Mirage | 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣

Chapter 2

"Where did you learn to sing?", I asked him as soon as he slowed down and we calmed down. He still was holding my hand and was dragging me to somewhere that was oddly familiar for me.

"I've always known how to sing", he said, offended. "Don't you remember our karaoke nights?", he asked as I rolled my eyes.

"That doesn't count, you're always drunk when we go there", I pointed out as he shrugged.

When he stopped, I stopped too and looked at where he was looking. I felt a smile creep on my face. My old childhood home. The only home I ever truly had.

"One day, I'll have enough money to buy it for you", Georgie said, hugging me from behind. "I can already picture our kids playing in the grass, I come home and you're there, waiting for me with open arms", he said and I looked at him, he had his eyes closed and he was smiling.

I always wanted to have his imagination, he says he has the most vivid imagination ever. He can picture things by just closing his eyes and thinking of something. Sometimes it made me envious, because he can also see the most beautiful things in life by just closing his eyes. He was like a small kid, he's aware of that.

"And I'll cook your favorite dish, we'll go out in the garden and have some lemonade and then we'll plant as many flowers as we can", I say, going with his flow. Only then, I remembered something. "Georgie, do you have a ring?", I asked, innocently.

He pouted and made me look at him. "Soon, Lou, I promise", he said and I regretted asking it.

"It doesn't matter", I brushed it off, touching his face. "As long as we're together", I assured him.

Georgie kissed the tip of my nose and gave me his beautiful smile. "Let's go home, my girl", he shouted the 'my girl' part and I heard someone opening the door of the house in front of us.

"What the hell?", the old lady yelled at us as Georgie quickly took my hand and we started running away from there, making our way home.

Just as we were about to arrive home, he hugged me tight. "I'm going back to work, okay? Go in and rest", he kissed my forehead.

"Alright G, I love you", I said softly and kissed him. 

"I love you more", he kissed me.

"No, I love you more", I kissed him, making him giggle.

"Don't start something you won't win", he said and I could see a glimpse of competitiveness in his eyes. "I.Love.You.More", he insisted, kissing me at each word.

"Alright, alright, you won", I said, because he was capable of going late to work if I kept going on.

"Bye, my girl...", he sighed and then yelled: "My girl!", I waved him off as I laughed, watching him walk/dance his way to his car.

As I was taking my keys out, my phone started ringing. It was an unknown number. 

"Hello?", I asked as I almost turned the knob to get in.

"Ms. Ronan", I heard Mr. Jackson's voice, making me sigh.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Jackson?", I asked, feeling weird. I can tell where he got my number from, but a reason to call me was something I couldn't make up.

"Meet me at the Imperia Hotel, right now", he said and then cut the call.

"Wha--?", and for the second time tonight, I was left to talk on my own. "Darn it", I sighed, opening the uber app in my phone. 

If he called me at this hour to tell me to meet him, I knew it had something to do with my job. I couldn't risk it, after all, he might become the highest investor of the company if his (what I assumed was) scheme worked out.

As the uber ride was taking me, I had a lot to think about the past. I don't remember if he's my age or two years older than me. But I remember seeing him for the last time when I was around eight or nine. My mother and I were in the company's lobby, waiting for my dad to come down and give him the flower bouquet we bought for him.

"Mama, is papa coming down soon soon?", I asked my mother impatiently as she simply smiled.

"Yes, Louie, papa has been busy because he has a new job now", my mother tried to explain to me as I tilted my head.

"Papa doesn't work here anymore?", I asked sadly.

"No, Louie, he still works here", she chuckled as I smiled in relief. "But now papa has more things to do", she explained and it made sense for me then. "Louie, look, there's papa!", she said, pointing at where my father was, talking to a woman and a boy.

I didn't think too much because I was excited to see my father, so I ran to him, bouquet in hand. "Papa! Papa! Congratulations!", I squealed, making him turn around and catch me in his arms.

"Oh, Louie, thank you...!", he laughed, before we turned around to see a woman that looked pretty bad, she seemed tired and sad.

"W-what...?", she asked in disbelief, the boy that was holding her hand glared at me. At that time, I didn't understood anything.

But now I do.

I paid the uber driver and then made my way to the hotel's lobby, asking the receptionist where Mr. Jackson was staying. She said that he was at the presidential suite, of course, what did I even expect?

I don't like to judge people, but I knew for a fact that Mr. Jackson aside from being thirsty for revenge, also had a carefully designed plan. And that I might be one of the common pawns used for his advantage. Was I scared? No. Ever since I knew what happened 25 years ago, I was slowly getting myself ready. Because I need to survive, I will survive.

I rang the bell for his hotel room. 

"Coming!", his voice sounded loud and clear to me, but when he opened the door, he didn't seemed to be fine.

"Mr. Jackson, what did you call me for...?", but he couldn't reply, because he had fainted and as a reflex, I catched him in my arms. I couldn't hold all his weight, though, so as we sat, he fell on the floor. "I-I'll call 911", I stuttered, taking my phone out of my bag.

"Don't", he said, in a weak breath. His hand barely reaching mine to lower my phone. 

I looked at him. He looked sick, weak. I've never imagined that I'd see him like this, yet, I felt pity for him. So, I managed to make a plan. I called a security guard to help me take him to the entrance, where a taxi was waiting for us.

"Please, take us to the closest Hospital--", I said but Mr. Jackson interrupted me.

"Reagan UCLA Medical Center", he said, with the last of his breath as I looked at him, shocked. From what I was watching, he was about to either faint or die. I didn't knew what was wrong with him, but I was worried - sick worried.

Not every day the person that hates your guts calls you to meet him and suddenly faints, right?

My eyes kept wandering to the man that was clutching his chest, as if his heart was hurting. I didn't knew what to do, I only knew that it was already enough by taking him to the hospital. So when he went to the emergency room, I sat in the waiting room, alone and confused. But waiting to hear some good news, after all...