I sat in the living room listening to a voice record of my dad and Mr. George before my dad killed him. I’ve been listening to this record for the past six months (since George was killed). I wanted to know the weapon George was killed with and where dad dumped his corpse. I had secretly bugged all the offices in the school when my dad first started acting suspicious.
On the day George was killed, Chase and I were listening to George’s love advance to Miss Tatiana, our theatre teacher.
Immediately Tatiana left, dad came in and there began a heated argument between the two, which led to a scream from George and he was heard falling on his swivel chair and my dad said, “You led to your death George and I’ll also kill anyone who finds out.”
I inhaled deeply, then took of my headset and laid on the sofa. I still couldn’t decipher how George was killed or where his corpse was.
“Davis” Jonathan my manager called walking into the living room and I merely glanced at him. “Davis you’re always listening to this,” Jonathan said and picked up my headset.
“You wouldn’t wanna listen to this,” I prompted and took the headset from him.
“That’s your business,” Jonathan said with a shrug. “I’m here for the company.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to listen.”
“Davis there’s a new trend of denim and you need to model it. You’ve been absent for two weeks,” Jonathan complained.
“I think the best option is to sign out.” I raised my brow in a threat.
“RVA Fashion can’t lose you.”
“Then they’ll have to understand that I’ve got my own problems other than modelling,” I half yelled and got up to a sitting posture.
“Well I’m here for something else.”
“Hope it’s not about the company?”
“No not at all.”
“Your dad managed to secure a connection with an old friend, Mark Anderson and his friend happens to have a daughter…”
“Don’t tell me she’s gonna be my modelling partner,” I interrupted.
“No, let me finish.”
“He’ll be going on a business trip with Mark and you’ll have to live with his…”
“I’m not,” I cut in.
“Your dad suspects that Mark is up to something and he thinks you living with her will help him find out the truth.”
“Why? You know I’m not in good terms with my dad.”
“I don’t know the reason for that but your grandpa already agreed to it stating that Mark is the son of his old time friend.”
“Grandpa always makes the wrong choice”
“And you can’t object to his decisions.”
“What’s dad suspecting about this Mark guy?”
“He thinks Mark is a drug lord,” Jonathan replied and I burst into a long hilarious laughter.
“What’s wrong Davis?”
“How could dad be after a drug lord when he’s also one or is he trying to act like a saint?” I wanted to ask but instead I asked,
“Who’s Mark’s daughter?”
“She attends Starshine High, her name is Trisha Anderson.”
“What’s wrong Davis?”
“You mean Trisha Anderson as in Trisha Anderson?”
“Yes, what wrong with that?”
“A lot of things are wrong and I can’t live with her,” I spat out.
” ‘Cause I can’t breath when she’s around. I hate her, she’s my nightmare.”
“You’ll have to make her your dreams,” Grandpa Hilson said walking in, holding his walking stick on his right hand which gave him support and his left hand at his back.
“You have no say in this, Mark and his daughter will be here soon and you’ll have to accept her, else I’ll ground you,” Grandpa Hilson threatened.
“C’mon grandpa, I’m too old for that,” I whined.
“You’ll know about that when they arrive,” Grandpa Hilson stated with a note of finality then sat down.
Arrangements have been made for me to move in with Davis. A CSI agent Mark Anderson who happened to bear the same surname with us and who’s an old friend of McDonald will pretend to be my dad and introduce me to the Owens as his daughter.
At first I didn’t want to do this, but seeing the worried look on my dad’s face, I had to accept. Though he told me he was fine, I knew deep down that something was wrong he just wanted to keep me out of it.
“We’ll be leaving,” Mark said to dad then they shook hands.
“Take care of her, she’s all I’ve got,” Dad told Mark and I smiled tearfully.
“I’ll miss you dad,” I hugged my dad as tears rolled down my cheeks.
“You don’t have to cry. Big babies don’t cry,” Dad cooed and I was forced to smile.
“Let’s go,” Mark put in then I followed him into the car that was waiting for us outside. I’m having a bad feeling about this.
The car drove on the smooth gravel road as Mark highlighted my mission to me again.
“Just be smart and avoid getting caught because Davis is smart,” he advised then tapped my shoulder as he alighted when the car drove into a big black gate that was inscribed ‘DAVIS’ and came to halt before an elegant building.
We got down then walked into the building leaving my luggage behind. We walked into the big living room and there Davis sprawled on a sofa while an old man sat on another sofa with a young man.
Home alone with Davis, I sighed.