Rich man next door

Chapter 7

Trent POV

Sitting around the golf lounge with Bryce and Theodore and some boys we can call mates. "The time isn't moving." Some anonymous guy behind us yawns.

"Dude, I'm also eager," Bryce says louder and fakes a grin to impress his father, who is standing across the room with his partners.

"Stop stressing yourself." I roll my eyes.

"Easy for you to say since Mr. Walter isn't as pushy as my old man." He huff; he has no idea how annoying my dad can be.

"Your dad is here?" I asked Theo.

"No. but I'm sure he will be here soon. He won't survive missing a single game. Maybe he won't want to be here very early." Theo answers, taking a sip on the orange drink.

"Y'all, I am sorry to say, but your parents are really obnoxious. How can they feed us orange juice in this boring environment?" I groan, and everyone shoots me daggers. "Don't look at me that way. You all know I'm right."

"So you can go drink alcohol around those adults when you are not legally old enough?" A guy from my street that I didn't care to know his name asked me.

"What's the use? I will be twenty-one in less than sixty days." I brag.

"I'm twenty-one, and look at me." Theo waves his hands up and down himself. "drinking orange juice.." He complains, and we all burst into laughter.

"A lot are legally old enough here, but look at our fate around those old men." Some guy we call bill gate stated.

"We should go. I think it's time." Bryce announce.

Everyone stood up, and I remained seated.

"Come on, dude," Bryce calls out.

"I will be right behind you." I shoot them a smile as they all leave for the golf course.

I see nothing attractive in golf or polo. My father loves those s**t too. He owns a polo resort in NYC and LA; you should see my home backyard; it's a complete golf course itself, and he is in this dull golf club that I thought he'd be attending but instead, he is somewhere other than here. The lounge is scanty since most of the people left for the game. I sipped my orange juice peacefully—The bartender sure carried Mr. Thomas's mandate not to serve us alcoholic drinks. When I needed a refill, I wanted something different, but I was being watched under Bryce's dad's command, so I ordered a natural juice again.

My head down, I was looking at my phone screen. I go through my social media feeds; I have a quite large amount of fans thanks to my name and blood. The horn from the golf cart hit my head louder than all the ones in patrol. I look up to see smiling Cheyenne approaching my booth area.

God let me disappear.

I fake a smile and stand on my feet—she scurries on her thin heels and holds me into a tight hug with her strong perfume, which always leaves me with an abnormal headache. "I miss you." She says in my shirt.

"You saw me last week," I state.

"We are supposed to be seeing each other all the time." She finally let go and sat on the chair next to my sofa, crossing her legs.

"Well, we have to study." I remind her.

"You should have let me apply to your school from the beginning." She complains. She took my juice and sipped a drip before continuing to flirt with the tip of the cup.

"We need to concentrate." I smile at her; that's all she can get from the effort she's putting on the glass cup to tease me.

"Concentrate." She rolls her eyes. "maybe I should pay you a visit to Boston." she sounds so sure as she drops the cup and flips her blonde hair to one side, exposing her long slim neck.

"Don't worry. I am almost finished with the semester. Trust me; we will have as much time." I guaranty her.

"done with your degree, Mr. Walter." She corrects under her breath and then looks up to me. "but I will still be in NYU with annoying Theo and Sandra... thank God I have Skyla. I could have been dead by now." She whines, with a pout expression on her face as she quickly cleans her newly manicured nails with a napkin.

Before I could reply, she's moving to my sofa—so close to me that I can feel her breath, she rests her elbow on my thighs. "Baby, promise you will always be visiting? Please spoil me when you're done with college." She looks into my eyes.

God, who told her we are dating or something?

"Why exactly?" I manage to ask despite the uncomfortable situation.

"What do you mean why? Do you know that Bryce would fly to NYU in the middle of the week to spoil Skyla? He bought her a f*****g diamond bracelet." She huff and pat my chest; I don't know what to say, Bryce and Skyla are much in a better situation than Cheyenne, and I are, so it's a whole different two languages. For me, all the girls I've come across, I never felt anything for them. They've always wanted something from me, that is, my money. It's annoying that true love is hard to find. As soon as they figure out I am Trent Walter, they all will start throwing themselves at me, I used to think my looks enough would help me find true love, but I failed. They'd like me for my looks but more for my title. It's no surprise, though, because my uncle warned me about the spotlight. I can't hold the smile on my face when I remember uncle, Raymond.

"Trent?" She seems to have been talking.

Before I thought of what to say, the boys came in, and it seemed like their old Papi's were behind.

"Are we interrupting something?" Bryce grin with a narrow gaze.

"Hey, guys?" Cheyenne says to them and leans back into the sofa.

"Sorry I couldn't participate." I apologize.

"Well, trust me, you miss the fun." Bryce proudly answered, and I rolled my eyes. They must have had a good time because they all are grinning wider according to when they left earlier.

