iii. in which we catch a glimpse of oliver york's uneventful life

• • •

"WE ALL HAVE secrets, and I just happen to know hers. She struck a deal with the devil, sold her soul for some records. She's a sin on two feet, there's lust in her shoes. My condolences, boy, but she has her sights on you."

Suppressing a groan, I tried my best to block out the muffled sounds of the music currently blasting into the ears of the customer seated directly in front of me. He seemed to be around my age, if only younger. White headphones cradled his head, filling his ears with instruments and lyrics while simultaneously blocking out the rest of the world - myself included.

The barely audible noises were starting to give me a headache, only because the café was always dead silent during my shift - besides the normal conversations being held over a cup of Joe. I preferred it that way.

"Excuse me?" A small voice dragged my irritated glare away from the teenager to the little girl on the other side who was barely as tall as the counter. She gripped the edges of the booth, using her toes as support to peer over at my work space curiously. I made my way over to where she stood, grabbing the small towel perched on my shoulder to wipe my hands.

"What can I do for you, little lady?" I greeted her with a friendly smile despite my irritated mood, draping the towel back over my shoulder. I placed my hands on either side of her fingers, leaning down to see her face. She seemed to be around five, with golden locks pulled back into two braided pigtails to match her yellow sundress. Her bright smile reminded me of Elliana, even though this child was a few years younger than my little sister.

"My mommy wants to know if you have any more sugar packets. She says our table is all out." The little girl explained with a tiny lisp.

"Sure thing, kiddo." I nodded and ducked down to view the storage compartments just under the counter. From the years I've worked at Java the Hut, I practically knew every nook and cranny. In the space between the boxes stacked precariously against each other, I reached in and grabbed hold of one of the spare sugar packets.

I stood back up, hearing small cracking noises on my back as I stretched back to my full length. "Here you go," I announced, bending over the counter top to hand the packets to the little girl.

"Thank you!" she chirped and grabbed hold of the sugar before skipping back to her family's table.

I let out a sigh and leaned lightly against the coffee machine, closing my eyes for a brief second, knowing that I could relax for a few minutes. Business at Java was always slow, mainly because we were in a smaller location in the already-small town of Somerset. Customers were mainly locals who needed a morning cup of coffee to keep them awake for the day. Since the café was one of the only businesses around besides the grocery market, some kids hung out here instead of the freezer aisle down in lane twelve. I couldn't blame them, Java was everyone's escape from the grip of society.

With its vintage walls and classy decor, Java the Hut seemed to spiral you backwards into time, back into the realm of good music and gelled hair. The store was styled as a cozy, little area - wall ornaments included famous posters of classic rockstars against the old, flowery backdrop of the walls. There was an antique jukebox in the corner that didn't play, but gave off a refreshing vibe that added to the musical theme.

Towards the back was a small, elevated stage surrounded by potted plants. A microphone stood in the center, and a solitary acoustic guitar situated itself in the back corner. If only we used it, or actually, you know, played music here. Circular tables were scattered towards the center of the café, most near my coffee counter, while red, leather booths pressed themselves firmly against the windows.

Next to my counter was a rectangular glass display case that held various pastries and baked goods. Sometimes I wondered if Christa only placed that there in order to taunt me during my shifts.

"Son, I'll give you some advice, that woman is bad news. She'll rip out your heart and tear it in two."

My eyes snapped open in disbelief as I managed to catch the kid from earlier turning up the volume on his music player. Suddenly, the words in the song were clearer and louder, making me shake my head. I didn't know who the artist was, or what song was playing, but I wanted the noise gone.

"Hey," I called over to him, not budging from my position by the machine. Arms crossed against my chest, I fixed yet another glare in his direction. The boy didn't reply, merely bobbing his head in time to the music. I doubt he even heard me.

"Hey," I tried again louder. There was still no response. Pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration, I dropped back from the coffee dispenser and strode over to the music junkie. From this distance, the sound of music was even louder and I could almost feel the vibrations coming off him. I simply stood in front of the boy with an agitated expression, waiting until he glanced up and fixed his dark grey eyes on mine.

"What?" The kid muttered, sliding off the pair to hang them around his neck. I could still hear the sound of some female singing in the background and for a second I was distracted until he waved his hand in my face. "I said, what?"

Blinking, I narrowed my eyes as I focused on the kid's face. He was tan, showing his Mexican heritage. His black hair was spiked up at all angles, while his eyes remained impassive at my face. Shaking my head, I said, "Your music's too damn loud. Either lower the volume or get out."

"What's your problem? It's just music, man." He frowned.

"I don't care what it is, just get rid of it." I gritted my teeth, losing my regular employee cool.

