Okay, so, the story gets kind of serious now. Like, there will still be amusing parts, but it starts to get into the real plot line.
My writing this is practice while I'm editing my finished book that I'm working at getting published, so... I'm trying to do real writing here, not just stuff to laugh at. Anyway, I hope everyone still likes it! Thanks for reading!
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Kal
I decided Friday morning, the fourth morning of my little bet with Grey I decided it was time to maim his car. Not to the point where he couldn't fix it, obviously. It was going to be mine soon. But enough that he would be pissed. So I woke up early and grabbed a couple bottles of spray paint and headed out. It was six when I reached his house. Greyson would be in the pool and wouldn't leave his house until seven, giving me more than enough time. I pulled out the can of bright orange paint and started shaking it up.
"That stuff won't stick very well, you know," the deep breath came from the door. I looked up to see a handsome, slightly older man with blond hair, streaked with gray and bright blue eyes. He looked like an older version of Grey.
"Mr. Beaumont." I hastily moved the can to behind my back. He smiled and put down his briefcase.
"You now me, my girl. But who are you?"
"Kalshan Dunham. Greyson and I are, erm, dating." I flashed a quick grin.
"And yet you wish to vandalize his car." I didn't say anything. Greyson's father laughed and opened the garage door. He came back out a moment later with a can of black spray paint.
"This won't come off as easily."
"Mr. Beaumont-" he held up a hand.
"Max. I insist."
"Um, Max. I really wasn't..." I shut myself up. Obviously I was going to do it. I had the can in my hand. "I want it to come off. Eventually." He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Well, um, Grey and I made this bet and if I win I get the car." Max laughed.
"And what's the bet?"
"That he won't be able to handle me for six weeks." I really hoped I never met Mr. Max Beaumont ever again in my life.
"And what does my son get if he wins?" I just blushed, not knowing exactly how to answer that. Max laughed again. "I see." I blushed even more.
"I- uh- I..."
"Don't think I don't know about my son's activities, dear. I'm very well aware. I'm also aware that he can handle a lot more than you think. And there's a good chance he's going to win. You'll probably enjoy it, too." I opened and closed my mouth.
"What did you say to so horrify my girlfriend, Maximus?" Grey asked, walking up to us. I handed the spray paint back to Maximus Beaumont. We both ignored Greyson's question.
"Thanks. But I need red." He nodded.
"Of course. Have a good trip, Greyson." Mr. Beaumont got into his Porsche and drove off, leaving Greyson and I to just look at each other.
"You're leaving somewhere, then?" I asked. Grey nodded.
"Yeah. Um, I have to go to Scottsdale for a few days." He held up the leather duffel. I nodded.
"Have a good time then. If that's the right phrase for your reasons." Grey nodded with a wry smile.
"Have a good time works as well as anything. I'll see you in a few days." I nodded and watched his car drive off. Then, with a baffled shrug, got into my car and headed for Capitol Grounds. I would actually have time to enjoy my coffee that day.
Grey
"Boarding first class for flight 2043, service to Los Angeles," the cool female came from gate 7 where I sat sipping a latté. I stood and hoisted my bag over my shoulder to board the plain. It was a long ride. Four and a half hours. Most of it I just stared blankly out of my window, a frown pulling my brows together.
Finally the plane landed. I got off and walked through LAX to the curb where I hailed a taxi and got in, ordering the man,
"Promises facility." He gave a curt nod and started driving. I watched the city fly by me. Tall buildings with people streaming out to go home after work. Expensive, European cars flashed by as the taxi kept driving. Driving through LA to west LA past beautiful homes, shopping centers. I saw it, but I didn't take it in. I think I was still in shock, unsure of what exactly to do. Then we were in front of the big house. I thanked the driver and got out, flipping him a few bills, then walked into the office.
"Welcome to Promises Rehabilitation Center," the secretary said warmly. "Are you here to visit?"
"Yes," I answered. "My twin, Anabelle Beaumont."
