A RICH, FRUITFUL laugh escaped the cherry-painted lips of a russet-haired woman that sat on the veranda of the coffee-house, slender legs crossed, defined chin raised. To the man opposite to her the sound was like music to his ears, the type that would sweep you off your feet in a ballroom. He listened intently, a look that every female desired to be looked at in such way etched on his rather handsome face, holding onto every word the lady declared.

From a distance you would think the woman's companion was of a mature age, maybe a little over twenty-five; on the contrary, he was hardly a man, perhaps fresh in college, but deeply attracted to the young lady in front of him, batting her dark, thick eyelashes at him. The boy was no stranger to manipulation, but now, he seemed as clueless as a blind man.

"Nate, my love," the woman, formally known as Isabella, began in hushed tones, her happy demeanor leaving in a matter of seconds — much to the boy's despair. "I have a business proposal for you. In fact, it's specially made for you. Oh, I could hardly contain myself! You'll never believe it."

"A business proposal?" Nathan Beaumont murmured, not quite concentrating, distracted as Isabella moved her hand to his. He focused on the rosy, scarlet color of her delicate nails, the exact shade of the glass of wine they had just ordered.

"It'll seem a bit rash, of course, the very idea of it, but its beyond worth it. Once you hear the number, all your doubts will fade away. You are interested, aren't you?" Isabella added in a more serious manner, lacing her fingers around his. Nate brought up his gaze to hers, blinking at her intense, blue eyes. It reminded him of a calm storm on a terrifying ocean.

"What do you suggest?"

"I know a friend of a friend, who's this friend of a friend, who needs a guy to handle his business for him. The time it takes depends on the guy, really, and how fast he does it can double the payment."

Nate had been looking for a job, so this point particularly intrigued him. "What's the job?"

Isabella held the wine glass in one hand, seemingly unable to hear him. "They provide transport, a bit of support, and a very, very generous payment..." She drifted off, pursing her red lips, and tilted her head slightly to the side. "Sorry, sorry, I'm a little bit ahead of myself. Right. The job. Something about helping this inmate—"

Nate interrupted her, suddenly wrenching his hand away from her. "Inmate? Bella, are you talking about prison?"

"Just hear me out," Isabella begged, seemingly hurt from Nate's lack of touch. He instantly felt terrible and reached out to hold her cold, pale hand. His fingers ran along her white diamond ring, a rush of distaste running through him. He hoped that one day she would toss it into the garbage and come to her senses.

"There's a man in the Crawford Local Institution that's been sentenced to twenty-five years of confinement. He's been there for fifteen so far. I think his name was Logan something, who went there when he wasn't much older than you. Apparently, some kind of agency needs him now — desperately — and they need someone to break him out."

Nate just sat there, waiting. Bella painted a pained expression on her face, sighing, running a hand through her glowing red locks. It was easy to give in to her shocking beauty, a tool that forced every man in the coffee shop to turn their eyes towards her. It was what drew Nick to her in the first place, unable to resist the temptation to learn more about her.

"I don't follow," Nate lied.

"You!" She persisted disparagingly, "you are that someone. Aren't you studying law in university? You can learn the layout of the institution, which I'm sure they'll happily provide you with, and escape with him."

"That's insane, Bella," Nate tried to laugh, chuckling weakly. "This is criminality we're dealing with. You're talking about a criminal serving more than two decades. Who even knows what the guy did? If he's there, he should stay there. Not to mention it's barely possible to escape alone, let alone both of us."

"Three hundred thousand dollars."

Nate's blood went cold. "What?"

"Three hundred thousand dollars, give or take, to enter Crawford Local Institution, take Logan, and get out alive. That's six digits, Beaumont."

For a second, Nate was looking at a different woman. She was wearing the same rouge cheeks, the same stormy eyes and the same dazzling earrings, but something was different about her now. The glass in her hand was at a dangerous angle, the wine nearly spilling out, barely sliding over the edge. Nate wanted to say something, but his mouth wouldn't move. The number was too high. Bella was right. All his doubts were slipping away like satin.

