| 18+ |
A grieving student-detective and her bilingual Italian heir.
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐲 - She is a hard-working college student studying to become a detective after her mother's unexpected death. The cops labeled it a suicide, but she knew be...
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The sun was beginning to set as I sat on the balcony smoking a blunt. I rarely smoked, but it was highly recommended by the nonexistent therapist in my head. When the past or unwanted emotions started to randomly rush to the surface I used cannabis as a way to avoid the pain, stupid I know.
The group and I were going out to a nightclub in proximately twenty-eight minutes. While waiting for three girls to get ready, and you can imagine how long that might take, I had nothing else to do but think about memories I didn't want to remember. So as the wait grew more dreadful as my thoughts, the blunt on the table next to me began to look more and more like comfort.
After taking one last puff of the blunt, I raised my head to blow the smoke from my mouth into the humid air and then watched it as the gas slowly disappeared. Burning out the lit end of the blunt on my tongue, I spit the ash out and placed the rolled-up weed on a circular tray. I stood and walked toward the glass double-door that led back into the house, before opening the entrance my eyes peered inside to see a large dog with his tongue sticking out from panting.
My dog.
"Come here, boy," I said once letting myself into the mansion. The Rottweiler wagged his tail rapidly when I stepped foot inside and bent down to his level. He ran into my arms and aggressively licked my face, crying with joy the moment I pet him.
"Look who's finally home. You been a good boy, Chop?" My pets became excessive the more he got excited over my words, which answered my question perfectly. Man did he miss his daddy.
I gave him one last pat on the back before standing up and adjusting my coat. He gazed at me with his dark puppy eyes that could most likely identify as guilt-tripping itself. A sigh left my lips when I realized what he was trying to do.
"I'm not staying home just because you've been gone for a month." The sentence instantly made him pout and turn away from me, wanting to make me feel bad about my doings. He's been at a training camp/program for dogs that teaches them how to behave and defend their owners. But Chop didn't need much of the defense part since he literally chopped off a man's arm for touching Katalina without consent, hence his name.
And that was the first day we got him too.
Although I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my evening with my dog, who is more of a companion than Christian, I couldn't just cancel on the others. Not after my dinner announcement, but the idea of leaving him behind troubled that cold less heart of mine. He's been gone for a while now and here I was heading out already without giving my time to him. The look in his eyes was brimmed with sadness, somehow knowing my decision before I informed him.
Dammit.
Grabbing a key to my bedroom from the coat's pocket, I ordered Chop to follow me. As he was quick to listen we entered my quiet and lifeless room. I walked toward my bookshelf which had one shelf specifically made for him and grabbed a treat from a jar. Throwing a hard bone at him, he caught it mid-air and hurried out of the room until he was far away from me. That should keep him busy for a bit, hopefully, for the whole time I'm at the club.
