"Lyla,” My dad called that night. I drifted my focus away from my math homework, and towards him.
He braced unto his hands that were gripping the island counter. His face was set in a frown and his brows pulled together, as if he was displeased about something.
I raised one of my brows quizzically. “What’s wrong?”
“I called the mortgage company today. Our payment was two thousand dollars short," He states, looking at me expectantly.
I swallowed nervously and looked unto my paper of unsolved math equations. I totally discarded Percy’s advice of telling my father that our funds will be short this month. Him finding out this way, is going to make this even more difficult for me and immediately I regretted my cowardly actions.
“I couldn’t pay all of it, I wanted to spilt some for our home expenses without dipping into our savings,” I says softly.
“What?” he hissed and I flinched slightly, “Did those people not pay you?”
“No…they…they are changing our contract. They won’t be buying any of my paintings until next month Dad. I-I wanted to tell you since last week, but I didn’t want you to worry-”
“WORRY?” he shouts and I snapped my eyes to his shockingly. A raging storm was prominent in his eyes, as it always is when he is upset. But my father never raises his voice at me. Ever. “How about me going to prison Lyla?”
I gripped my pencil tightly feeling my blood boiling in me. “There’s nothing to worry about Dad. I had sent an email for an extension and they approved it. Plus I should be receiving a call from the gallery sometime this week. Every thing will be back on track, I promise," I explained hurriedly.
A foreign fright consumed my mind, at my father getting abusive. I can’t remember a time he’s been this livid with me.
He didn’t bother to respond to me. Instead, he stared at me for a long, tension-filled moment, gripping the island so tightly, his fingers turned pale, before quietly walking towards the staircase and disappearing a few seconds later. When he did, I exhaled in relief and ran a hand through my hair. I took two deep inhales, in hope to calm my pumping heart, while I pondered on my father’s behavior.
There was something frightening about him.
The thought made me uneasy, and for the first time in my life, I felt unsafe around him.
That night I went to bed with worry. I suddenly grew desperate at gaining a response from the Gallery immediately. I can handle all the matters of becoming a more prominent painter for them later. Right now, I need everything to go track as it once was.
The next morning, I woke up extremely early. My lack of a good rest showed under my eyes, and I had to use some concealer to hide it. I slipped into a pair of dark blue jeans, a white blouse and a dark leather jacket I haven’t worn in ages.
I pushed my feet into my black converse, grabbed my phone and quietly shuffled downstairs.
It was eight by the time I decide to leave, and my father still didn’t come downstairs. I chewed my lips in thought while I walked towards the bus stop.
I didn’t like the fact that my father was upset with me. He was all I had. I never knew my mom. I heard she died during child birth and left some money as insurance for my college tuition. My father was working pretty well for as long as I could remember. Then one of the contractors he worked with screwed him over and eventually he started wallowing in debts.
It got so bad that he started to drink and gamble a lot. Vector Academy added fuel to the fire when they posted his debts on their website, and it was then I knew I had to somehow step in.
Deciding to sell my paintings was a big step for me. It was a responsibility I took on, not just for me but for my father. He always worked so hard. The Gallery paid me a lot of money, but no matter what my father still showed me bills of things he was still owing for.
So I became the bread winner.
A car horn blared somewhere beside me, and I jumped in fright away from my thoughts. I looked at the road and pulled my brows together at the unfamiliar white Mercedes Benz, that pulled up at the curb of the sidewalk. I squinted through the glass windows and my mouth fell when I saw the gorgeous male grinning behind the wheels.
“Kyle?” I shouted in surprised and hop into the passenger side.
The car smelt fairly knew, and the seats were so firm yet comforting. A low hum of Ed Sheeran was playing from the radio, and I looked from it to Kyle’s shining hazel-green eyes. They looked at me with such adoration, I felt myself melt inside. “You have a car?” I asked.
He chuckled and looked on the road once he started driving again. “Yeah, I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself when I first got here. So I told my dad I’ll wait until after a month for him to send it over," He explains.
I scoffed feeling impressed. “Wow, you must be loaded.”
He snorted, briefly glancing at me. “Not entirely, but something close to it. There is a lot happening at the company now. And well, I’ll need some way of reaching there in case of anything.”
I frowned slightly in thought of how his father’s company involved him. I didn’t even thought about he being the Heir to it. A sudden realization dawned on me that this may mean that Kyle will go back to New York at the end of senior year. Dammit! How could I not realize that?
I swallowed and forced a smile. “So, what kind of company is it?”
His smile faltered a fraction. “Uh, you know..d-distribution of stuff," He says vaguely.
“Of what kind of stuff?”
“We...we collect things. And then re-sell them. It’s not anything major,” He explains and I nodded in understanding. That sounds like some archaeology stuff to me but I didn’t ponder on it too long.
Instead, I pressed into the comfortable seat, as my mind wandered to my own father again.
“Are you okay?” Kyle suddenly asks.