Suddenly, he remembered the job description. Institution. Anything could go wrong. The whole thing was stupid and reckless.

He looked away abruptly to avoid the disappointment in Bella's eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you pity me. I don't like it."

"I don't look at you like that.."

"Yes. You do. I don't think you're thinking straight, Bella," he said softly, averting his eyes to the stunning view of the city from behind the fence they sat beside. The sky was streaked with mesmerizing shades of orange and purple, spraying across the clouds, as if a painter took a brush and stroked the canvas with closed eyes. It was one of the better days in Crawford city, which is was usually portrayed with a black sky and buckets of heavy rain. Nate shuddered as he remembered the severity of the thunderstorm yesterday, wind threatening to tear his roof apart. "Why do you want me to take it?"

"Think of it, Nathan. There would be so much cash you'd be lying a bed of it. The bearer of news, Charles Michigan, told me he'd make the job so easy for you. Oh, you must think me the devil, urging you do commit an illegal deed. Just keep in mind that nothing's in it for me, darling, the money goes straight to you. I know you won't admit it, but you aren't in the greatest position wealth-wise, are you?"

Nate knew she was right, but he'd never confess it to her outright that if he lost his job in the governing center, he'd be in a sticky situation. His father lived under his roof, jobless, heavily relying on his son's pitiful income to pay the rent without getting off that godforsaken couch after recently quitting his job.

"How do you expect me to get in?" Nate hated the way his voice rose at the end, insinuating he would take the deal, when really, he just wanted to know how silly the whole thing was.

This seemed to perk his ladyfriend up. "The same way anyone gets in."

He was right. It was ridiculous. "Exactly why I'm not doing this. You want me to smuggle a fully grown man out of a mental hospital? Maybe I deserve to get locked up in there if I agree to this silly job offer."

"Just think about it. I told Charles that you'd do it."

"Bella," Nathan strained to keep his tone cool, becoming prone to Isabella's charm, "why would you do such a thing? Didn't you think to consult me first?"

The different Bella was back. "I thought you considered our relationship a priority."
"What are you saying?"

She looked surprised, and started gently. "Nate, dear, you know we can't be together unless I tell my family that you're a man of gold after being with my husband, an Abbott. To really convince them, you need to be...more tasteful than him." When she saw the sour expression on Nathan's face, Bella called a waiter. "Cheque please." The suited man lingered, taking a long, wandering look at her, then scurried away.

Nate scoffed. "He's quite taken by you."

"Oh, who can blame him?" Isabella purred with a small smile, straightening out her velvety-blue skirt. In two graceful movements, she swept a hand into her matching purse and lay out a wad of cash onto their table. "As I was saying," a long pause, "it's no use being a Beaumont in this world."

· · ─────── ·¤· ─────── · ·

By the time Nathan started walking back home, a dark blanket had fallen across the sky and kissed the tips of nearby buildings. The air smelled like wet pavement, a rather comforting scent, puddles of water burrowing into patches in the ground from the morning rain. As the young man walked down the street, he saw that the city was very alive on this saturday evening, clumps of people heading out of stores and plunging into traffic.

The walk was brisk and cold, a good fifteen minutes from the coffee shop to Nate's apartment. With his hands stuffed into his black coat and head slumped to his shoulders, Nathan Beaumont looked like a sad little man with nothing much to return home to. That statement was partially, if not mostly true.

He entered the flat and took the stairs as the elevator hadn't been working for two years now. It was the usual exercise, two steps at a time, seven flights up. Nate was amicably warm when he arrived to his floor, face red with effort, finding it the appropriate time to remove his coat despite the freezing air outside. He paused outside the door as he reread the evacuation notice taped onto the wooden surface for the third time. It was handwritten and scribbled on a scrappy piece of paper, almost as useless as the rent money he managed to gather in the past two months.

