Please read the Note at the bottom
“Welcome to LA, Mr. Cavanaugh.” The customs guy said as he handed back my passport. I grinned and nodded as I reached for my ticket into my favorite place in the whole wide world.
“Thanks man,” my deep voice echoed through the tunnel leading up to the main terminal where everyone was waiting to pick up his or her loved ones.
I had just recently landed in LAX from my abroad tour in Italy. My mother was editor in chief of Vogue Italia and she had me there with her to model for the men’s edition. I had been gone two and a half years, and now, I couldn’t be more excited to be home.
As my feet pushed me through the crowded airport I could sense that people were watching me. It’s just a feeling that I get. Not that I particularly care, it just makes me feel weird. My eyes traveled over a group of fine looking girls and I smirked.
“Afternoon, ladies.” I said swiftly as I nodded at each of them. Their own multicolored eyes practically raped me as I moved past them, causing my smirk to grow.
I made sure that my eyes lingered on them as I brushed past. All in a day’s work. These ladies were fine, and on a normal day I would’ve stopped and seriously considered going after one of them. Tall lanky blonde? Nah…I had a horrible history with blondes; however that red head…she was gorgeous. Eh, oh well, I didn’t feel like starting a chase.
Once I had long-since walked by them I started to hear the giggles and whispers about me. “Oh my God, did you see that guy?” “Trisha he was totally into you, you should’ve gotten his number!”
It was always the same thing. Everywhere I went girls fell all over me. Not that I was complaining, it just got old, repetitive. Being in Italy only made it all worse actually, I think. My skin was now a dark tan color due to spending many hours out in the sun. The contrast of my dark black hair and skin made my icy blue eyes pop out beyond all other features.
My trek through the parking garage was uneventful but I couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across my face when I saw my baby sitting there just waiting for me to drive it again.
The silver Maserati Gran Turismo, all shiny and new looking. Beautiful.
I was nearly jumping with anticipation as I pressed the button on my keys and the car beeped in response, popping open the trunk so I could cram all my crap in there.
Within minutes I was speeding faster than a bullet through all the outer streets of LA, heading towards home. My tunes were blasting, the strong beat of the rappers pounding in my ears. The windows were open causing the breeze to whisk through my charcoal black hair. By the time I made it to my aunt’s house I was in desperate need of a comb, and possibly some hair gel.
My Maserati stood out in my aunt’s neighborhood like a penguin in Africa. She lived in the outskirts of LA, about an hour from the heart of the city. Tia had a moderate sized house, after all she was providing a home to three teenagers, myself not included.
My parents weren’t exactly…first class.
The house was a two-story, five-bedroom, three-bathroom house. As I said, moderate sized. It was sided with red bricks and had a grey polished stone pathway leading up to the front door which had an elaborate stained glass portrait, made by my aunt herself.