Rich man next door

Chapter 6

Jasmine POV

I had arranged my wardrobe. My journals and novels have been placed accordingly on the bookshelf. It's been a while since I read something. I've always loved books, but I haven't opened a single page for a long time, and I have no interest in doing that any time soon. Books always tell happy memories and have happy endings.

It makes you hallucinate about impossible things and gives you false hope.

I'm not too fond of hope, expectation in believing things will work out. Hope in believing everything will be better.

It's all a lie.

After observing the little room, I followed the staircase searching for something to eat, or maybe mom had already made lunch. Is it even time for lunch yet? I asked myself, glancing over the wall clock. It's already twelve forty-seven.

I'm hungry. I've been starving since morning, I only ate half an apple, and I am no vegetarian.

"I'm so hungry... super hungry." I groan as I step inside the kitchen.

"Why didn't you eat something," Mom says.

I sit around the counter and argue. "I ate an apple."

Scoffing, mom paused. "Apple? Really? Since when do you do fruits?"

I wouldn't say I like fruits. They've always disgust me.

So when I took half an apple today, I was also surprised; maybe I'm starting to get over the past, my past?

I never wanted fruits since day one. My dad and I never wanted fruits and vegetables. Mom always complains about dad obsession with sugar and junk food.

I guess like father like daughter.

I will always watch how he will pretend to be taking yogurt while eating ice cream. He would silently lean and whisper to me, 'mom is such a healthy obsessor.'

"Maybe today." I giggle.

Shaking her head, she smiles and pats my shoulder. "We will be eating lunch by one."

"Where's Jimmy?" I asked her.

"He is on the phone in the backyard, arranging how to get his truck here."

"I thought Corey and Louis were coming over."

Releasing a light sigh, she responds. "Corey's mom's situation worsen—he had to stay." As she started arranging the table.

"Oh," I muttered disappointingly. "So Louis is coming?"

Corey and Louis are Jimmy's best friends. They were always nice to me, that I enjoyed their company.

"No, he is not. Pass the knife to the table." Mom gestures to the cutlery on the counter.

After everything is set on the table, mom calls Jimmy from the backyard.

I sat around the dining table and stared down at my thighs. I watch how my index finger gently grazes my thumb.

"Sorry I kept you waiting." Jimmy took his seat next to me.

Mom had been asking him to take the seat opposite her, but I know he's refusing because he doesn't want to replace where was meant for our father. He can't replace dad.

That chair will remain that way. So empty, so dry.

"It's okay, dear. You're on time." Mom assures him.

I was still in my position until Jimmy's fingers tapped my neck. He always makes that playful gesture anytime I'm lost in my thoughts—he will check my pulse to feel if I am alive.

Tilting my head to his side, I force a smile.

I don't know how I feel. I feel numb, I feel nothing, but I am pretending to be alive when I am as dead as a corpse.

Mom served us the roasted fish from the neighbor. I don't really like fish and salad included, so I pretend to be interested even though I am mentally planning to make coco pops.

I know it is funny, but coco pops is my favorite cereal. Anything with chocolate has been my favorite.

I was lost in my thoughts until mom and Jimmy's laughter brought me back to reality. I looked up at them, then back to my untouched food sitting on the table in front of me.

Looking at me, Jimmy begins. "I will fix the cable for you. You must have missed that show of yours."

Nodding, I smiled at him.

"Oh my goodness, and it happens we live in New York. Which means..." Mom excitedly drawled, waiting for me to finish the sentence, which I had no idea where she was heading.

"Which means?" I repeated her words, grinning lost at whatever she was implying.

Mom and Jimmy look at each other and then back to me.

"That means Riverdale is..." Jimmy started, and I cut him off, having processed what they were hinting.

I shot up to my feet and screamed like a little child. "Omg... I can go to Riverdale." I pace back and forth around our small dining area.

"See.. moving here isn't that bad." Mom gave me a warm smile.

"Still, I don't know what to think." I let out a sigh and sat around the counter.

"Well, you did seconds ago. You wanted to go to Riverdale and meet the ghost of Jason and black hood."

Jimmy always makes jokes about these Riverdale characters, and it annoys me. He would say Jason's corpse came out incredibly dolly, and the black hood was easy to guess since his first appearance.

Jimmy spoilt it for me because he assumed it was betty's dad, and yes, it was.

"I don't know." Frowning, I roll my eyes.

"Yes, you do. Like now that that chair becomes your favorite spot in the house." He takes a bite of his fish, and I roll my eyes again.

I smirked and threw sarcasm. "Ha-ha, funny."

Trent POV

"I can't believe you got into a fight." Mom's tone is full of concern.