The first thing Nate did when he stepped through the door was call out his daughter's name.

"Seline?"

The soft noise of excited footsteps made its way towards Nathan. He smiled before even set his eyes on his seven year old, her tiny figure flying into his open arms. She let out an excited shriek as he whirled her around, still embracing her. "I'm dizzy, I'm dizzy!" She exclaimed, giggling. Nate slowed to a halt, dropping her lightly on the wooden flooring, feeling lightheaded with happiness, the same feeling surging through him every time he saw his little girl again. Diana, Seline's babysitter who took over whenever Nate called (on weekdays, that is) quietly approached from behind, a shy smile on her face.

"Hey, did this little muchkin behave?"

Now she smiled broadly. "She always does. Listen, Mr. Beaumont—"

"It's Nate, Diana."

"Sorry, Nate— I have my summer holiday coming up, and I'll be staying here in Crawford, so if you need me...call up any time. I could always use the pay."

"Thanks, Diana. You've been brilliant. You're welcome here anytime."

Seline bounced around Nate's legs as the three made their way back to the door. He dug into his pocket and gave her extra cash, earning an even rosier blush from her and a cheery goodbye. He'd met the ninth grader in a park who instantly got attached to Seline about nine months ago, and quickly got into babysitting her for a small price. Nathan knew her family wasn't in the best financial position, much like himself, which is why she welcomed herself into his household more than usual. It wasn't a problem, especially when he wanted to go out for errands or meetups, and he had come to the realization that his daughter needed some kind of female in her life, especially with her mother gone.

Seline looked up hopefully at old clock hooked onto the wall, her auburn curls bouncing in its ponytail. She couldn't read time yet. "Is it PonyValley time yet?"

She asked, eyes widening at the mention of her favorite TV show that came on every night at eight o'clock. Nate sighed, internally wincing at the time. Ten minutes to eight. The animated show revolving around ponies was more tedious than the local news reports displayed every night. "Yep. In a bit."

Seline kept looking at him hopefully.

"Alright, alright, popcorn coming right up. Plop yourself on the couch and switch the TV on, and go to channel 27. Can you do that?"

They spent the rest of the afternoon gazing at the tiny screen that played the two twenty minute episodes about ponies and their flawlessly matching riders. Well, not both of them.

Nathan grabbed a paper file lying on his makeshift desk in the living room and dumped himself on the couch, beside Seline. He opened the folder and read the statements on the page — another request from his boss, Floor, to get a brand new hotel design done. He planned to expand the Milford Industries by creating a whole new outer spectrum with the business involving services and hotels. Nate read the requirements and couldn't wait to start, tossing a glance towards a very sleepy Seline before beginning the task. He brought out an A3 piece of paper and artfully created the outline of a hotel with seven stories that wouldn't leave his mind. His nimble hands skimmed over the paper, paper bereft beneath his fingers, ruler poised at his demand as he opened the gate to 3D shapes and floors. The whole process took him to a peaceful place, somewhere that satisfied his creative bursts of imagination.

He forced himself to stop at five minutes to nine, a sudden thought killing his streak of adrenaline, and instead, he found himself wandering out of thought and back to Isabella. He dropped the pencil, laying his palms face down on the table. Her silky red hair, troubling eyes...

And then there were the three hundred thousand dollars, waiting to be picked up. It was madness. Nathan knew it. How would he manage to sneak a mentally ill patient out of a high-security institution? It didn't matter and he knew it. Three hundred thousand dollars would have any sane person do absolutely anything, and if that weren't the case, Nate would regret it the second the eviction notice on his door came to bite him in the back. And Seline. He had to always think of Seline. They needed the money, and helpless engineering at home would never be enough.

