Ed Sheeran ft. H.E.R. - I Don't Want Your Money.
~
WE DIDN'T TECHNICALLY WANT to swim. Toodles didn't actually want to go potty, so nobody - or nothing - used Mr. Ash's toilet. I just wanted to piss him off, and boy did it work. I think he even replaced his toilet because I saw some guys with a new WC and other plumbing equipment going into his room this morning.
I shut my door behind me and told my friends. We literally laughed our asses off. Amara was showering when I relayed the information; she tripped and fell from how hard she was laughing.
After I got the car keys from Mr. Ash, - and got really super horny because of what he said and did to me - we went on the best late night car rides of our lives. There's just something about goofing around in an expensive car that's not yours...until tragedy befalls, that is.
I honestly didn't wreck his car on purpose. I might have let Toodles claw on the leather seats but I did not intentionally wreck his car.
Sandra did, and it was purely unintentional.
Everyone in the car gasped loudly and a twenty-second moment of silence ensued in the space of the sleek Aston Martin after Sandra drunkenly scratched the side of my ex-boss's car on another car parked by the roadside.
So much for knowing how to parallel park.
All she did after the twenty-second pause was turn down the volume of Billy Jean blasting through the speakers and burst into laughter.
I wanted to strangle her - after laughing, that is. Partly, I also wanted to throw Toodles outside the car window and run him over three good times, because it was both their faults.
I asked the bitch...I mean, I fucking asked her if she could drive properly after having half a bottle of vodka and she said yes.
I asked her to leave Toodles at home, but she declined; she fucking said no.
She was also the one who brought up the idea of taking Mr. Ash's car for a late night ride to Starbucks Coffee and McDonald's.
Every tragedy that befell us last night was Sandra's fault.
The only good things I got out of agreeing to her stupid idea were: one, ten bucks from Vanessa because she lost our bet; two, the look of irritation on Mr. Ash's face each time I threw his office door open, and three, a slightly damp underwear.
Thank God, I didn't forgo panties when I was dressing up for the sleepover, although I tossed my bra aside.
Apart from that little incident though, last night was fun.
From the loud karaoke game, to annoying Mr. Ash, to gossiping late at night, to making midnight snacks...to introducing my friends to the interesting game of Slapjack.
Turns out Amara already knew how to play that and Blackjack as well. She said she'd been having a lot of free time, so she bought herself a pile of cards. She plays with Grandma Odi and apparently, she's currently ten times richer.
I wonder where that old woman gets her gaming and betting spirit from.
During gist time, I got myself a butt load of information.
Jade's got herself a new admirer - forgotten his name.
Nessa and Brody are still going strong.
Oma is going out with Mr. Curls - his name is Calix. After he gave her his number and we saved her from embarrassing herself - she wanted to sing on stage - in that club on that fateful day, Calix asked her out. She's lucky he didn't hear her voice or she'd still be single.
Sandra is still fooling around with Amir.
And Amara...well, Amara said she spent a lot of time visiting my old house to check up on Tom, and see if he has been taking good care of it. He has; there has been no incidence of robbery too. All great news, yeah yeah, but those things weren't what we girls wanted to hear.
She didn't quench our thirst by saying something about her romance life. She didn't say anything about a new 'fling' and that was a bit surprising; she just kept stroking Toodles and muttering sweet nothings to it like a Cruella De Vil.
Jade was stuttering and shivering like a worm being sprinkled with salt during the entirety of our romantic conversation. I instantly knew something was up, so I asked her what the problem was. She didn't even hesitate before she spilled the beans.
Mr. Ash had gone to visit them at Amara's house.
At first, I didn't think anything of this; I thought maybe he had some work or...something to do there, but that wasn't the case, no. I found this out because the gossip just kept on coming.
They said he went there in hopes of getting just Amara, but he got the whole package, except Sandra; she had work that night.
They continued by telling me he came to get information...on me. Now, this bit had me widening my eyes and sitting up on the blanket laid down for us on the floor.
But oh, they weren't done. Apparently, he wanted them to tell him about me because somehow his delusional self thought that rather than apologizing, going to my friends for tips would make me forgive his callous ass.
They each answered a question about me, and I couldn't help but feel slightly - just slightly - happy at the fact that my friends know me so well; and also slightly - just slightly - mad at them because they went behind my back and answered his useless questions.
They told him my favorite movies, artists...and about my strong dislike for brown chocolate. Turns out he's the one who got me those. If I had known, I would have grabbed the box of brown poison and smacked Joe with it in the face fifteen times.
Oma however went too far. She told him about my secondary school boyfriend and told him I had daddy issues. Like what the fuck was that?
When I told them to explain, they just gaped at me like deers caught in a headlight. Or in last night's case, a torchlight.
First, it was Jade's hinting that I have masochistic tendencies, now it's Oma's hinting that I have daddy issues. What next should I expect? Sandra telling my aunts that I have Stockholm's?
I do not have daddy issues. I may have...some kind of issues but none of them are paternal.
What baffled me the most - and made me so fucking angry - was when they told me that he gave them his card, - the card he oh-so-rudely denied me use of to get Joan her party stuff - and told them to get me gifts and lie about it so that when I'd find out the gifts were actually from him, I'd fold and fall head over hills in forgiveness with him.
If that isn't gaslighting, then I'm the Queen of England.
Vanessa commented on the steam of smoke escaping from my ears, and Jade asked if I needed Ibuprofen because my eyes were red with rage. I wanted to go up to his stupid office and shove all those gifts in the living room up his asshole and down his throat.
It actually made sense when they finally told me the truth, instead of the 'we bought you all these stuff to celebrate your innocence' lie they were previously going with. My friends would rather piss in the most public of all bathrooms than get me - of all people - expensive shit.
And when I say expensive, I mean expensive.
Didn't know people used my entire annual salary to buy anklets till yesterday.
