Waking up in the morning with a killer headache and soreness is such a bummer. Knowing that I'm going to get scolded and probably grounded for my mistake is just the icing on the cake.
And no, I did not get drunk and have sex.
With a groan, I reluctantly rose up from my bed. Yesterday was one heck of a day and it had taken its toll on me.
I entered the bathroom with one hand on my head, trying to get rid of the soreness and pain. I knew I shouldn't be having a shower, especially since I had my head hit pretty hard last night. But damn it, I really wanted to have a shower and relax and that's what I did.
Turning on the shower I let out a sigh as the warm water hit me. I had a fetish for really really warm water hitting my body. So warm that my skin turned red afterwards. I don't know why but it causes a sense of relief to my body.
I stood there under the shower, wondering if my refusal of using the Jacuzzi today was actually sensible.
Who cares. I thought. It would help prolong the inevitable scolding I am going to get anyway.
Turning off the shower, I stepped out of it, not really caring that I was spouting water everywhere. I took off the lid to the Jacuzzi and checked the temperature of the water.
Warm enough. I thought before climbing into the pristine white body. I reached to my side and retrieved a remote control where I pressed a few buttons, causing the sprays of water to start. Bubbles and foam started forming in the water as I pressed another button.
I waited until my whole body was covered with the fluffy foam and bath oils and salts before completely relaxing my winded body. I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought of everything and anything as my pent up muscles uncoiled, releasing all the tension bundled up in there. My sleep hadn't been a fitful one and my crankiness was no bonus.
Finally, after spending about an hour in the Jacuzzi, I lathered some shampoo and conditioner into my hair. Gently massaging my scalp I winced when I reached the sore spot. After scrubbing my body with scented lotion, I walked out of the bathroom, wrapping my fluffy blue towel around me.
I almost screamed when I found Jake lying on my bed, texting away on his phone.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hissed, walking to my walk-in wardrobe. I pulled on a loose, black long sleeved top, pairing it off with black ripped jeans and my grey sneakers.
"You know it won't matter even if you were butt-naked," Jake replied rolling his eyes.
I just humphed in reply, letting my hair lose as it was still wet. My hands scrambled around my dressing table for my necklace. But before I could search for it, the door to my bedroom opened as my father stood in the doorway.
Uh-oh.
Jake immediately pushed himself to a sitting position as my father glared at both of us.
"You were supposed to be at breakfast 40 minutes ago," Dad informed me in a stern voice. "And you were supposed to bring her down as soon as possible," he said coldly, pointing a finger at Jake.
"I'm sorry, sir. She just came out of the bathroom, sir," Jake said, bowing his head in respect.
Dad didn't answer. Instead, he walked back down the stairs, a silent command following him, follow me. No pun intended.
Sighing, I ran downstairs to catch up with Dad before he could get even angrier at me.
"Dad, I—" I started but was cut off.
"Did Jake know that you were taking the car alone?" Dad asked, cutting to the chase at once, his voice hard as steel but calm. Like the calm before the storm.
"Yes." I answered after a while of silence in which Dad's grey eyes pierced mine, daring me to lie.
Dad turned towards Jake. "And with what authority did you let her take the car alone?"
"None sir," Jake answered, almost fearfully, keeping his head down like a puppy who had been kicked.
"What is this job given to you for, Jake?" Dad asked.
"To protect Ms Greene, sir."
"And what exactly did you do?"
"I put her in danger, sir."
"Very good," Father said. "And what do you suggest I do to you for neglecting your orders, your job?"
There was a tense silence in the air before my pleading voice cut through it.
"Dad, please. It was my fau—" I was stopped by my father's raised hand.
"Did I allow you to speak?" he asked harshly. I hated this side of my father. I really really hated it. He was like this whenever I asked about my mother too.
My father had two completely bipolar sides. One, a compassionate father which many people didn't get to see, but which I'm always shown and showered with. The other, the cold, heartless beast my father sometimes turns into in times like this, towards me, which is more common to other people.
I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek, trying my hardest not to cry. It hurt when my own father spoke to me like this, as if I wasn't his daughter.
"You didn't answer my question," Father directed at Jake.
"I deserve to be punished, sir," Jake ushered after swallowing, fear dancing in his eyes.
"Good," said Father. "You're dismissed for now."
Jake walked away silently, not before giving me a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder. I took a deep breath, waiting for what was to come.
Dad pointed at the chair across from him. "Sit." I sat down without complaint and looked up at him through my eyelashes.
Dad took a cigar from the tray on the coffee table and lit it. I scrunched my face up in disgust. I hated cigars and cigarettes. I didn't understand why you would lower your own lifespan that way. Do you not care about those who love you and how worried they would be if you had cancer?
Dad usually doesn't smoke. On rare occasions such as this one, when he is stressed and angry, he doesn't prevent himself from taking huge drags of death into his lungs from the cancer stick.
"That man was following you," he stated, all business. I nodded in reply. "Why didn't you call us then than waiting for so long?"
"I didn't know that man was following me. I just thought that he was a regular racer in the street and I overtook him. After I dropped—" I suddenly stopped, aware that I hadn't told my father anything about my friend.
"After you dropped whom?" Dad asked suspiciously.
"Rebecca." I said the first person coming to my mind. "We wanted to hang around for a bit. Without security watching our every move." I added, quickly forming up a convincing lie.
My father nodded at me to continue, seemingly satisfied with my explanation.
"After I dropped Rebecca, I realized that the same person who I had overtook was tailing me. And my phone was off. So I pressed the emergency button as soon as was possible."
"Tell me. How did that man look?" Father asked.
"He looked to be about 25 years. He had dark brown hair, almost black. That's all I remember."