Nate couldn't help it. He picked up the nearly asleep Seline from the couch, hands behind her back and legs, feeling a little surprised as he tumbled underneath her weight. The little girl flinched in his arms.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry." He tenderly touched her previously injured ribs, feeling pain slice his heart. The pain never seemed to numb away. "Did I hurt you?"

"A little bit," Seline winced, slowly opening one eye.

"Shh, stay asleep. You're going straight to bed."

"But PonyValley..."

"Is over. You finished two episodes back to back."

After he gently lay her on the bed and covered her, he sat on the edge of her bed, eyes half closed. He puts a hand on her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeats. It settled him. Images blotted across his mind, flashing in seconds, memories that squeezed his chest and forced the walls to move in on him. He almost couldn't breathe. The noises of that hour seemed to rewind in his head like a broken record player, like needles of steel piercing his happy memories. They seemed to be quickly disintegrating in his hands, disappearing until there was nothing left but that terrible, terrible day. Like ashes in the wind. Like the sweetness of Seline's Sour Patch candies fading into nothing but sourness.

Bella promised that this Charles guy would give him everything he needed. Maybe all he needed to do was hear him out. He forced himself to breathe, casting a final look at her sleeping daughter. She looked so serene. Nate would do anything to keep her that way.

Nate walked into the living room where his old telephone sat on the work desk, right beside his architectural drawings, hand wavering above the telephone, trying not to overthink too much. It was too compelling, too blinding, the thought of three hundred thousand wads of cash tucked into his account. It was just a phone call away.

Nate dialed Isabella's number with shaking hands. For Seline.

"Hello, this is the Abbott residence speaking. To whom would you like to speak to?"

"I-I-" Nathan could barely get the words out. He tried again. "I would like to speak to Bell—Isabella Abbott. Is she available?"

A short pause. "Just give me a minute." He heard shuffling in the background, a couple of footsteps, and a thud.

"Dina, dear, could you please give me a moment?" Nathan assumed Isabella was redirecting her maid. "Thank you. Beaumont?"

"Isabella."

"It didn't take you long to cave in," she said sultrily, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"You're right. Goodbye."

"Okay, okay, don't get your pants in a twist. Meet him tomorrow at the train station, the one beside Crawford Park. He says he'll meet you at nine AM sharp. Don't be late. He's an impatient man."

Nathan immediately wanted to take his phone call back and end the line but he could already hear the inept giddiness in Bella's tone. "I'm really glad you're doing this, Beaumont. You're the best candidate for this job. Don't mess this up. It took a lot of persuading to get Michigan to give you a chance. He'll do anything to test your loyalty tomorrow, so promise me you'll go along with it."

Nate released a long breath and whispered, "Jesus."

"Will not help you in any of these situations. But you're not on your own, not when Charles Michigan is involved. I believe in you."

"That's very comforting," he replied, sarcasm bleeding from his tone. "What's this Charles Michigan like?"

"Oh, he's a jolly fella. Very stylish. You'll see for yourself soon."

"Wait—" Nathan started, about to confide in her and admit that he couldn't do this. Instead, he went for a different approach. "Where will Seline go if I go off on this...task?"

Bella went silent. Then, "there is no if, Nathan. Not after this phone call."

Nate thought this was the first time in a while since she used his full name. "Bella, my daughter. I'll need to know if she'll be in good hands."

"Isabella?" Nathan heard a male's voice in the background. Mr. Abott.

"With me," Bella replied urgently, as if she were eager to put down the phone. "I'll take her in. She'll love the house. She's a little darling. I'll sort something out with my husband."

"Sort something out? She's my life, Bella."

"I know, Nathan," she said slowly and quietly as if for once in her life she took the issue to great importance.

"I can hear it," Nate said softly.

"Hear what?" The impatience in the fiery redhead was back.

"The pity. It's back."

More shuffling in the background, the male voice popping up in the distance once more.

"I need to go. Pleasure doing business with you, Beaumont," she added in a hushed voice, and the line went dead.