It's a real shame though. I liked everything I thought my friends got me. I even rushed to put on the Barbie onesie because it looked so cute. Now, I'm gonna have to throw them all away.
After I made sure to drive away the stupid notion of Mr. Ash doing all these things because he's starting to like me from all their very thick skulls and telling them repeatedly that I will never forgive him, my friends and I came up with a plan.
Okay, fine, I was going to let it slide, but Vanessa and Amara came up with a plan.
A plan to irritate the delusional billionaire who thought he could weasel his way out of apologizing to me and buy my forgiveness and who threatened to make me pay with my moans if we wrecked his car.
I wonder what he'll do when he sees the teensy scratch Sandra left him. Maybe he'll shave all the fur off Toodles' body, or he'll eat me till I pass out. A part of me hopes it's the latter.
Jason came over.
In fact, he's right in front of me; said he had something to ask of me.
Mr. Ash went out as usual. He had some construction work to do with Alex - the secretary he was talking to last night.
Something green poked my chest when I saw her few minutes ago. She looks like someone Mr. Ash should fancy. She's tall, blonde, slim, pretty and has blue eyes.
Unlike me.
While I'm incredibly comfortable in my own skin, I couldn't help but compare myself to model-like Alex. She's...perfect.
Mr. Ash did say he's fucking obsessed with your ass, Alaina. Maybe he isn't into model-like girls. Maybe he's into short, ex-overweight, curly-haired black girls.
Hmm...yeah. Maybe, subconscious.
Whatever though, I don't care.
The persistent green needle disappears when Jason makes his first sentence.
"You're going to Carlifonia with Davian." Not a question. A statement. That's the first thing my brain records.
I spit out the bit of soda in my mouth all over his face.
Then I blink, and count until five in my head to calm myself down. "I'm sorry, what?"
Jason awkwardly brings his hand up to his face, wiping off the disgusting liquid with two long swipes across his features.
"Apology not accepted." He groans and moves to the sink behind me to rinse his face.
I don't even regard what he says.
"Wh-what? Why...Is that why we're packing? We're moving to California?!" I scream. The moving crew present in the vicinity pause their movements and turn to look at me in shock. I ignore them. "Jason, I'm not going anywhere and I don't give a fuc..."
"Calm down, cariño." Jason says as he pats his face with a clean towel he got from one of the drawers. "Where did Davian tell you that you were going to?"
"Davian," I mock, "didn't tell me anything. I came downstairs earlier today and met all...this." I wave my hands around the area frantically. "I even had to ask Gladys over there what was happening." I look over at the nice lady and she waves at me, smiling with her thirty-two. "Merci by the way." I tell her.
"Bienvenue." She keeps smiling, returning to her work.
Jason chuckles. "What did Gladys tell you?"
"Well, for some reason, she thought I was French and spoke to me in Français. But after few minutes of miscommunication, she finally used English and told me that we are going to a beach house."
"Davian's an asshole." Jason palms his forehead lightly.
"Tell me about it." I roll my eyes. "And also tell me about California."
Yeah, I may have forgotten to mention but when I and my friends got woken up this morning by the rickety-racket coming from everywhere in the house, we angrily stomped down the stairs to see what was causing all the ruckus.
That was when we met Gladys. Well, I met Gladys. My friends were too busy gawking at Dylan, some other moving crew guy that they all considered hot.
Amara and Oma placed on him if course. It's like tradition whenever my friends are involved at this point. This time Amara was the one to approach the guy and ask for his number. She lost though, again.
Dylan didn't even let her speak; he flinched and walked away briskly immediately Amara approached him.
We all blamed it on her morning breath, but she retorted by saying that she scraped her tongue and brushed thoroughly before going to bed the night before and she was right—we retired for the night pretty late around four a.m., so yes, we were only pulling her legs about the morning breath thing.
Only God knows Dylan's true reason for acting like Amara was the Ugly Duckling, instead of a pretty, young woman.
My friends left few hours after that, and here I am currently, in the kitchen with Jason.
"I can't believe he chickened out of this and asked me to deal with it." Jason grumbles, the ring on his nose glinting as he shakes his head.
"With what? What's going on?"
"You remember that number you gave us, no?" His accent blares. "The one from Taylor's journal."
I nod slowly. "I do."
"Well, the owner of the number agreed to meet with Davian." Dramatic pause. "Only if he brought you."
I blink some more. Once. Twice. "And she lives in California?"
"Yes." He answers me wearily. "Look, I know you might not agree to this, but just think about it for a second; this is your chance to..."
"Okay."
Now it's his turn to pause and blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Hmm?"
"I said okay. I'll go."
"That was...easier than I expected." He sounds and looks dumbfounded. "Are you sure you heard me, Alaina?"
"Yes, I did." I snicker. "I'm tired of all these too, Jason. I need clarification, and I need it now more than ever."
"Bien." He mutters some exasperated Spanish under his breath and walks away, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I look at the rag he dropped haphazardly on the counter and my brows fold. I unwillingly move to the counter, pick it up and place it where it's supposed to be.
So, California, huh?
And here I was, all giddy and packed up because I thought I was going to be spending some time in a billionaire's beach house.
Joan and Theresa are already there, settled down and awaiting their baggage. Jerry drove them there after they said their goodbyes to Mr. Ash by hugging each other like stuffed animals, exchanging forehead kisses that made me full of hate...and snaking his wallet out of his pocket in the process - Joan is the one who did this.
Mr. Ash really treats his family so nicely, it's blaring how much love he has for them. I can only imagine how he felt when Taylor died. He must have been devastated.
Devastated enough to happily treat me like an inanimate object without even carrying out proper research.
You want to know what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of his kindness.
Shut the fuck up, subconscious.
You know you want it, Ina.
Urgh. I groan inwardly and make a beeline to the entrance door.
I want to receive some natural, fresh air. Maybe that'll shut my subconscious up.
I get outside the house and meet Mr. Ash talking with Jason.