"What about the weapons he was carrying?"
"He was carrying a knife."
"Only a knife?"
"I think I saw a gun too, but he didn't use it on me or anything."
"What exactly happened after you reached that dead end?" Dad asked, sighing.
"I crashed on the wall, since I realized only at the last moment that it was a dead end. I hit my head and felt too dizzy to lock the car doors. The man came towards me but suddenly it seemed as if he had heard something else so he went the other way, near the trash bins. I'm not sure what exactly happened after that, it's all blurry. I only remember him running away a few minutes before you came."
Dad nodded, satisfied with the information. But before he could say anything, I cautiously walked over to him. Taking a seat next to him on the sofa, I said,
"I won't do it again, Dad. I promise. I won't go alone without your knowledge."
Dad sighed again, nodding. "Fine, but you better keep that promise."
I hugged him tightly. "Thanks Pops."
He chuckled at the nickname, ruffling my hair. By that action, I knew I was forgiven.
"Dad, please don't go too hard on Jake. I barely got him to agree to lend me the car for a few hours," I begged.
Dad shook his head. "I can't, sweetheart. You know that. I have a reputation to uphold. And I need to make sure that this never happens again."
I sighed. "Just not too hard...anyway, I'm starving."
Dad chuckled once again before telling me to go and get some food from the chef. Skipping all the way, I entered the kitchen.
"Hey Robert," I greeted the slightly balding benevolent chef.
"Good morning, Miss Greene," Robert replied warmly, his hands busy as he whisked an egg.
"I told you to call me Elaine." I groaned. "What are you making?"
Robert, our chef for as long as I could remember, was kind of like a second father-figure to me. He was nearing his forties and treated me like his own daughter. Whenever Dad wasn't at home and I needed advice, I went to Robert. Especially those kind of advices where you just can't ask your father without him going all, 'go on, I'll take out my guns'.
Yah, boy-problem advices. Robert was pretty good at keeping secrets too. And he knew about my mother because my father hired him just after my parents got married. Many evenings I was found engrossed in the stories Robert uncovered about my parents, in the kitchen.
My father had no idea that Robert was feeding me bits and pieces of my mother's life. What kind of a woman she was and how my father acted towards her. By the way Robert described them, it was like my father was a whole new person, where he laughed a lot more than he did now. He was happy. My mom kept him happy. They were like the perfect couple in fairytales where they were said to live happily ever after, with me of course.
But then came the tragic death of my mother. I was only 8 at the time. I still do not know completely how she died. And Robert refused to give any details or uncover anything about her death.
"Just an egg for your highness," he teased.
"Oh great! I feel like I haven't eaten anything in ages." I groaned, rubbing my stomach which growled right on time.
"Sure Ms—I mean Elaine," he smiled.
I took a seat at the dining table. I didn't have to wait long before the smell of food hit my senses. Soon, a plate of waffles piled one top of the other and drizzled in chocolate syrup and Nutella with whipped cream and chocolate shaving sprinkled on top arrived right in front of me, making me lick my lips in hunger. On another plate was a slice of buttered toast with an omelette stuffed inside and a few pieces of bacon.
I started with the toast, scarfing it down before moving onto the waffles. I nearly moaned in delight as the chocolatey goodness attacked my tastebuds. Before long, I sat, sipping on my cold orange juice with two empty plates in front of me. I thanked the chef after cleaning my hands and mouth and kissed his cheek before heading upstairs.
I made my way into my lavender and grey toned room. Opening up my laptop, I quickly fished out some information for my history essay and started working on it while listening to Wavin' flag. I needed an upbeat and encouraging song to finish this long essay.
As I researched the points of my essay, I heard a ping sound going off on the device next to me. Picking up the phone, I was momentarily distracted from my work when I saw a message from an unknown number flash up my screen.
Unknown Number,
Hey! It's Andrew.
I was wondering whether we could schedule the meet-up we missed yesterday.
Me,
Hi!
Sure.
I don't have any plans for today, anyway.
Unknown number,
Awesome! What about 5:30pm at the Bonzone Cafe?
Me,
Isn't that the new one that's opened just recently?
Andrew - History Boy,
Yep!
I heard that they have a bowling alley in there so I figured we would have fun.
Me,
Great!
I love bowling although I haven't played for quite a while now.
Andrew - History Boy
I bet I could beat you.
Me,
Game on, Drewy boy.
Prepare to lose.
Andrew - History Boy,
We shall see that at the end of the game.
Wanna make a bet?
Me,
Sure.
Though you should know that
I'm the queen of challenges. 😉
Andrew - History Boy,
Cocky aren't we?
And I'll be the judge of that.
Me,
So what's the bet?
Andrew - History Boy,
You pay for the food if I win and maybe I can get a kiss?😉
Me,
Keep dreaming, Drewy boy.
What do I get if I win?
Andrew - History Boy,
I pay for the food. Simple.
Me,
And get me an ice cream.
Andrew - History Boy,
Fine. And an ice cream.
Me,
Then I'm going to definitely win.
Prepare to be Endgame, Drewy boy.
Andrew - Freefood Guy,
Are you pulling a Taylor Swift on me, Greene?
And don't call me Drewy boy.
Me,
Why not, Drewy boy?
Does that make u squirm?😏
Andrew - Freefood Guy,
You wish.
Alright, gotta go.
See you at 5:30pm.
I placed my phone back on the bed and groaned when I saw my unfinished history work.
C'mon Elaine. You can do this. I prepped myself to finish the essay.
But just a few minutes. Just a quick trip to the fridge and then back again.
Ok fine. No one can refuse food anyway.
Safe to say, I never completed my history essay.