She was sitting on the sofa, her head in her left hand.

"What exactly happened? Who hit you?" Dad sipped the wine from the cup in his hand and approached me.

Lifting my chin, he tilts my head side to side and examines my face quietly. He narrows his eyes and drops his hands to his side before he walks to his favorite armchair.

I am standing in the living room, being interrogated by my parents.

"Some random guy, I can't recognize:" I half lied, avoiding his first question.

Yes, he was random.

"Why didn't you call me?" He sounded worried, angered even.

"It's not a big deal, dad."

He shoots me a glare, his eyes simmering with irritation.

"It's not? Look at your face; you're wearing lipstick or whatever." Dad exclaimed. "Something could've happened to you. Did you realized that?" He looks so curious, just as he sounded.

I couldn't answer that, so I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Mom sighs a bit louder as she walks over to me. She wraps her hands around me, pulling me in a warm embrace.

"Please be careful, darling." She cupped my face in her hands and made me look down at her.

To be completely honest, I am more of a spoilt child.

I know I didn't mention drinking and driving. Still, my parents always try to ensure I am safe and protected even though I am an adult; they wouldn't let me feel like one.

These two humans can be seriously overprotective. It has always been the same when it comes to Ivanna and me.

Dad would always say, 'I look up to you. I see the young version of me in you, Trent.'

Trent Trent Trent! They want me to be perfect always.

"I'm ceasing the Lamborghini." Dad's words hit my thoughts, and my eyes widen.

He said what?

Pausing in shock, I exclaim. "What?"

Mom moves back to her old position, away from me.

This can't be happening.

"I know, but I have to, Trent." He somehow apologized.

"You've got to be kidding me, dad. Everyone knew my car; I just got it a month ago. So what am I supposed to drive?" I practically yelled, pacing through the big living room, trying to calm the rage rising in my veins.

"I didn't do anything, you know? It was some..." I almost vomit it out loud. I feel like suing that family from last night. "God, I can't believe I am paying for something I didn't do."

Actually, I was the one at fault.

Dad didn't react; he sat calmly on his armchair; I couldn't help rolling my eyes at him. His silence had always driven me crazy.

"Mom, please back me up here," I implored my mom, who right now was avoiding my pleading gaze.

Really?

"Son, I want you to know it's not a punishment or anything close to that. Seeing your face made me change my mind. I can't put my son's life at risk, and the mechanic told me the car was slightly damaged." Dad explained.

Stupid Jack and Bruce; such a waste of time.

I could visualize them in a miserably failed tv.

Huffing, I cut him off. "But dad.."

"No, son, I can't afford the risk of low cars." He tried to terminate the discussion.

"You got me the car, dad!" I reminded him, in case he had forgotten.

"I know, but it's so low. What if the accident was worse?" He questioned, worry evident in his voice.

"Thank God, it wasn't." Mom quickly responds.

"Look! Godwin is getting you a G-wagon. It will be blue or black or red, any color you want, but it would be safer, and when it's the right time for the Lamborghini, you'll have it back." He sighs, seeming exhausted and apologetic, and concluded.

I shoot him a painful gaze before exiting the room.

***

I lay on my comfy king-size bed with my shoes on.

Sometimes, I feel like moving the bed to my dorm room. This bed soaks in my problems, and I find myself falling asleep.

The sound of my phone woke me up. I covered my face with my hands and then pillowed, followed by a groan before facing the screen. I hate been distracted from my sleep. My shoes and socks were taken off; I guess it's mom or dad, mostly mom.

Dad only turns off the lamps and unplugs my headphones when he checks on me so I can easily tell the difference.

"No. Shit."

It's five already, and I have seven missed calls from the boys. I don't want to attend, but I know Bryce will be so mad if I bail.

I change into a brown short, white button-up shirt and white Nike shoes.

I race down the stairs and grab the SUV keys that I dropped earlier in the drawer at the foyer.

"Sir, your car is here," Godwin says, standing beside me at the porch, holding out the key of the new blue G-wagon parked before me.

Blue? My parents are so funny.

They think they can take away my fitted blue ride and replace it with a blue monster? But I have to admit it's a cool car, the wheels are so big, the color got me thinking of a red color G wagon, but I can't say that out loud, or I will find myself getting one in the morning or later when I get back.

That's how insane my family is.

We exchanged car keys while sliding my finger against the shiny surface. I couldn't help the devilish grin on my face as I opened the door.

The wheels were sick.

"Where's my dad?" I asked the man dressed in a black suit.

"They went out:" He respectfully answered.

"With my mother?" I raise a brow.

"Yes, sir."

"You really should quit calling me sir." I groaned at him and shut the door before he could respond.