of your father. I hear he's really making a difference stamping out corruption and money in politics. He's increased my taxes," he let this hang in the air. "But I suppose if it goes towards helping those in need..." he took a crunchy bite of the fried cutlet and swallowed. "I don't mind seeing my taxes go towards charitable causes."

I wasn't sure what my father's facial expressions were saying at that moment. I was pretty sure it was a mixture of frustration with the glare of realization that an opportunity to clamp back control over the city had just waltz in through the front door and spilled gravy all over his marble floor.