Chapter Twelve

The day seem to drag like a nightmare, my mind reeling with thoughts of what had happened at lunch. My actions have compromised the logic of the situation and I had brought myself a ticket to karma road.

Maybe this was god's way of torturing me with hell on earth, or maybe this was the past coming back to bite me in the ass.

I couldn't concentrate in class, because my mind kept replaying the kiss I had with my ex, Bryson. My 16 year old self would have laughed at my face for being a hypocrite because damn, I just kissed a guy who happens to be in a relationship. And here's the kicker, to my best friend Ciara. Fate definitely has its way of kicking your ass to the curb.

Bryson however, apologized much to my indignant protest. I explicitly said that he didn't need to, but that boy can be so persistent, I just had to find it adorable.

I would never tell him that. That would inflate his ego ten times its original size.

To my relief, the bell shrilled and finally, school was over for the day. I gathered all of my belongings, jamming them all in my bag, and swiftly slung it on my shoulders. I took a deep breath then walked out of the class room, heading for the parking lot.

Going home wasn't appealing to me at the moment. My heart wasn't stable to see Derek's handsome face, and I couldn't keep up with a cool facade. Maybe I'll just kill some time at the mall, looking around. Yeah, that would be good, so I'll go along with that. I hastened my pace towards my car and dug my keys from my pocket.

"Reagan!"

I groaned. Somebody really hates me up there. Can't a girl get a break from reality?

I grudgingly turned around and saw Bryson walking towards me with a slightly miffed Ciara in tow. What do they want now?

I put on a fake smile, "Hey. What's up?"

They stopped and Bryson gave me a warm smile,"Hey Reagan. It's good you haven't left yet."

Huh? I rose my eyebrows,"Why?" I asked, curious.

He looked nervous, "Uh, I was hoping that you'd have dinner with us tonight." He saw that I was about to protest so he beat me to it,"Dad requested it. He missed you a lot so, yeah."

I frowned, "What about your mom? She hates me, remember?"

Ciara slightly smirked and put in her lame two cents,"No, she doesn't, Reagan. Eat dinner with us. Come on."

Oh, she's playing the dirty card. She wants to see me getting my eyes clawed out by Mrs. Weiz. I rolled my eyes at her, "I didn't know you're bipolar, Ciara. Last time I checked, you were upset that I wasn't paying attention with your babble."

She glared,"I am trying to be nice, Reagan."

I folded my arms over under my chest "Is this your way of saying sorry? Because it's not working." I've already seen past your facade, Ciara. You can't fool me.

Bryson sighed and stood in between us,"Girls, girls! Stop it. You guys are best friends. You shouldn't be fighting."

I scoffed at this. Best friends? I wasn't so sure about that anymore,"Whatever. Keep your girlfriend in check, Bryson. I doubt if she sees me as her best friend if she keeps up her prissy bitch act."

Ciara gasped,"Reagan, how could you? I am not acting like a prissy bitch!" she cried, getting into defensive mode.

Bryson sighed again, not sure on what to do with girls who are at the brink of getting into a cat fight,"So, how about it? Dad would be happy to see you." He said.

That doesn't sound so bad. I haven't seen Mr. Weiz for a long time. He was like a father to me, so I owe him this much as a visit and besides, I wasn't ready to go home.

I shrugged, "Sure. Why not? I'm in no hurry to go home."

He grinned,"Great. By the way, we moved to a new house a few months after you left, so just follow our lead."

I nodded,"Fine by me." Then shrugged.

I'm not so sure about Bryson's mom though.


***********************

"Whoa." I breathed as I got out from my car.

Bryson's house was definitely huge. It was a cream colored Colonial mansion, fit for a very influential family such as the Weiz. It was really beautiful in fact, I couldn't help but compare it to Derek's gorgeous brick walled mansion.

I shook my head, clearing those irrelevant thoughts. There you go again, Reagan, thinking about that stupid, handsome, sexy, multilingual jerk of a man. UGH!

Bryson got out from his car, chuckling at my reaction,"It's just a house, Reagan."

I gave him a deadpanned look, "Just a house?" then I shifted my expression to a teasing one, "Quite the modest, aren't we, Bryson?"

