Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Work was finished and Owen headed home. He pedalled his bicycle through the city streets, the clock striking three in the afternoon. His hands on his lap, eyes up front, he pursed his lips and racked his brain.
'Should I ask my boss for a temporary pay raise? Something like, "Hey, I need some money rent is increased!"' He sighed. 'Nah, never. The company is rich but cheap as hell.'
He rode into a gas station for a quick pit stop. He took out his phone and messaged.
> Owen: gonna get something from the gas station. Ask Big-O if she wants something
> Isabella: Big-O says chocolate
> Isabella: I want gun
> Isabella: I meant gum
'Phew. For a second, I thought I had to be careful at home.' Snickering to himself, he went inside and bought the small snacks. He opted out of a bag since he had a large basket at the front of his bike.
Back to pedalling it was. It made for great exercise in all honesty. He smiled and hummed as his hands went from the handles back to his thighs.
A couple minutes later, he noticed a scene unfolding on a street corner. A girl in her early twenties was being hit on by two mafia members. Up until a year ago, mafias and gangs ran semi-rampant in the Bay. In particular, there was a crime family, the Ferraris (not affiliated with the car), that ran several casinos across the country and ruled underground fighting tournaments with an iron fist. The Bay was where their headquarters were and, in many of the locals' opinion, the sole reason for the lingering activity in the city. People thought if the Ferraris were gone that everything would be fine and dandy again.
They were correct. Once the Ferrari's eldest son was caught up in a kidnapping scandal, the family was forced to scatter and abandon the Bay. Now, all that remained were members wanting to abuse whatever little authority they had.
Slowing his bicycle, Owen's keen eyes assessed the situation. The guy on the street used to be a part of the Ferraris. His advances seemed forceful, and the girl appeared uneasy as she waited for the bus.
"I-I just want to get to work," she muttered.
"Oh, come on! You should…uh, patiently wait for your bus. Yeah, go on. I'll, ah, skedaddle."
The girl blinked as the man ran away. She didn't notice as Owen rode past her, smiling softly.
Gangs and mafias were none of his business though. What was his business was home and paying rent.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned his head back.
"Shoot…should I have picked up some milk too? I think Ophelia drank a little extra yesterday…"
***
'They're actually awake. Consider me impressed.'
Usually, the girls got up at three. Not today. Today, they wore their big-girl boots and got up early.
In the slim kitchen, Owen chuckled while flipping pancakes on the sizzling griddle. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as he expertly cracked eggs into a bowl. Across from him was a window displaying the living room, including the upper portion of the television and the two figures on the sofa at the back.
Isabella and Ophelia, sitting on the sofa in their pyjamas and onesie respectively, were engrossed in a WuTube video essay on the food industry. Specifically, how American markets encouraged obesity and caffeine and all things not healthy.
Owen chuckled. For him, it wasn't a big deal. To them, it was like their world had shattered.
Well, specifically, Ophelia's world. Her opinion of America was a bit skewed due to Owen's stories.
With a deft hand, Owen plated a stack of golden pancakes and poured maple syrup over them, fresh from Canada (or so the label said). He exited the kitchen and placed the plates on the living room table, creating a breakfast spread that mirrored a scene from a family sitcom.
"Ophelia?" Owen snapped a finger and the young blonde broke from laser-focus on the video.
"Oh, pancakes!" Ophelia yanked a plate to her lap and eagerly and messily took a bite. She didn't bother with knives, simply opting with a fork and bringing a side to her mouth. "Thnks yshhu, Owshh!"
"You are most welcome." Owen took a seat on the neighbouring couch. A two-seater that was connected to the longer sofa and let him out his own plate on the joined armrests. While Ophelia had her legs stretched, eating like a goblin, Owen and Isabella sat and ate patiently.
An audible gulp came from Ophelia as she paused the video and turned to him. "Fun fact: fifteen million Americans suffer from life-threatening obesity!"
"Doesn't sound all that fun," Owen replied, stopping to listen to her.
"It isn't! Oh, man, we need to do something about this! According to the studies the scientists did, a kid sees two ads about a fast food restaurant every single day. That's crazy! They wake up and see unhealthy food and they go to sleep and see it too."
"Your plan then?"
"Close all fast food restaurants!"
Owen pretended to think about it. "How about Taco Tell?"
"Except Taco Tell!"
"And Burger Queen?"
"That one too."
"Isn't that one too many exceptions?"
"Okay, okay, so maybe not banning all fast food restaurants but most." Ophelia crossed her arms. "Wait, how about this? How about we ban ads?"
'She sure likes to ban things…'
"What happens if your favourite goes for sale and you don't know about it because there was no ad?"
"Ahhh, you're right! Owen, you really are smart." She blinked and turned, a bulb going off in her head. "Hey, you should come up with a solution then!"
"Uh, hm…Isabella, want to brainstorm?"
Her response was quick and toneless. "You can't brainstorm without a brain."
Ophelia snickered. "Ha. You don't have a brain then?"
"Not after all the pointless cipher coding I did." Isabella closed her eyes, suddenly depressed. She bashed her head on the sofa repeatedly. "My brain is melted."
"You'll get 'em next time," Owen tried to comfort.
"No, I won't."
"No, she won't," Ophelia quipped, before realizing what she said. "Wait, no, I meant…like…encouraging."
"Too little, too late." Isabella slumped against the sofa. "I'm a dumb-dumb head."
Ophelia pursed her lips, then cracked a smile. "Heh. Dumb-dumb head."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone