"Aunt Donna, have you seen my wallet?!" I yell at the top of my lungs, my hands vigorously searching for my brown leather wallet - containing the change I desperately need for my busdrive - in the many moving boxes spread across my brand new room. I need to find them. In a matter of five seconds, actually, or else I'l be late and I'll be fired and I'll be homeless. Basically.
"You left it on the coffee table, honey!"
Oh, the coffee table, of course.
Jumping through the many boxes, I run into the living room. It's not more than three steps away from my room, and when I finally enter, I find aunt Donna painting her toenails on the couch and my brown wallet on the coffee table.
"Thanks," I sigh, picking it up, "I'm leaving now."
"Alright, honey, be safe." she murmurs, not raising her blue eyes from her crooked toes. I'm almost out of the living room, when her voice stops me.
"Hannah, baby?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so, very sorry..."
I turn around to meet her hooded eyes. Her tired and wrinkly face looks even more exhausted, making my stomach tighten in sadness. Because I know she means it. I'm not doubting her a second. Her voice has never been this serious, her words never this sincere.
"It's okay, aunt Donna-"
"No, it's not. You know it's not okay. I know it's not okay... You see, I've never been a... responsible person. I've never had to. The first and biggest responsible I ever took was to take you under my wing, and I haven't regretted it for a second."
My gaze lowers to the ground while the words stumble out of her mouth. I just can't look into her teary eyes filled with sorrow and desperation. She doesn't deserve this.
"I thought... I thought I could do it. That we'd be fine. We were fine, besides those times where I forgot to pick you up from school..." a sad laugh escapes her small lips, "but this time it's different. This isn't me forgetting to pick you up from school or forgetting to do groceries. This is me losing everything we ever had and onto that cause a big, big loan to rest on our shoulders. All this in one night of crazy gambling. And I'm so, so sorry. It... It was supposed to be a fun night in Vegas, a simple reunion with my friends, just like in the 80s, just like my young times. But it went out of control. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you have to be the adult, Hannah, I'm so, very sorry."
When I raise my gaze I find her standing right in front of me, her small figure looking so defeated, so fragile. Her icy blue eyes stare into my teary ones, and I let a sob leave my lips as I wrap my arms around her slim neck, pulling her towards me, reminding me of how much she means to me no matter what.
"We'll get through this, I promise..." that's the last thing I tell her before I walk out, leaving her behind, knowing that she'll break down in tears the moment I step out of the house. But we'll get through this. We'll find a way.
Knowing about us moving and all, my boss, Mr. Tipton, lets the fact that I am about ten minutes late slide. But this is the last time, he assures me, his smile implying something I can't quite put a finger on. Mr. Tipton is a very old man; however, he posses the spirit of a twenty year old. He has run this antique shop in the center of the famous pedestrian street for as long as he can remember. Actually, he inherited it from his father. So while all the other shops were bought by coveted, high-end brands, this one has stayed the same since it opened. A simple antique boutique in between Fendi and Prada. This is the 'elite' street - that's at least what we, the normal people of Seattle, like to call it.
"Excuse me?" I hear a deep voice call from behind me, as I dust the tall, wooden bookshelf at the corner of the shop. Turning around I meet two very tall men dressed in suit and ties looking as sophisticated as I look average. One of them is wearing sunglasses, and as much as I'd like to remind him that we're inside, he looks too intimidating for me to utter a word.
"Uh, yes?"
"Do you work here?" the man who has lost a great amount of hair and gained a tummy over the years asks me, while the one who has his shiny deep brown hair intact and his tummy covered with what I assume is muscle looks around impatiently through his designer glasses.
"Yes, I do."
"Great, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions then, if that's alright-" the man is about to finish his sentence, when the other one interrupts while removing his black shades.
"Bring me the owner."
As soon as the glasses leaves his face, my breath catches in my throat, and my pupils dilate, confused about what they should focus on on his face. His deep brown, thick hair, or his defined jaw complimenting his high cheek bones and chocolate brown eyes? While I wonder about what makes him look so extremely appealing to me, I find myself raising my brows at his demanding words and impolite tone.
"Excuse me?"
"Bring. Me. The. Owner," he says, emphasizing every word as if he's talking to a child, while looking directly into my stunned eyes. How dare he?!
"I'll bring you the owner when you stop acting like a caveman."
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, and I smile in satisfaction. His pretty looks is too deceiving, I might admit. However, my smile vanishes as an evil one spreads on his lips.
"Feisty mouth. They tend to seal when they're unemployed and homeless."
"W-What?"
"I'm buying the shop and you need to find yourself a new job starting tomorrow," I hear him say, before he walks right pass me, making my eyes widen in shock.
"Mr. Montoya!" I hear Mr. Tipton greet him from behind me with all his happy spirit, making me swallow a lump in my throat. I stay glued to the ground, not able to move nor hear the many voices behind me talking calmly, even laughing now and then. When my brain finally register what's happening around me, I turn around only to catch them shake hands.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you," so called Mr. Montoya smiles, patting Mr. Tipton on his slumped shoulders.
"The pleasure is all mine son!" Mr. Tipton's smile reaches his ears and I'm about to throw up. This can't be happening. This can not be happening!
Patting Mr. Tipton on the shoulder for the last time, Montoya turns around to walk away, his glistening eyes meeting mine. The time seems to have stopped as he continues his way towards the exit, his eyes never leaving mine. His smirk grows bigger as his right eyes squints into a wink, just before his arm brushes my shoulder, and he's out the door. Just like that.
Do something! Hannah, do something!
I'm not giving my brain the chance to think twice before I storm out the door, my legs moving quickly as I ignore the pain caused by my shoulders hitting so many people walking by.
"Hey! Stop!" I yell, my brain alarmed. What am I doing?
He turns around abruptly, his brows furrowed.
"Y-You can't- How do you - Why do you, no! You can't-"
"Alaric!" A high pitched voice sounds from the distance, making Montoya stiffen while I ramble my heart out. He turns his head around towards a lady small-running towards us.
"Hey, I am talking to you! You can't just turn your face away from me when I talk to you, you impolite bastard-"
Suddenly I feel my face being grabbed by a pair of big hands, and I'm fiercely being pulled forward, a pair of wet lips slamming onto mine, a gasp catching in my throat. My trembling body is being held up by Montoya's hands refusing to let go of my face, and I feel his wet tongue force it's way into my mouth, warning my brain.
I try to wiggle free desperately, my hands forming fists as I punch him hard on his chest several times, but he doesn't budge the slightest, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. When he finally lets go, I stumble to the ground, my heels finally touching the asphalt. My heart slams against my chest in an unhealty pace as I try to regain my breath desperately, my lips feeling numb and swollen.
"Honey, I've been looking for you!" the lady finally reaches us, looking at Montoya, who ignores my flaming gaze, smiling at her awkwardly. The woman turns her face towards me, her eyes scanning my body length, her lips turning in distaste. I'm about to explode, when I feel the very same hands, grabbing my face, take my hand this time.
"I'll see you later, babe," Montoya says, his eye doing the same wink from the shop, only this time it's almost begging me. Begging me for something that I don't understand.
"Let's go, mother." He turns back to the woman, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her away.
What did just happen?
*A/N*
Hello you guys and welcome to BOSS!
This is my newest story, and I'm so excited. The next few chapters are already written, so they will be up very soon! Will Hannah and Mr. Montoya meet again?
- Of course they will, lol
Please make sure to tell me what you think, so that I'll keep writing! I need your opinions! And hit that like/star button, so that I know you're reading along! I'm so excited, ihhhhhh
Hugs and kisses, Celina G