"She said yes?" Mr. Ash asks in bewilderment. "You sure she wasn't being sarcastic?"
"Yes, I'm sure. And getting her to say yes was pretty easy."
I frown at Jason's response.
"She didn't scream at you? Or argue?" Mr. Ash states asks, looking at Jason like he's grown a third eyeball.
"Why would she?"
Mr. Ash rolls his shoulders silently.
Jason kisses his teeth. "I'm beginning to think you didn't even ask her like you said you did."
"Nah. I didn't." Mr. Ash cracks a grin that I would gave described as sexy if I wasn't mad at him.
"I can't believe you set me up." Jason grimaces at him. "I thought you'd at least tried to convince her and she said no..."
Mr. Ash's smoldering eyes snap to mine. My breathing falters because these eyes stared at me as I orgasmed yesterday afternoon.
"Shut up, shut up. She's here." He rushes his words at Jason, trying to keep his expression impassive and neutral with his eyes still on mine.
Since we're all on the subject of California, I think it's best I air out some of my worries. Keeping that in mind, I approach them.
"How many days are we spending in The Golden State?" I ask Jason.
But the stupid man who tried to gaslight me with gifts replies instead. "Two days tops. The woman told Jason to alert her when we arrived so she'd set up an immediate meeting."
He's talking about this like it's a business meeting with Mr. Archibald or Mr. Abraham, not an interrogation with a supposed criminal - who's really aged - about the murder of his hermana.
"Okay." I nod at them, spinning on my heels when I'm done, about to walk back inside.
Mr. Ash grabs me before I take a step and I freeze. Oh, no. Is this about his car?
"I guess that's my cue." Jason mutters and walks past us, back into the house.
"You remember what you said, right?" Mr. Ash asks.
Oh?
"Me?" I fake-gasp. "Why, about what?"
"Don't mess with me, Alaina. You remember our date, don't you?"
I snatch my hand from his grip. Asshole.
Why did I even say that yesterday? I shouldn't have. I mean, the worst that would have happened was that I would have lost just ten bucks to Nessa.
But I did say it and now, I have to go out with this...this...this...
Incredibly sexy, hot, god of a man who Adonis feels threatened by?
No, subconscious. 'Asshole' does it quite fine.
"Yes, I remember." I grit out. "What time, Mr. Ash?"
"Seven; eight, any time you want, I'll pick you up."
I heave. "Okay."
_________________
My heels make clacky sounds as I step into the five-star restaurant with lots of classy people in it, murmuring classy stuff.
Psych.
My boots make squeaky sounds as I stumble into the one-star restaurant slash diner with lots of normal people in it, laughing and screaming unnecessary profanities at each other.
Mr. Ash walks in wearily behind me, huffing out a breath in anger. "Where the fuck are we?"
"A date." I reply him, standing on my tippy toes and looking for any tell-tale signs of my special guests.
"What are you looking for?" He asks me, scowling at a drunk man who shoves him and staggers out the door.
Don't get me wrong, I don't like this place either but I'll do anything - no matter how petty - to get under this man's skin like he's ignorantly doing to me daily.
"Well, we can't start a party without guests now, can we?"
His expression hardens so quickly, it's like a precipitous gunshot. "What party, what guests and what the fuck are you talking about?"
"Actions speak louder than words, Mr. Ash. Wait and see."
His eyes trail all over my body as if on instinct and I can't help the shiver that wracks its way through my vertebral column.
I know he expected me to dress fancifully for this date, probably in glitters and a gold crown, but when he saw my ghetto get-up, he didn't complain. He instead seemed to be...comfortable with it.
Black, high-waist, elastic pants; black, turtle-necked, short-sleeved top; black Ichigo ankle boots, and a white beanie - I figured I'd give the look a little light.
Maybe I should have dressed half-naked. Looking ghetto isn't riling him up, but I know dressing shabbily in front of drunk, greasy old men will do the trick.
"The party is here!" Amara sing-songs as she literally shoves the door open and barges into the noisy diner with Nessa, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Ay, Dios mio." Mr. Ash groans excruciatingly, palming his forehead and walking further into the bar to settle down.
And this is the second plan I and the girls came up with after our late night car ride. Ruin our 'date.'
"Sandra, Oma and Jade are busy. So, you're stuck with Nessa and me." Amara grins, already winking at the bartender guy behind the counter who returns her flirting antics.
"I think we're enough for her anyways. The others don't have any willpower. Now dear," Vanessa taps my cheek, "where's your groveling boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend." I frown. "And he's over there." I point at the large, brooding figure slumped on a seat in one of the empty booths at the far end of the diner.
Nessa laughs. "What? He's tired...already? I'll be back in a sec." As soon as she's done talking, she leaves us alone and walks towards Mr. Ash.
"Really?" I give Amara a look, interrupting whatever she and the bartender guy have going on presently.
"What?" She makes a sound of frustration. "Don't judge. I've been single for months now, Ina. I need a little fun of my own."
"Of your ow...what?" I babble, shaking my head rapidly. "You know what? Whatever. I'm not judging; you can have your fun."
"I'll be right back." She mutters to the bar guy and walks over to me. "Think this is the perfect time for phase two of plan two?"
The grin that makes its way onto my lips is evil. "I don't see why this isn't."
"Davian doesn't own this...place, does he?" Amara asks.
"Well, he sure doesn't act like it." Flashing him a stare, I discover that he's still with Nessa, and there's a very very disgusted look on his face. The both of them seem to be having some sort of serious conversation. "By the way, I don't think successful billionaires like him invest in delapidating businesses."
"Okay then. Phase two of plan two is in motion." Amara speaks excitedly, moving closer to the counter and leaning on it.
"You know you can just do it without any announcements, right?"
She responds me by beaming a puckish smirk.
After speaking to that bar guy who's been smiling sheepishly at her for a few seconds and they both nodding a few times, she turns to the crowd in the diner and shouts. "Hey, everyone!"
Nothing happens. Nobody responds to her.
Everywhere is still as noisy as a marketplace.
But Amara has never been one to care about public opinions or get deterred by a little silent treatment.
When she quakes her head in a disappointed fashion and digs her hand into her large bag, I acknowledge then and there, that these people are fucked; they're going to listen to her whether they like it or not.
She whips out a blowhorn from her blue tote and my eyes bulge. Jesus, this girl is always with...something in there.
"Can everyone shut up?!" She screams at the top of her voice, lifting up a slender arm and pressing on the blow horn at the same time.
The diner quietens down to the point of pin-drop silence. Someone coughs amongst the little crowd for dramatic effect I'm sure.
This is why we picked this location for this 'date.' You can't exhibit barbaric behaviors like these at a five-star restaurant.
"Much better." Amara tucks in her device and raises her head to regard the tranquil crowd in front of her full of people who are staring at her with rapt attention because of her audacity. "Everything's on the house." She breaks the silence expertly, with a calm and collected pitch.
There's a moment of wordless confusion.
A woman staggers to her feet in the middle of the diner. "Wait, you mean we can order anything we want?"
"Oui oui, mademoiselle." She's getting really good at her French pronunciations. "Any fucking thing." Amara smiles widely. "And you don't have to spend a penny..." my heart beats an internal drum-roll. "...because he's paying!" She points over at the booth of my beloved boss, darting a mischievous glance at me.
I burst into laughter. Plan two of my revenge is complete.
The first and only other plan was to give out all the gifts he got me.
The hoots and hollers of everyone in the diner bounces off the oily walls and floors. I even hop a little in ecstasy.
When I look over at Mr. Ash, there's an entertained curl to his lips as he's leaned backwards on his sofa and gazing at me with such intensity, I'm surprised I haven't melted yet.
He's not paying any attention to Nessa who's hunched over in deep laughter, he's looking at me and the words behind his eyes are as clear as fucking day: You're in deep shit.
I brazen my eyes at him in a way which I hope says, 'you're not the boss of me anymore. Go to hell.'
He's not going to do shit to me. By the way, he owes me; he owes me a lot and he knows it.
His unrelenting, unaffected-by-my-revenge-plan eyes manage to piss me off, so much so that I decide to dig further deeper into the shit his ghastly smirk suggests I'm in.
All I want is to get under his skin, for fuck's sake; I want him to feel what I'm feeling...how I'm feeling, not smirk at me like I'm an interesting jester.
"What's your most expensive drink here?" I ask the other bartender who's not occupied with staring at Amara's eyes like a cupid-struck koala, whilst maintaining eye contact with my lovely boss. Mr. Ash's eyes glint with even more comic satisfaction. Urgh! The neurotic.
The bar guy mumbles something about a brand of whiskey which I don't really care for because all my attention is on the infuriating man few meters away from me.
"Give me three bottles of that. And I want a glass of your sweetest alcohol as well."
I don't think triple the price of the most expensive drink in this diner will do Mr. Ash any major financial harm, but I'll take it. I'll take it to appease myself and I'll also take an extra dose of sweetness to try and drive off all the bitter energy I've been harboring towards a green-eyed monster lately.
Some man tries to approach him over at his booth for a friendly pat in the back. Oh, you poor soul. Mr. Ash's abrupt snap of head and loaded scowl smacks him viscerally in the face however, and he immediately raises both his hands in surrender and backs away, shaking his head ferociously as if to say, 'chill, I meant no harm, I swear.'
Mr. Ash flings his gaze back to me; my pulse shivers. I expect to see that same scowl on his face, but his subtle smile throws me off guard. Mon Dieu. What is wrong with this man, Lord? I don't want that reaction. I want frowns, irritated expressions, death glares...not a fucking smile.
"Here." The bartender places three bottles of whiskey and a glass of cocktail on the counter between us. He keeps talking after doing his job, saying words which I can't really hear over my ex-boss's unashamed ogling.
When he gets tired of trifling with an unresponsive me, he leaves.
I grab the glass of whatever cocktail he brought me, downing the content at a go and expecting to choke a little or something, but the sweet, savoury taste of the liquid in my mouth has me ordering two more and finishing both at one go as well.
I've never had anything so tasty in all my years in this country.
"Hey, Alaina, you okay?" Amara bends to whisper in my ear so I can hear her over the loud noise of hoots and hollers.
Her breath is cold and smells like passion fruit and her proximity tears my eyes from my ex-boss's, although I can feel him keep staring at me.
I nod once, gulping down the huge lump of alcohol in my throat. "What happened with the bartender guy?"
"You mean Drake?" She chortles. "Nothing happened with Drake, Alaina. He bought me few glasses of PFM and we talked."
"Fling?"
Am unlady-like snort. "I've passed the age of dating bartenders, babe." She sighs. "Dating just for looks and few shots of cheap cocktail is something younger me would have done."
I snarkle at her straight-forwardness. "Rich like Christian or nothing, huh?"
"Richer than Christian or nothing." She deadpans, then hikes an easy brow at me. "Upgrades."
"Of course." I goggle my eyes jokingly. "I'm gonna use the bathroom for a while." I point at those three bottles of whiskey. "Keep an eye on those for me, will ya?"
"Sure thing, bitch." She concurs. "While you do that, I'm going to eat until my belly button becomes a second tummy." She narrates. "You might have a thing against using other people's money, but I don't." Then she attempts to slide towards Mr. Ash and Nessa with a horrible moon walk.
After she leaves dramatically, I bite my lower lip, the feeling of temporary contentment in my lower belly dissipating into nothingness.
Now, all I want to do is leave this place.
I will my legs to move me towards the back, where the bathroom is located.
The corridor leading to the bathroom looks grotesque, like something off a horror movie, but that's the last thing my mind is bothered about right now. I just want to see how I'm looking and fix myself up since I don't feel so good.
When I get inside the female bathroom, I rush to the wide mirror in front of the sinks, taking a deep breath to calm my frayed nerves and turning on the tap to splash some water on my face.
I'm so fidgety because my thought process is a jungle.
First, I'm sexually involved with my ex-boss whom I hate because he mistreated me when he thought I was the one who killed his sister.
I don't know if what we did in that bar is going to be constant, but if I'm going to judge from his final statements that day he locked me in his office and before he left the bar that afternoon, Mr. Ash has other plans for the both of us; plans that involve him touching me, and me enjoying it.
I know that I've stressed the fact that I hate him times without number, but I also know that whatever the fuck he has in mind, I'm going to succumb to all of them thoughtlessly.
And second, I'm going to California to investigate a murder that I was framed for committing. This is a trip my family has no idea about; an impromptu trip that I have to undertake alone with the egoistic man whom I hate who has plans of 'getting into my pants' while I maul his nape.
To add to this short list, I think I might have daddy issues...and Stockholm's. I mean, those are the only viable reasons I can think up for me to be getting aroused at the thought of being in an entirely different country with no other companion - nobody to even talk to - except the beast.
Christ, my head hurts.
My life could become a Hollywood blockbuster.
I know I'd pay to watch a girl getting eaten out in an Audi; I'd also pay good money to see how the shit-show movie ends.
Some people might like this kind of...drama, but I honestly don't. I just want to go back to my old life where I'm in control of myself and my feelings. Mr. Ash makes me feel like I'm spiraling into insanity.
The door to the bathroom is pushed open from outside and I flinch with a yelp, turning my head to the side and preparing myself to shout at whatever lady who thought it was okay to barge into a bathroom obviously reserved for her gender.
I met with a pair of hard, green orbs instead.
Fuck. Those eyes always do something to me.
"This isn't the male bathroom." I turn my eyes back to the mirror, avoiding his hypnotic gaze and watching him through it.
"And this isn't the date I asked you out on."
"Pity. My other dates didn't mind when I brought few friends along." Lie. And I know he knows this.
Date nine sent me a long hate paragraph with fifty percent curse words when I brought Amara, Sandra and Vanessa to some cinema for our blind date.
Yes, I did it intentionally.
I always told my aunt never to hook me up with any doctors, but of course she stood by her 'your husband could be anywhere' rule, so naturally, date nine regretted trying to get to know me intimately.
Mr. Ash's frown deepens. "You weren't planning on coming with me alone from the beginning, were you?"
I refrain from rolling my eyes. "You're smarter than you look."
He ignores me. "Are you ever going to forgive me?"
What? How dare he ask me that?
The nerve of this man!
How can I forgive him when he hasn't done anything to warrant that?
How can I forgive him when he doesn't act like someone who did wrong by me countless of times?
How can I even consider his forgiveness when he's not brought up anything that happened that night in his kitchen?
He hasn't admitted to being wrong to me and he hasn't apologized to me for being wrong; the only thing he's hell bent on doing is making up for being wrong in the most pompous ways known to man.
"Maybe." I shrug indifferently. "When you jump in front of a moving truck...and survive it without any injuries."
He breathes out, displeased. "This is getting annoying, Alaina."
"Then stop." I thin my eyes at him in the mirror. "I'm not forcing you to do anything."
"I'm doing this because I want to. I want to make things right between us." His Adam's apple bobs. "But you don't care about how much effort I'm putting in."
I scoff. "Effort, my ass." His eyes temporarily gaze at it. My heart beat stutters, but I regain mental composure. "You're only doing these unnecessary things now because you finally believe I'm innocent. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than a date if you want me to believe you're putting in effort."
"Try harder how?" He groans out. "What gesture would you prefer? Just tell me, I'll do it."
Gesture? What? "Excuse me?"
"You gave my chocolates away and you rejected my date offer." If arrogance was living and breathing, Mr. Ash would be its role model. "What do you want me to do for you?"
I stare at him with incredulity for many seconds.
I don't want your fucking chocolates! I don't want your fucking date! I couldn't care less about all those inconsequential things!
I don't care about a stupid gesture! We're not in a relationship.
All I want is for him to show me he cares about how much his past actions affected me. I want him to show remorse and apologize for everything he did to me; not throw few dollars at my friends and order them to get me stuff like his butlers, and then furthermore expect me to kiss his feet for that.
Mr. Ash is fucking unbelievable.
"Did you give my friends your card?" I blurt out, ignoring his proud question, because I can't hold it in any longer. If I do, I'll probably pop from anger.
He sighs like he expected it. "Jade told you, didn't she?"
I don't reply.
He doesn't hesitate. "Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"I wanted them to get you stuff."
"Really now?"
His expression solidifies even more; I know I'm pushing him. "Yes."
"Why?" I parrot.
"You should know; they already told you everything."
"My God, Mr. Ash." My tone is heavy with a percentage of all the emotions swirling like a tornado storm within me. "You are delusional. At first you thought chocolates would make me forgive you; then you thought a stupid date would make me forgive you, and now you think a few designer bags and shoes will?"
"You did this tonight because you didn't like the stuff they got you." Mr. Ash ignores me and says this. It's not a question.
He's arrogantly assuming I'm angry because I didn't like the gifts my friends bought. But in reality, I did. Who the fuck wouldn't? I'm just not going to keep them because that's not all it's going to take me to let go of the hate I'm harbouring towards him. I'm not destitute.
"No, I didn't." I lie. "I burnt all of them." I lie again.
"Do you want something better?" He doesn't even seem fazed that I just said I set those expensive gifts on fire. There was a Lana Mark's Cleopatra Clutch in there! That's like setting a brand new car on fire!
Better than a Cleopatra Clutch? I almost ask, but I swallow that question.
Say yes, Alaina. If you don't say fucking yes right now.
No, I don't want something better than a Cleopatra Clutch. I want an apology.
"You should leave, Mr. Ash." My countenance darkens. "This is the ladies'."
"For fuck's sake!" He sounds desperate now, not even making any move to leave the bathroom. "What the fuck do you want? You wanna go to the other restaurants down the road and give them free stuff? Orphanages? You want me to do charity work for homeless felines? Is that what it'll take for you to stop treating me like this?"
As much as his desolation and despair baffle the fuck out of me, I glance at him quizzically. "You'll...actually do all that?" But you won't apologize to me.
Christ. How hard can it possibly be for this man to say the word 'sorry' to someone who's not his mama? How hard?!
He brushes a hand through his thick hair. That hair that I finally had the pleasure of threading my fingers through their lustrous strands yesterday afternoon. The way I want to do it again and again and again and again is so so wrong.
"Do you want me to?" He queries.
Urgh. No. "I want you to leave me alone."
Something snaps in his demeanor, transforming his expression into a solemn, persistent and authoritative one. He is not leaving me alone.
He digs his hand into his back pocket and whips out something black and rectangular.
Then he begins to take few steps towards me whilst training his eyes on mine in the mirror.
Oh, God, what is about to happen?
"I'm not taking your stupid card." I refuse speedily. "I'm not Joan or Theresa."
I make reference to that day I went shopping with his younger sister. The day he made it clear that his money is just for his family. The day he told me not to make use of it.
The next day, he got mad because I bought a red gown with it. Well, I didn't, Joan did; but still...
He doesn't falter in his mission.
I panic inwardly, but I don't spin around to look at him, I don't even move a muscle; I only maintain eye contact with him on the mirror.
"Mr. Ash, if you touch me, I'll scream 'harassment.'"
"Scream all you fucking want." He utters so nonchalantly, you'd think I said something about politics.
My core beats like a Boys' Brigade.
My heart gallops when he's directly behind me, casting his huge shadow on my frame. My lips part when he grips the low ponytail outside of my beanie and yanks my head backwards 'til I'm looking up at him in reverse.
He brings his card and raises it in front of my face. "Take it and get yourself whatever you want. Something you'll like and not burn."
Fuck you. "No."
"I'm not asking."
"Shocker."
"Alaina..."
"Say please."
He scorns.
Suddenly I feel his hot exhale on my cheek as he bends his head down and whispers in my ear. "I'm out of fucking options here. Just take it," I feel his hand on mine on the counter, he literally pushes the card into the space between my second and third fingers, "get yourself whatever the hell you want and come with me on an actual date. Just the two of us." Then lets go of my hair and my hand.
I straighten my spine, feeling a large bolt of power surge through it.
Mr. Ash is really bent on earning my forgiveness for some unknown reason. He's obviously not willing to apologize, but he's shockingly willing to give me anything I want; he just said that.
And while I don't want anything materialistic from him, I want to frustrate him like he's been doing to me since he met me.
Our eyes lock in the mirror. "If you want me alone on a date with you, ask me nicely." I order him like he used to me. "Go down on your knees and beg me for it."
Déjà vu is a bitch because judging by the carnal look of pure lust in his eyes, he's mentally teleported to the day he made me kneel before him with tears in my eyes in his closet.
"You want me to beg for a date with you?" He asks me with menace.
"Mm hmm." Unbothered, I nod. "On both knees. And when you're done, take your card," I throw the card in-between my fingers on the bathroom floor, "and shove it up your..."
His hand clamped around my throat silences me. He's gripping me hard with retaliation written all over his face.
"Has someone fucked your face before, Alaina?" Mr. Ash's voice is pure sex as he asks me gravely.
"W-what?" I struggle to speak.
"Have someone ever fucked your throat with his cock?" He asks again with more detailed words.
Merde. No, no one has.
But I don't say anything.
"Yunno, I think you'll be a good cock sucker, considering how big your mouth is."
"I've been told." I manage to choke out, eying his green orbs in the mirror.
His hand on my throat squeezes. My lids flutter. "You just don't know when to shut up, Alaina, do you?"
Instinctively, I push my ass backwards, and as expected, it brushes his erection. Mr. Ash is turned on for me. Fuck.
His guttural groan resonates throughout the entire bathroom, echoing as it dies down.
"Who did you blow?" He asks.
He probably took my 'I've been told' as a positive answer to his non-existent question of if I've ever given a blowjob before.
"None of your business." I retort.
"Do you know what I was thinking of that day you were on your knees in my closet?" His dark voice caresses my core.
"Tearing my application form?"
"I was thinking of stuffing your stupid mouth full of my cock until you begged me to let you breathe."
My pussy fucking pulsates. Good Lord.
I was right. While I was crying my heart out and wishing he'd just give me back my application form, Mr. Ash was getting off.
Jesus, please spare me. I can't get on a plane with a wet crotch. Please, I really don't want to.
"Maybe, I should do it now. Do us both a huge favor and shut you up with something." He says, dropping his hand from my neck and cupping one of my breasts in his heated hands. My toes curl in my boots.
I bite back a moan and reply him. "I doubt your cock will fill my mouth, Mr. Ash. Like you said, it's accustomed to much bigger things."
Second time I've called his dick small, even though I know it's anything but. If I get out of here unscathed, I'm God's favorite.
Mr. Ash doesn't say anything; his silence sparks with sinister contemplation. When I hear the sound of his belt coming undone, my heart sinks to the base of my large intestine.
Fuck, no, I was bluffing. God, no. I was fucking bluffing. Maybe I am not God's favorite after all.
I can't...I can't possibly suck dick for the first time in this haunted house of a bathroom. I don't want dick shoved down my throat. I haven't even had lunch.
Maybe I should just take it back and apologize.
But then the door of the bathroom is thankfully pushed open again and a lady wobbles in - that same woman from earlier - except, she's drunk now.
His grip on my body begrudgingly loosens and I immediately push off him, moving to the side and avoiding any kind of contact.