He rolled his eyes,"Oh, shut up. You know my mom and her taste for elegance and style. She wants to keep up with appearances."

I chuckled, remembering how her mom gushes about celebrity houses on TV, "Yeah, I know."

He nudged his head to the front door, "How about we go inside. Dad would be so ecstatic to see you."

I nodded and we followed them to the front door. I took my time, my eyes darting left and right, taking in the place. The bushes were neatly trimmed with a variety of flowers. In the middle of the driveway was a fountain with a angel statue playing a harp at the top. Bryson glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with my slow pace, "Come on, Reagan." He said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

I snapped out of my daze and followed them to a now opened front door and got in. The inside was even more gorgeous than the outside. Up on the ceiling was a crystal chandelier, glistening when a light hit on its crystal. I could see paintings on the wall on the far left, I think it was a Van Gogh. I heard those were hard to find, and expensive too. There were large Ming dynasty vases on corners as well. Near the wide parted stairs was a cabinet filled with crystal knick knacks.

Mrs. Weiz has outdone herself with the house decorations.

Again, enough about these cultured observations! It would only remind me of a certain person who taught me this artsy shamnsy stuff.

"Dad, we're home! Reagan's here!" Bryson yelled from the foyer.

I heard footsteps then a familiar older version of Bryson was now in view. "Reagan, pumpkin!" he swiftly engulfed me in a big hug and lifted me up in the air. I was giggling like a girl when he twirled me around. Mr. Weiz was like a teddy bear. He was burly and buff for a 38 year old man but oddly, it doesn't show on his face. He looked young and energetic.

He put me down on my feet and grinned, "Look at you." He looked me up and down but not in a perverted way, "You look so gorgeous!" he said then hugged me again but this time, a little bit hard.

"Mr. Weiz... Can't... Breathe..." I choked from that boa constricting hug. Man, was he strong!

He chuckled and let me go, "Oops. Sorry, pumpkin." He said then smiled breathtakingly. Bryson did take after his father. It was their trademark with wooing women (according to Bryson anyway, and I fell for that two years ago), "I'm glad Bryson asked you to have dinner with us. I heard you were back so I didn't waste the chance to tell my idiot of a son to have you over."

Bryson glared at his dad, "Dad, I am not an idiot."

"Well, you're stupid then." He retorted.

Bryson sighed, "It's the same as idiot, dad." He said, shaking his head.

He rolled my eyes, "Idiot, stupid, whatever." He said then took my hand to lead me to the dining room, "Come, pumpkin. Mercedes prepared your favorite; Mash potatoes and Rosemary Pot Roast."

I grinned, "I can't wait. Mercedes makes the best Pot Roast." I've always been close to Mercedes, their house cook. She taught me the tricks on how to cook good food and I've learn from the best. She even taught me some of her ass kicking dishes and desserts.

"Okay. While waiting for Mercedes, let's go to the game room and play some Foosball." Mr. Weiz suggested with a grin.

I nodded and smiled. It was good to see Mr. Wiez again and not only that...

He's still a doofus.


**********************



Dinner time finally rolled by and we were now seated on their 20 seat elegant mahogany dining table, waiting for Mrs. Weiz. She was tied up from her office, which was, by the way, somewhere in this big house, with an important stuff so she will join us shortly. I told Mr. Weiz not to tell her I was here. I just wanted to surprise her with my mind blowing presence, for irritation purposes.

Cue in the evil laugh.

The seating arrangements was satisfactory, except for the part where I have to sit next to Mrs. Weiz. Ciara was seating across from me with Bryson right next to her. Mr. Weiz was seated at the head of the table, because he said and I quote, 'I'm the big dawg in this crib'. That was really gangster of him.

The door swung open and in comes Mrs. Weiz with an apologetic face, "I'm sorry, darlings. I was caught up with a phone call and was really--" her face turned sour when she saw me, "Oh. What's the whore doing here?"

See? I told you she hates me.

I mustered up a smile, though I know I would look constipated, "Hello Mrs. Weiz. Its good to see you again. How are you?"

She sauntered towards the seat that was open for her and sat down, "I was doing fine, 'till you showed up." She sneered then turned to look at her husband, who was glowering at her, "What's she doing here, honey?"

I looked across the table and saw Ciara smirking triumphantly. Why I oughta. So she planned to gang up on me with Mrs. Weiz.

Mr. Weiz sighed, "I invited her to dinner, Dayna. Can you please act civil just for a little while? You're beig rude."

Mrs. Weiz pouted her lips, "But, honey..."

"Dayna." He warned. The tone of finality from him had her shut up and sulk in her seat. My insides were smirking with joy.

The door that was connected to the kitchen swung open and Mercedes came in with a tray of food. When she saw me, she gasped and ran over to my seat and engulfed me in a hug, "Senorita Reagan!" she squealed.

I patted her back affectionately, "Hola Mercedes. Como estas?" I said in Spanish. [Hello Mercedes. How are you?]

She pulled back and grinned, "You know how to speak Spanish." She said, amazed. " Muy bien, gracias." She replied. [Very good, thank you.]

I chuckled, "Let's say I had lessons." With a hot man might I add, I added in my mind bitterly.

"Mercedes, are you planning to starve us to death or just going to marvel at Reagan's linguistic abnormality?" she spat with disdain.

I rolled my eyes, "Knowing how to speak foreign languages isn't abnormal, Mrs. Weiz. It's called being cultured." I said condescendingly to make a point.

She scoffed, "What do you know about being cultured? Your mother was a skank who slept with his ex husband best friend and she barely knows about style. Just look at the way she dresses; it's disgusting and outdated." she sneered.

"Dayna!" Mr. Weiz bellowed.

I held up a hand to Mr. Weiz. I had enough of her insults, "Mrs. Weiz, I don't know why you hate me so much but please, a woman of class such as yourself would not talk ill about my mother, judging her for how she looks or dresses herself up. Your foul mouth itself is a representation that you are an undignified woman in contrast to how you talk about my mother like she's some trash; quite ironic, since my mother was a respectable woman and has never looked down on people, unlike you. I suggest you keep your comments to yourself, or would you like me to keep going and list all of your female dog qualities?"

She was lost for words. The queen bitch of the Weiz family had no comeback for my impromptu speech. She opened her mouth to retaliate but unfortunately, nothing came out. Mr. Weiz had to stifle his laugh because seriously, the look on her face was like a fish out of water.

Mr. Weiz cleared his throat, "Um Mercedes, kindly serve the food please?"

"Si señor." She said. [Yes sir]

After the food was served, we started eating. It was slightly awkward, since Ciara did all the talking. However, Mrs. Weiz was very much into the subject, much to my dismay. She gushed about the this store she saw the other day and the clothes were so cute and all. It was annoying, really.

Mr. Weiz piped up, just to change the subject, "So Reagan, where are you staying?"

I put down my fork, "I'm staying with Derek Kolinkar. He took me in as his ward."

His eyes widened for a fraction then composed himself, "Oh, I heard that he is a philanthropist."

Mrs. Weiz snorted, "More like a murderer."

I glared at her, "Derek is not a murderer."

"And how would you know?" she retorted.

"I should know, because I lived with him for two years, and I can say he is not a murderer." I countered fiercely then added, "How do you know Derek, anyway?" I only introduced Derek to Bryson and Ciara, so how come they are assuming things about him?

Ciara just have to butt in, "Well, he's a hot murderer."

Bryson sighed. I could tell he was getting flustered with all this bantering, "Ciara, mom, just freaking shut up. Can you guys just keep it to a mum 'till dinner is over? You don't have to gang up on Reagan."

Ciara narrowed his eyes to slits, "Are you defending her, Bryson?"

He nodded, "Yes I am. Both of you are way out of line."

She stood up from her seat, "May I be excused? I think I have lost my appetite."

Mrs. Weiz stood up as well, "Same for me. I don't want to be in the same room with this degenerate."

"Dayna." Mr. Weiz said, frustrated. I don't know why she put up with that woman all these years.

Both of the drama queens huffed and stomped out of the room.

All of us went quiet. I have to admit, without Ciara and Mrs. Weiz in the room surprisingly lifted the atmosphere into a good one, stress free to be exact.

