Chapter 2: CHAPTER 2 - UNEFORSEEN CONVERSATION
Bryan hesitated for a moment, staring at his vibrating phone. It had been years since anyone other than the newspaper boy or the building owner had called him. After all, who in their sound mind would waste their morning routine to call a good-for-nothing orphan? Probably just a spam call, he thought to himself. Ignoring the call, he reached out to grab his t-shirt and went on to preparing a steamy coffee. The aroma of freshly ground beans filled the small kitchen, offering some solace from the distraught void dream he had just experienced.
The walls of his cramped living room seemed to close in on him, painted in faded beige, and the sound of traffic from the street outside occasionally filtered through the thin windows but large enough for a boy who was 17, reckless of the outside world or in other words didn't care much to think about it. The place itself seemed like heaven to him, who is still unemployed, when many of his age have taken up reputed jobs. The kitchen was nothing better. Rusted with an ancient touch, the kitchen now smelled of fresh coffee.
But then, as if on cue, the telephone shrieked, and a strange rush of adrenaline pumped through him, making him spill his coffee on the already messy carpet floor. You might think it's weird for one to get so hyped up to hear a telephone ring, but not for one who doesn't get any calls rather than the one's from his nasty owner who barges in to get his monthly rent.
Cursing out loud, he placed the cup on the table and went and picked up the phone, vowing to tear apart the person on the other end if it were to be a spam call or just a random New York comedy prank show representative.
Bryan: "Hello?! Do you know what's the time?! It's literally 5am in the morning!
Irritation laced Bryan's voice as he couldn't help but wonder why anyone would call him at this hour. He felt a mix of curiosity and frustration, his heart still racing from the phone's sudden shriek. What could possibly be so urgent at this ungodly hour?
A voice so fragile yet stern and commanding boomed in through the other end.
Arnold: "Greetings, young man. I do know what's the time in New York since it would be embarrassing if a police officer didn't know the time he was to report to work".
The words cut sharper than knife into his brain. The distraught dreams he had kept coming back like foams on the beach side. His temples started hurting again, and it was more like he wanted the earth to rip open into two and swallow him down. How he wished he hadn't picked up the call. With trembling hands, one not with fear but with rage, he tried to make out words to reply to the other end.
Bryan: "POLICE???! EXCUSE ME?! IF YOU ARE TRYING TO PLAY WITH ME THEN LET ME TELL YOU THIS AIN'T THE TIME!
Arnold: *gave a low laugh* I quite did go through your medical reports and understand how you are feeling but I need to meet you immediately and why dont we discuss further over a cup of cappuccino? And listen young man, this ain't a request but an order!
Before he could reply any further, the line got cut and the ambience went silent. He couldn't believe what just happened, that for a second he thought he was being delusional. His mind was fumbling to process everything that happened. A strange call, a man who claims to be a police officer, and weird of all wants to meet him in person to discuss something. As if to tickle his brain more, a message popped up on his WhatsApp from an unknown number. 'Venue: Majestic Theatre, 245 West, 44th Street. Time: NOW!'
Bryan: "What the hell..."
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