"Let me order something for us," Theo suggested.

"Minus me, I have to go back home." I lifted my palm and stood on my feet.

"I don't get you are going back home. Dude, we literally just came in." Bryce complains, and Theo looks up to me and then down to Cheyenne.

"I have to go, I told you about the incident last night, and my dad is holding the Lambo," I announce.

"What? What Happened last night? I wanted to ask about the bruise on your face." Cheyenne looks shocked.

Hissing, I fire back immediately. "But you didn't." I know I was harsh, even by the way I scrutinized her.

"A night iron man punched him." Theo tries to soften the tension.

At the information, her lips parted, but Bryce some before she could find her words.

"So no Lambo? What will you be driving? Stuck with the SUV?" Bryce ask.

"You can use your mom's Ferrari." Theo laugh.

"First, I don't drive Ferrari, and you guys know that. Second, Godwin got me some blue G-Wagon." I stepped out of the booth.

"That's sick, man," Theo says, hands over his mouth.

"I don't know, I still love the Lambo, but my dad thinks I am not yet ready for the low car or any low car, I suppose." I roll my eyes and shove my hands in my short pockets.

"Well, you should have stayed for some more time, it still early, or have you been drinking?" Bryce complains.

"You know I won't risk it. Besides, your employees here won't risk losing their job," I told them as I fraternal hugged Theo, who is still standing around the bar counter, and turned to handshake Bryce, who is sitting on an armchair.

"Fine, I should come with you."

I totally forgot Cheyenne was here until she opened her mouth. "I will have to look after you." She confidently stood up as her rose-red lips widened to a smile.

"No, I am okay, have fun." I smile at her.

"Okay, but I still need a ride." She state.

"Bryce can drop you or Theo." I point at the boys, who pretend not to be listening.

"Trent... who's my boyfriend among your list?" She exclaims.

"Fine, I am only dropping you," I told her.

"Yeah.. what else?" She barked and walked past me.

The ride was tedious and lengthy. I just want to get to her house as she keeps squeezing my thighs. I don't know what she wants, really, well I might know. But it's never happening, and even her parents made it clear. As the gate to her house opened, I dropped her after ten attempts of begging me to go in with her. She finally gave up.

I drive back home; it's only a few houses to my home, so I made it quick.

Jasmine POV

Dinner was better, I finally ate something normal than a roasted fish and salad, after hours of listening to mom and Jimmy argue about whether the tuna were all expired, I turn on the television, thank God the cables are connected, and the house is in order like we did not just move in twenty-four hours ago. I turned up some reality shows while mom and Jimmy fell asleep watching with me. I had less confidence to wake them up, so I covered the two lovely humans in my life with comfy blankets. I turn off the T.V and make sure the lock to the doors is applied. In the kitchen, I recheck the cooker switch before leaving to my room.

The sound of my alarm woke me up; it was five-thirty in the morning. This was the first day I slept in the room. I had a night of proper sleep, maybe because it's my bed. I off the alarm and on the lamp, my sight went straight to the picture beside my bed on the nightstand, it's a picture of my father, mother, jimmy and I in a park, the photo was taken by some hot dog man, nine years ago.

I shake my head to get rid of the thought, and I quickly get out of bed and change into black leggings, a white sports vest and went out for a morning run to help me clear my thoughts. I always do this every day in my former neighborhood.

I was running down the street when I noticed someone turning from the right corner across the road. It seems they're up to the same routine as me. The figure is actually approaching my direction. Is this some mafia person? A murderer in a cold morning? What brought me out this morning before dawn?

‘To get yourself killed or kidnapped.

Uff Jazzy Uff.’

I couldn't argue with my subconscious mind because I knew she was right.

‘You know this area hasn't welcomed you any better than a death attack, yet you bought yourself for sacrifice.’

My heart started racing as I added my speed.

"Hey, easy, I can't run that fast anymore. I've been running since five." Said a deep voice from the figure's direction. I didn't stop; I kept moving. "Come on, please. It's Tre... Griffin. The guy from the store."

What? The bad blonde? My eye goes wider when I turn. Should I even trust him? He has been the mafia since we came here.

"The guy with makeup?" He japes, stepping forward with a dimpled smile. He is wearing black shorts over tight black leggings, a black unzip sweatshirt over a blue shirt, and white converse shoes. He's wearing a black beanie below the sweatshirt hood.

He rested his hands on his knees right after he took off the hood and the beanie, his rough blonde hair fell to his forehead, and a sudden urge to run my fingers through and feel his most definitely soft hair surges in me. "What are you doing here?" I asked him. He rises and pushes the strands of his hair back, curling the side of his lips.

"I should be asking you that. It's too early." He smirks.

"Well, I do this for a living, you?" I ask again, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

"I guess me too." He answered, walking away.

What is wrong with him? He stopped me, and now he is walking away? "Aren't you coming?" He halted and turned when he realized I was still standing stuck, looking confused at him.