"Why should I?" The kid retorted in a scorning tone, which made me throw up my hands in exasperation.

"You're disrupting the peace!" I ground out, slamming my hands on the counter. Instantly, the few heads in the café turned to give me curious and annoyed stares. I ignored them all, too aggravated by his music to fully react.

"Looks like you're the one disrupting the peace," he muttered, scoffing in disgust. "Fine, I'm leaving. But you just lost a customer," He glanced at the white name tag attached to the green apron around my waist. "Oliver."

With a final dark look my way, he stood from his seat and stormed over to the door, where he slammed it open, causing the little bells above the threshold to ring like mad.

I sighed again, running a hand through my naturally messy brown hair, probably ruffling it into a tangled mess. My gaze caught the glint of a silver milk container and I examined my expression. My hair really was a mess but I made no attempt to fix it. Instead, I frowned at the dark bags located under my blue eyes and my reflection immediately copied. God, I looked miserable.

"Oliver, what was that noise?" I heard Christa's voice coming from the kitchen, and soon enough her head emerged from the opening in the door.

I hummed, not responding right away. I dragged my gaze away from the container in order to meet my employer's unconvinced expression. Her blue eyes rolled as she pushed past the door. Her messy, gray hair was tucked behind both ears and she had both hands placed on her hips in disapproval. A green apron with the café's logo and name on it, the same exact one I was wearing, was placed over her light tan dress.

Christa vowed never to tell anyone her age much to her embarrassment, though I could tell she may be around her sixties. Not only did she act like my grandmother, but she would tell me stories of when she first started working at Java when she was only sixteen. Her father was the creator of the establishment, and she was the first employee.

"Oliver, speak up boy," she commanded, waving her greasy spatula in my direction.

Casting my gaze away, I muttered an unintelligible reply, hoping she would take it as a reasonable answer and return to the kitchen. Instead, she turned up her hearing aid and repeated herself. "What did you say, dear?"

Reluctantly, I faced in her direction. "We lost another customer."

Christa lowered her spatula with a huff and jutted out her lower lip. "Honey, that's the fourth one this week. Let me guess, they were listening to music? Just like the last three customers to skedaddle out that door?"

"Bingo," I muttered, tapping my fingers on the counter. Christa knew of my extreme dislike of music, and she would tolerate it most of the time - unless I was scaring away customers.

"Lord Almighty, Oliver you can't just explode on everyone who walks in with earbuds in their ears. Why, if you were back in the day when the boombox was invented, you would've never escaped from music's clutches."

"Christa, this is the twenty-first Century."

"And you think I don't know that? With all these new cellphones and darn technology and fancy schmancy internet, it's kind of hard to miss. But sweetie, you're missing the point." Christa walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder, cracking a sympathetic smile. "Just because you can't enjoy music doesn't mean you have to make everyone else stop enjoying it too."

I stopped tapping my fingers on the counter and just squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I didn't mean to scare the kid away, and I didn't mean to frighten the others too. But I just couldn't enjoy music anymore, and it hurt too much to listen.

"Why don't you head back home, boy? Your shift's almost done anyhow. We can close up early today. What do you think?" Christa mused, squeezing my shoulder. Unable to form a coherent sentence at the moment, I just nodded blankly. Christa released her hold with a sigh and headed back into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, I found myself staring back at the seat where the boy from earlier sat before. Grimacing at my previous actions, I untied my apron and got ready to close up shop.

• • •

As soon as I reached the front door of my house, I was instantly met with the sound of delighted shrieks coming from the other side of the door. I took out my keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside and taking off my shoes. "Guys, I'm home!" I shouted into the hallway.

"Oli! Oli!" I heard the frantic footsteps hitting the hardwood floor until my sister came dashing around the corner, running through the hallway and tackling me. All I managed to see before the impact was a flash of her golden hair. Her sudden weight made me stagger but I didn't fall; instead I scooped her into my arms and began my trek into the kitchen.

My house was small, but not to the extreme where we were all piled onto each other. There were only two floors: the main floor and the basement. My room was changed to the basement ever since Elliana was born, but I didn't mind. I always had always been more solitary and was content with being alone. The house was coated in a warm, brown color - except for Elliana's room which was bright pink.

Entering the kitchen area, I caught a whiff of my mom's homemade spaghetti and a small smile formed on my face. "Hey, Mom," I greeted, and she glanced up from the pot, smiling tiredly. Her light brown hair was beginning to grey, much like my father's dirty blonde top, and she was already dressed in her nightgown.