"Whoa. Am I...am I in the wrong place?" The woman slurs, looking around frantically. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No." I reply her even before she's done with asking her question. Don't go. If you do, I'm doomed.
Luckily for both of us, Mr. Ash's belt is not completely undone or we'd probably look really stupid, like we were both willingly about to engage in a steamy blowjob session in this rundown toilet-place.
I feel his gaze burn two holes in my cheek as he fixes up himself and walks away from me.
"Don't forget your card!" I yell at his receding figure, but he doesn't turn back or even regard me.
Asshole.
I eye the card for few, excruciatingly long seconds.
Should I pick it up, should I not pick it up? Time for a debate, brain!
Pick up the damn card, foolish girl.
"You gonna pick that up, or should I?" The woman continues talking, pointing at the card on the floor.
I thin my eyes at her and involuntarily crouch down, picking up Mr. Ash's card and walking out of the bathroom.
When I get back into the diner, Mr. Ash is nowhere to be found but Amara is dancing around carefreely to the oldie coming from the jukebox at the far corner of the room with few people in the middle of the diner.
Vanessa rushes towards me, grinning from ear to ear with a greasy turkey lap in her right hand.
"He's outside...in his car." She sparkles. "What happened between the two of you? He looked angrier than usual."
I kind of told him my mouth has had huger things than his dick shoved inside of it. And when I said huger things, I didn't mean your turkey lap or a max burger; I meant other dicks.
But I don't tell her this.
"You know how he is." I tell her instead. "I gotta go before he leaves me here." Amara joins her in front of me. "Got a plane to catch."
"Girl, I think I've eaten so much food, I won't eat any more for three days." Amara complains.
"We know you, Amara." Vanessa laughs. "Give yourself a few hours."
Amara scowls at her, then looks at my expression. "Oh, no. Don't tell me you were about to leave without telling me goodbye."
My smile drops. "I'm tired of telling you goodbye." I look at Nessa. "All of you." I clarify. "You do remember what to tell my mum if she asks about me though, right?"
They both inhale some air in preparation for the words about to leave their mouths, then they part their lips, "Alaina got a job opportunity at California and she went to check it out. It all happened so quickly, that's why she couldn't tell you about it, but it's a perfect chance for her to escape Davian and his hellish family, and better her life. PS, Davian's still sorry for feeding Majid weed." They exhale in relief once they're finished with the recitation I sent to our WhatsApp few hours ago.
Perfect.
"Aww, thanks guys." I coo. "Thank you so much."
"It's no biggie." Nessa smiles. "The rest of the girls have it memorized as well, just in case. Although Jade's still learning how to say it without breaking down."
I laugh. "You're all the best." We alternate in hugging each other. "Goodbye, bitches." I grin, waving at them and moving towards the entrance door.
Before I leave, that bartender calls my attention and gives me the three bottles of whiskey I'd ordered.
I advise him to grab enough food stuff that'll last him a lifetime before his shift ends tonight. He sneers at me and nods. Then, I finally leave the diner.
I pause once I'm outside the warm building and scout the area with my eyes. When I spot Mr. Ash inside his Audi across the road, I resume my jogging towards him.
I settle down quietly onto the cold leather seat, dropping the whiskey bottles at my feet.
Mr. Ash doesn't act like he notices me or the bottles; he just locks the doors and starts the car, driving off into the night.
"I've changed my mind; I don't want to go to California anymore. Turn the car around and take me to my mother's." I decide to break the eery silence with a whine.
He deems my childish complaint worthy of a reply after few tense seconds. "You're not staying until the investigation is complete anymore?"
"I changed my mind." I parrot myself. "Take me to my mother's, Mr. Ash."
"No."
I turn to face him. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to follow you alone to a whole different world with no route of escape in case you decide to go Squidward on me."
He's apathetic. "I don't understand what you just said."
Fighting a literal Agni Kai with my eyes to stop myself from rolling them, I explain, "If you think I'm going to California with you alone, you're crazy."
Mr. Ash chuckles emotionlessly for a moment. "Then I am crazy, Alaina, because you are going with me to California. Alone."
If I didn't know better, I'd think that Mr. Ash is much more excited about this trip than I've ever been about anything. "Even if I don't want to?"
"Sí." Yes.
"So you're kidnapping me?"
"If that's what you want to call it."
My heart skips; I babble the first thing that comes to mind. "If we get to the airport, I'm screaming for help and telling the security that you're kidnapping me." What is it with me today and security personnel?
"One, the security there won't help you, Alaina. They know me and they don't interfere in my business." A short silence in which my nipples form pebbles. "And two, if you want to scream so badly, just ask me nicely; I promise I'll have you screaming this whole neighborhood down in two minutes." He turns to look me in the eyes. "Or less."
Fuck. Lust slithers like a Sidewinder through all my veins and nerves.
I look away from him rapidly, clamping my legs together tightly. "I honestly don't think I want to follow you to the airport anymore, Mr. Ash."
Our episode in the diner bathroom had me reconsidering my decision because he's still so very full of himself and I'm still so angry at him. Knowing him and his knack for impatience, it'll only take such little time before his patience wears thin with me and he stops trying to earn my forgiveness.
He might go back to being a beast, or even something worse than a beast then, and I don't want to risk it. I don't want to be in a foreign country with a selfish man who doesn't care about anyone else but himself.
"Good thing we're going to a jet hanger then."
Uhm...Excuse me, what?
"You own a private jet?!" I ask, almost choking on my saliva. Why the hell didn't he just lead with that?
"Two." He brags. "Still wanna go back to your mama's?"
I almost roll my eyes. You don't have to have an attitude about it. Wait, maybe he actually does have to have an attitude about owning two private jets.
Well then, I guess I'm willingly going to California.
"I'll go." I mumble. "Not back to my mother's. I mean, I'll go with you to California." I add, giving up my stubborn act and finally accepting the fact that going to The Golden State is the second thing on my notepad bucket list.
The first one is entering a private jet.