"Well that was interesting." I said.

Bryson and Mr. Weiz snapped their head to me then laughed.


************************

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Bryson. Mercedes outdid herself again." I said leaning on my car.

He chuckled, "When she knew that you were coming, she immediately whip out her cook book for your favourite meal." He stepped a little bit closer to me, "She likes you a lot, you know. She was devastated when you left." He said in a low tone.

I looked down on my sneakers, unable to look at his face, "Yeah well, who's fault was that?" I muttered.

He sighed, "I know. But Reagan, I'm sorry." I could feel his body, heat seeping into my skin, and I just wanted to step forward to close the gap, but I controlled myself.

I shrugged, "What's done is done, Bryson. Don't worry about it."

"Reagan--" but he was cut off.

I looked up and saw Ciara bounding up to us. She was eyeing both me and Bryson suspiciously, "Can I have a word with my best friend, Bryson?" she asked sweetly then added, "alone."

He hesitated for a bit but nodded, "Alright." He said then glanced at me, "See you in school, Reagan." And he went back inside the house.

Ciara dropped her sweet act and glared at me, "Listen here, Reagan, I want you to stay away from Bryson. He's my boyfriend. He's mine. There will be no you and him again. You hear me?" she sneered in my face.

I saw this coming already so I am not a least bit threatened by her, nor surprised, "You finally shown your true colors Ciara. I had no idea you could be like this since we had been best friends since we were young."

She scoffed, "Please. I was just pretending so that I could get close to Bryson. He was so in love with you and when you left, it was my opportunity to snare him, and it worked."

I smirked, "I am not so sure if you haved snared him completely, Ciara. That boy hasn't moved on from me."

She glared, "He has moved on. I know so." She was trying to convince herself that she was right, but she knows she was wrong.

I chuckled, "Okay, if you say so, Ciara."

She glared, "Well... umm... yeah, well... I know so!" she said indignantly.

I sighed, "You know what, Ciara? Screw you. If you keep on royally screwing me up then whoptidoo! You did a good job. I had enough of your hostility!" I got in my car and started up the engine, "Goodbye, bitch." And I left her standing there, eating my dust.


***********************


"Reagan! Where the hell have you been? I've been calling your cell and all I got was your voicemail!" Derek roared the moment I entered the house.

I winced at the tone. Geez, someone had their boxers in a bunch.

"I was at Bryson's. He invited me over for dinner." I said, keeping up the cool act, although I was swooning how sexy he looked when he's angry. Ah, hell.

He glared at me, "The least you could do was call and let me know. And Bryson's house? Really?"

I scoffed, "Sheesh, I've only been gone for a couple hours and you're acting like an overprotective jealous boyfriend." What's wrong with him anyway?

"I AM ACTING LIKE AN OVERPROTECTIVE JEALOUS BOYFRIEND BECAUSE I AM, REAGAN!" he shouted at my face. What the hell was he saying?

I was already furious with his outburst. Why in freaking hell was he screaming at me like a banshee?!

"You are not my boyfriend, Derek," I growled loudly. "You are my guardian. My brother. My benefactor. My best friend. Have you forgotten that, or have you hit your head recently?"

He must have realized what he said because he softened his look, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I was just worried that something might happened to you. I don't know what came over me," He said as he moved closer to me. I took a step back and he looked hurt with what I did, but he covered it with a small smile.

My head all of a sudden throbbed as if thousands of sledgehammers have rammed into my head at one go, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call but seriously," I paused because the throbbing pain increased to a ten fold."Ow, my head." I gritted from the pain then held my head with my hand, massaging it.

Derek looked panicked, "Little one, is something wrong?" he asked while supporting my arm, because I was about to go limp from the pain.

The pain was excruciating. Derek's voice was amplified as if there was a boom box near my ear and it was not helping the pain, "My head," I gasped. "It hurts."

"Little one..." he trailed.

I screamed from the pain. It was vicious and I was gasping and panting, not able to handle the excruciating spasm.

"Little one, please say something." Derek pleaded, not knowing what to do.

With one last look at Derek, I blacked out.