"Oliver, I didn't hear you come in," she apologized, turning her attention back to the stove. I shooed away her concern, not even that upset. Mom was forgetful and utterly clumsy, so I learned to live with it.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, setting Elli down on the ground. She pouted and tugged at my pants, wanting to be lifted up again. I just shook my head at her. It was a miracle she was even born, since my parents didn't know if they were still able to bear children. But even with the ten year age gap, Elli and I were pretty close.

"Ah, he's in the dining room, setting up the silverware. Can you go help him? Dinner's almost ready."

"Sure." I nodded, skirting around my eight year old sister and past the archway leading into the dining room. My dad was already situated in his chair at the head of the table, and he glanced up when I entered. The table was already set, and Dad looked proud of that fact. He liked to take the opportunity to do as much as he could, liking the feeling of doing something after eight hours cramped in a cubicle typing away. His blonde hair was messy, and his work suit was rumpled and worn-in.

"Just got in?" Dad asked in his gruff voice, scratching his belly as he chuckled at me.

I smirked at my old man, replying back coolly, "Seems like you did too."

"Touché."

"Oli, Oli!" Elliana whined, continuing to tug at my sleeve. I had almost forgot she followed me in here. "Oli, watch NBB with me! Please? Oh, pretty please?"

Wrinkling my nose, I pried her hold off my shirt and shook my head. "I told you a thousand times, Elli. I don't want to watch that show with you." NBB was her favorite show; apparently, it was some reality show about a national Battle of the Bands. Hence the creative acronym: NBB.

I despised that show, not only because some of the bands probably sucked major ass, but because it kept dangling former dreams in my face and reminding me of something I just wanted to forget. Not to mention, I would have to listen to their music.

"But don't you want to see if Chasing Avenues win or not?" she complained, grabbing my arm and jumping up and down.

"Not really. I don't even know who they are."

"Oli!" Elli pouted, shaking my arm vigorously.

"Come on now, Elliana. Leave your brother alone," Dad scolded gently from his spot, frowning at his daughter.

"Daddy, will you watch it with me then?" Elliana dropped my hand and turned to Dad with a wide grin on her face. I almost laughed at his surprised face, but bit back the snickers.

"Daddy would love to," Mom's voice cooed as she entered the room with a steaming bowl of spaghetti. Dad switched his shocked gaze to my mother, who just kissed his forehead with a smirk. She left to get the bread and salad as Elli cheered at her mini-victory.

After we all got situated and ate to our heart's content, I took a bite of my remaining salad and swallowed slowly, contemplating my question. It was a thought that was constantly nagging at my mind, besides the imminent questions of "where does my future lay?" and "where do I go from here?"

"Mom? Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Mom asked distractedly, frowning and swatting Elliana's hand away as the latter played with her food.

"Did you.. did you hear anything about her yet? How is she?" I asked slowly, setting my fork down. My heart beat painfully in my chest as I waited for their answer.

Mom exchanged a glance with Dad before turning back to me. "Honey, nothing's changed. She's still exactly the same way she was yesterday." Her worried gaze made me squirm and I rose from the table abruptly, nearly spilling Elliana's apple juice.

"Can I be excused?"

"Oliver-"

I didn't wait for my mother's reply as I wiped my face with my napkin and headed for the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, I jumped over the last three before rounding the corner and catching sight of my bed. Still unmade and messy, it was a warm welcome that I gratefully accepted as I fell onto the cushioned mattress. My head shifted to the left as I looked for the half-filled milk jug on the desk beside the bed.

I reached into my pockets and counted out the amount of money I received from tips before sinking the coins and bills into the jug. Behind my makeshift piggy bank were at least three other filled gallons, but I still didn't have enough to barely pay for my college fund, Elli's, and the bills for the hospital.

If only the past hadn't happened, then I would still be enjoying the feel of a guitar in my hands, and the sound of melodies in my ears. I wouldn't be worried sick about a certain person, and I would still have my friends, my brothers. Most importantly, I would be listening to music, instead of hating it with a passion. But that was all behind me now. The past wasn't something I could just toil over for days upon end.

I would keep working at Java until I could pay for everything, then get a degree from Stanford, get a real job, a house, a wife, two-point-four kids, and be happy for once. This was my second chance, now was I going to take it?

My eyes skimmed tiredly around my room until they came to rest upon a familiar cloaked object, covered by one of Elliana's old Dora the Explorer blankets. The sleek shape of the instrument was noticeable, but it didn't pain me as much to see than when the Gibson was uncovered.

With a loud groan, I threw my head against my pillows and forced myself to fall into another fitful night of sleep.

• • •

So, now we get an insight into Oliver's point of view. For all you My Little Decoy fans, did you catch the references? Beautiful new cover is made by my good friend, Abona. Ain't it great? :) Gif of Oliver York on the side. Song of the chapter is Helicopter by Bloc Party.

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-Isabelle