Grandpa's been planning on buying one for a while now and I thought that the day he would get one would be the day I ticked that experience off my bucket list.
But I guess I'm going to be crossing it off earlier than I'd planned.
"But I have one condition."
"You're giving me an ultimatum for a trip that's going to benefit the both of us." He sounds puzzled, like he's trying to process the fact in his head.
It's not exactly an ultimatum per say, it's just something that'll guarantee he won't wake up one morning, throw an unexpected fit and sell me to a slaughterhouse.
Mr. Ash might be many things, but I know he doesn't bluff or take back his words.
If I can get him to accept my condition and give me his word right here, right now, I'll go to California with him; but if I can't, I'm not going anywhere. If he tries to force me, I'm screaming at the hangar for help.
"Yes." I answer his question.
"What?"
Knowing I'm all alone with him in a car, I feast on my lower lip for morale. "For this trip, you'll be my maid."
Mr. Ash's foot steps on the brake pedal and the car jerks to a stop.
"Your what?" He asks, turning to look at me. His previously excited tone has morphed into something mean and wicked.
"Manservant, butler...call it whatever you want, but you'll obey my every word." I develop a pair of balls. "In fact, I fired my driver, so you'll be my driver. I fired my cook, so you'll be my cook. Ah, yes, I also fired my secretary, even though I've never had one, so guess who my new one is? You."
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
'Get the fuck out of my car' and 'no' form an African-American choir in my head.
With each second that passes, the choir gets louder and louder; the dread spreads farther and farther in my bloodstream.
However, Mr. Ash amazes the shit out of me when he bursts into laughter. Like...candid laughter. The kind of laughter where his shoulders are shaking and his beautiful set of teeth are on display.
I gulp a huge ball of saliva. My heart overturns itself, trying to hide from this man and his god-damn sexy reactions to everything. My eyes stare at him, wide-eyed and in awe.
"I see what you did there." He says, still basking in the aftermath of his comic episode.
Yeah, he said something similar to me in the past...but what the fuck just happened?
I don't know, girl. My subconscious replies me.
I just made Mr. Ash laugh.
I made him laugh hard.
God, this must be what self-acheivement feels like.
I shake my head to eliminate the evil thoughts creeping in. "Are you game?"
He thinks about it for a second. "I'm game."
My eyes bulge. "You'll wait on me for the entirety of this trip." I enunciate each and every word, making sure he gets what I mean.
"I will."
What the fuck?
"Can you even cook?" I ask him.
"I know a thing or two. If I can't, I'll use YouTube." I'm pretty sure he's mocking me right now. He knows I used YouTube all the time to cook for him. "Or I'll order."
"You know I used Google to cook for you, huh?"
"Yes."
I suddenly recall the first meal I ever made for him.
I was so scared he'd flip out and toss the food in the bin, or at me. But he ate it so quietly that day, and I never got to find out how it tasted to him. I never even wanted to ask, with him being unnecessarily rude to me and all.
"And?" I inquire snidely. "How was my cooking?"
He doesn't answer for a few seconds and I think he's going to ignore me.
But then he flabbergasts me yet again with his response. "The best I've ever had."
My veins pop. "You're serious?"
"Yes, Alaina. I am." He replies me, stepping on the accelerator and getting us moving again. His voice is light, and merry. It's...unlike him. A lot unlike him.
Looking at him now, something cute flutters behind my ribcage...continuously, dangerously. He just agreed to be my butler, after laughing in the most aristocratic way, and he said my cooking's the best he's ever had; not even his mother's, mine! Jesus.
I wonder what else he'll do if I ask him to.
To test the waters, I blab, "I want to do the restaurant thing."
If he says yes, I'm definitely in an alternate universe.
"What restaurant thing?"
"The thing you suggested in that bathroom." I explain. "Footing the bills of strangers in all of the restaurants down the road. Ring a bell?"
A deep inhale from him. "Do you really want me to do this?"
"Yes."
"What about the orphanages? And the charity shit for felines?"
Does this question mean he's willing to do it?
"We have a jet to catch, Mr. Ash. Maybe another day."
Silence that sparks with flickers of tension.
"Pick."
I gulp. "Huh?"
"Pick a restaurant, Alaina."
My heart explodes in my chest. I'm officially in an alternate universe.
What the fuck? He's actually going to do it? He's going to foot the bills of strangers because I asked him to?
My throat is parched. "You're...you're doing it?"
He throws me an annoyed look. "Isn't it what you want?"
I didn't know you'd actually agree to it! "You're not mad about it?"
"No." Is his curt reply.
Jesus Christ, when he said he was willing to do anything to get me to forgive me, I didn't...I didn't know he actually meant it!
It's bizarre that he agrees to do all these without a second thought, but can't bring himself to simply say sorry.
Never have I ever seen a man who willingly empties his bank account solely for the purpose of avoiding saying an apology.
"Pick, Alaina." He bursts my thought balloon.
I blink frenetically, trying to pick up the bits and pieces of my blown up organs and call myself back to order.
"There. We can start from that restaurant over there." I point at a shabby building across the road with a golden glow shining through its stained windows. "Do you own that?"
"Does it look like I own it?"
"Nah." I chunter. But I prefer we do our unnecessary charity at struggling places like that. At least people there will appreciate it. "I want us to start from there."
His veiny hands work the steering in that direction.
When he glances over at me again, there's something soft and sweet glowing in his orbs, but he masks it by blinking and facing the road again.
Fuck. That was the nicest look Mr. Ash has ever given me.
What is happening, Earth? I'm getting scared.
And I'm also beginning to feel like this all-expense paid trip to California is either going to be one of the best I'll ever have, or one of the most life-changing experiences I'll ever be on, because in one night, I've gotten Mr. Ash to smile, laugh, spend his money without getting irritated and look at me like...that. All in few hours!
I also got him to almost shove his dick down my throat. But I dunno; fingers crossed, I guess.
~
Thoughts?