What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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The Weeknd - Heartless.
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THERE ARE LOTS OF WOMENin the world. None of them is worth being foolish over. None of them is irreplaceable.
My papa always said women made men lose control. He said not to let any one of them tie you down because they were all replaceable; disposable. All the same.
He told me this the night before I went off to college. He'd said it in a bid to get me to break up with the girl I was dating at the time and get me to focus on more important things than girls in school and it worked.
But maybe if I'd paid more attention, I'd have caught a whiff that he was being a fucking hypocrite. He became foolish over one woman. I never got to find out if she truly was irreplaceable to him though, because that same woman led to his untimely demise. She wasn't my mama.
I get down from my car after parking it in the garage, walking towards my house with uneasiness rolling off me in fumes.
Jeremiah approaches me in his usual dress shirt, waistcoat and suit pants attire. The only things that make my eyes suffer in his get-up are the sneakers he accessorized with.
"Where's Miss. Alaina?" He asks, looking around me expectantly like he's my pet dog whom I promised a bone on my return. Alaina's the bone.
With an unwilling tick in my jaw, I ignore his question. "Whenever the fuck she gets back, tell her to come to my room and take that laundry."
In response, I hear Jeremiah mutter something from behind me. He's incoherent, so I don't understand him, but from his aggravated tone, I can tell whatever he has to say is important. I'm just too fucking riled up to sit and chat with him.
My phone dings, I pull open my suit jacket to yank it out of its pocket. It's a text message.
Ingrid: Did my father talk to you yesterday?
Yes. Your father did piss me off yesterday, right before Alaina distracted me with her scent and the silhouette of her head.
If I wasn't already pissed right now, I'm sure I'd feel something akin to the frustration I felt when I was speaking with her said father yesterday.
I walk through the large foyer with an intent to beeline for my room, but a flash of red in my peripheral presses on my brakes rather abruptly.
Another ping. I look at my phone.
Ingrid: Heard Jeremy open the gate for you. I'm in your living room, baby. 😏👻
