Chapter 88
Blake's POV
I couldn't sleep the whole night. I've been drinking and cursing the whole time. I heard mom come in late last night but didn't bother to know whether she was with dad or not.
I've been waiting forever for the sun to rise so that I can go where I never thought I'd be going. To Kyrah's place.
At around 8am I dash out of my room and walk downstairs quickly. Unfortunately, I meet my mother along the hallway.
She's in her white robe, holding a glass of wine and cigarette in one hand.
"Blake! Darling, how are you?" her thick British accent can be quite soothing at times, but I'm not in the mood for a chit-chat right now. I stop and sigh.
"Isn't it too early to be drinking and smoking, mother?" I ask, folding my arms in front of my chest.
"Oh dear! It's never too early for anything," she says taking a long puff. "People eat at any time of the day, so that doesn't mean you must have lunch at exactly one o'clock. So, allow me to enjoy myself. I'm trying to relax a little bit," she says while fanning her face with her free hand.
I roll my eyes and begin walking away.
"Don't roll your eyes at me young man... Where are you off to? I can go with you," she says and I turn around.
"No! Just some business meeting," I lie.
"Oh honey, you're such a bad liar. You haven't had any business meetings in a long time since your father hasn't been around," she calls me out.
"Mom, I have to leave–"
"Then tell me where you're going–" she insists.
"I'm not a child anymore!" I yell and she's taken aback for a moment. I'm pissed off already.
"How dare you raise your voice at me? I am your mother!" she says and sips her wine, frowning. "Seems like all Carla has been teaching you is being disrespectful. And you're drunk! Look at you."
"Mom, I'm tired! I'm just tired of you never being there yet when you come back, you order me around as if you know what I like or what I don't like. You don't even know why I am this drunk. I am tired of always having to tell you where I am going, I'm not a child! For crying out loud, can't a man have his own peace in this house, huh? And leave Carla out of this, she has nothing to do with my attitude towards you!" I snap and she gasps.
"Then who is?" she asks and wrinkles her face.
"You! You are the reason why we argue all the time. Our mother-son relationship is total trash. You're never there... Infact, you've never been there since I was seven years–"
"I always come home," she cuts me off.
"Yeah, you do, but all you end up doing is smoke, drink, read your stupid fashion magazines and hang out with Sabrina and her mom. You don't even know what I've been upto lately, do you?" I ask her straight to her face.
"Son, I–"
"How many awards did I win when I was seventeen?" I furiously ask.
"You won awards?" she looks startled.
"See! You don't even know!" I shrug and roll my eyes. "I won five damn awards, and I bet you have no idea what the awards were for."
"Blake," she gasps.
"I thought so," I say and walk past her and out of the house. I slam the door behind me and rush into my car and drive fast.
My family is a mess.
We have all the money in the world and we can buy all the things that we want but for sure, we can't buy happiness. That's the ingredient that's missing in that house.
After that heated argument with my mom, I doubt I'll go back to that house today.
A few minutes later, I pull up at Kyrah's place and I hesitate for a moment.
If she's not around, then her mother probably is, or her dad.
This is a bad idea. I tell myself as I step out of my car.
At the door, I ring the bell and stand there waiting and I realize my head is spinning, I haven't slept all night and I've been up drinking, didn't take a shower even. Oh boy!
After a minute, I ring the doorbell again.
"Coming!" a female voice answers from inside. It's her mom.
"Fuck," I whisper when her footsteps get louder and closer to the door.
When she opens the door, I clear my throat.
"Oh, it's you," she says, her face filled with disgust. A tiny, white terrier is standing by her side, that must be Snow. "What the hell do you want?" she asks in a not-so-welcoming voice.
"Kyrah... Is she around?" I ask while scratching the back of my neck.
"No, now get the hell out of here," she says.
"Ma'am, Kyrah might be in trouble. Her phone went off yesterday and–"
She raises her hand in front of my face to stop me from talking.
"I know where my daughter is, and I know that she's safe, so stop your stupid made up talk and go back where you came from, you loose drunk!" she snaps.
"Mrs. Bailey, please, listen to me, Kyrah is in big trouble," I insist.
"Are you drunk right now?" she sniffs around and for sure detects something. "Listen here you piece of shit, I don't know what you want with my daughter but I am warning you. Stay away from Kyrah unless you want trouble coming your way. I don't care who your fucking father is! Now go away!" she yells.
Did she just call me a piece of shit? That statement has me shocked that I can't even find the words to respond.
Why can't she just listen to me?
"I was talking to her on the phone then I heard a crash and she screamed and her phone has been off since then. Just listen to what I'm trying to say," I beg but she only gets more livid.
"Don't tell me what to do. I don't care if you're the son of the president or the son of Queen Elizabeth. This is my house and don't ever come back here! Talking about my daughter being in danger," she rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. "My daughter is not your responsibility and just incase you think she's after your fucking money, bloody hell, you better forget about that! Give your money to your gold diggers, not to my daughter."
I slam my palm against the wall and the little dog barks at me. Mrs Bailey looks shocked. Kyrah will never forgive me for this.
"Would you fucking listen to me?!" I yell.
"I'm gonna call the police and have you arrested if you don't leave my fucking compound in the next five seconds, you fucking moron. Don't ever come back to this house unless I'm dead, do you hear me? Take your loose drunk ass back home and stay away from my daughter. Asshole!" she says angrily and I can tell that she won't hesitate to do so. I didn't even know such a woman could curse like that. So I walk backwards and shake my head, then head to my car and slam my fist on the wheel as I drive away.
I knew it wouldn't turn out well. So what do I do now?
I hope she's okay. I don't want to imagine that she's with Scott.
"This is not good. Not good at all," I tell myself and decide to go to a bar for a drink.
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