I sighed. “Not really. My father found out about the new contract I have with the gallery.”
“What did he say?”
“He was upset. Extremely upset. It was almost frightening to be honest,” My eyes glanced at Kyle and recognized the displeased look on his face. “What is it?”
“I can’t understand why he is pressuring you so much. This shouldn’t be your responsibility.”
I shrug. “But it is Kyle. And I’ll explain everything to you soon.”
“How about tonight?” he now grins sheepishly.
My brows pulled together in bewilderment and his smile widen at my facial expression. “A date,” He continues.
I blushed. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
“Yes. And you’re not allowed to say no.”
“So, you’re not asking but demanding,” I proclaim with a broad grin. He knew how to take me from a dull mood almost instantly. And I loved that about him.
“Exactly so. What do you say? My place? I’m a pretty good cook, plus there is an amazing view in my back yard," He explains, glancing at me with puppy dog eyes. His bottom lip pouted, reminding me of how full they felt against mines and I grinned at him.
“With pleasure," I answered.
*~*~*~*
To: theseeker@vision.com.
From: johnathanharrington@vision.com
Subject: Meeting
I hope you have thought a lot about what I had proposed couple weeks ago.
My father will be passing through Virginia Beach this weekend. See Attachment below for the details of his location.
Please confirm immediately if you will able to meet him this Saturday at 3pm.
------------------------------------------------------
I sighed in relief at the email. I typed a quick response confirming my presence and quickly pocketed my phone, just as Mr. Weebly walked in to start his class.
I was relieved that I could finally settle all the questions I had in mind, even though I haven’t fully thought about what I would actually choose to do, as it regards becoming the face of Vision. That sounded like a ton load of extra responsibilities. And I was fearful that it will cause art to become more of a burden than a love of mines.
Mr. Webbly’s voice sauntered over the room and I pulled my focus to him. I suddenly realized that everyone was going back into the groups he initially paired us as, and before I could even think of the culprit, the chair beside me was pulled backwards and Jackson plopped into it.
I glared into his icy blue eyes and he smirked. “Lightweight," He greeted.
“What will it take for you to stop calling me that?”
“The moment you grow some balls,” He says simply.
I frowned. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, what’s our word?” he nods towards the piece of scrap paper Mr. Weebly had placed on my desk moments ago and I took it up.
“Love," I said in a bored tone.
My response must have perked an interest in him, because he quickly sat up and leaned towards me. The action caused his woodsy scent to float towards me and I met his blue orbs with an indifferent feeling.
Up this close, without him scowling, he was actually quite handsome. Only in this moment, would I ever admit that to myself though.
“I like that word," He says calmly and I raised my brows.
“Are you in love or something?”
“More like ‘or something,’” he answered immediately, smiling softly.
I scoffed. “Wow, he has a heart," I mused sarcastically.
His scowl returned and he leaned away from me again. “Now why can’t you stand up to your father like that?” he asks, then made a ‘tsking’ sound with his mouth, expressing his disapproval.
My brows knitted in confusion. This was the second time Jackson brought up my father and I was beginning to think he knew more than he let on. Something must have happened when he saw my father at that pub that night.
Surely, no else- apart from Kyle- knows that I sell my paintings. And there was no way he could have told Jackson. Maybe Selena saw my signature on the receipts and put two-and-two together?
“What do you know about my father?” I asked lowly, so no one could overhear our conversation.
He stared at me for a few silent seconds, hiding all trace of emotion. Instead, he seem to read my eyes and my thoughts, before shaking his head and opening his notebook. “Let’s just work."
I didn't push him on the matter after that. However, I was determined to get some response from him afterwards. Jared doesn’t know much about my father and I highly doubt that would be a topic they would want to discuss as guys. Plus, Jackson brought it up again, which mean the was trying to call my attention to something. Maybe it could answer why my father freaked out so much last night?
As soon as the bell rang, Jackson sprung from the seat. I quickly hand in our group class work, and rushed out behind him.
“Jackson!” I called boldly behind him.
He paused a couple meters from where Jared stood with some other basketball players and I could see the look of distaste and confusion written on their faces at my presence.
Already familiar with their expressions, I looked towards Jackson who stiffly glanced back me. He looked uncomfortable.
“Are you wishing for a death wish? We’re not friends Lightweight," He states coldly.
I rolled my eyes. “I already know that. But you know something about my father don’t you?”
He shrug. “So what if I do?”
“Then I deserve to know. Besides you keep taunting me about it," I frown and folded my arms.
He sighed, turning his entire body to face me. “Look, It’s not my place to rat out on your old man alright? And I’m not taunting you, I’m just trying to tickle your curiosity a bit. In hope that maybe, you won’t be so naïve about him," He explained vaguely and it only added unto my confusion.
Unfortunately, before I could even ask him what he meant, he turned and walked away.
So what are your thoughts on Lyla's father?
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Thanks for reading :)
-With Love, Chan.