The Girl At His Door [Parts I & II]

Part II. Chapter-31

MERCURYS POV.

"There you are!"

I had been to my grandparents house in Italy once, and I still somehow found myself astonished at the size of it.

There were quite a few people with quite the number of things in their hands as they walked around.

Some had clothes, some had makeup brushes, some had cameras.

"Where have you two- it doesn't matter. Put these on" Penelope handed the both of us a set of white clothes. "Angelo, you know the rules. No giving your brother spontaneous hair cuts, no wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, no pushing anyone into the pool and please, please no-,"

"Oh calm down, I'll be good this year I promise."

"That's what you've said since you could talk."

"Yeah yeah, anyways, I happen to have a guideline this year too. You see this face?" He pointed at me. "No makeup."

"But-,"

"I've looked at this face all day everyday for months. And if I see anymore form of makeup on it-," he randomly looked around the room. "That guy will get his head chopped off."

The innocent man immediately paled.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Nope." He shrugged. "But now he'll make sure that it won't happen."

His mother looked as if she was betrayed by her own blood.

"Fine. It's not like she needs it. The most I would have put on her would have been some lipgloss."

I'm not going to lie, I'm definitely enjoying these compliments today.

    "There." Penelope sighed as she finished my hair.

  She had definitely taken advantage of what she was allowed to do in regards to what her son had told told her.

   And now, my hair was straightened and I was wearing a white summer dress.

   "Woah." I looked in the mirror.

I already miss the curls.

"Calm down, this is just so it's easier to manage for the day. Besides, you look great."

"Thank you. I just- don't look like Mercury?"

I've had my hair completely straightened maybe once before this.

    "This is also partially to see the look on your fathers face. It definitely makes you look older." She winked.

   Oh boy.

He likes doing my hair more than I do.

I'm sure this'll go over well.

"I have to hand it to you Pen, you're definitely evil."

    "Oh I know. Come on, I need to see how everyone else looks." She grabbed my hand.

  
     "No, no no! Mrs. Lesca said that absolutely no one is allowed to go anywhere until the pictures were taken!"

    "Oh calm down you ass kisser, I'm just trying to go to the cellar!" Gino yelled.

    "She said-,"

"Yeah yeah. Whatever." He slumped down.

"Here, try this." Angelo handed him a glass.

After taking just a small sip of what was in it, Gino immediately started spluttering.

"God, that tastes like nail polish remover. What is that?"

    "I don't know, I think it's vodka and gin with some tequila." Angelo shrugged. "I just kind of poured until it was full."

   "Your liver must be really moody."

"Not yet its- What the fuck?" He looked at me.

Knew it.

"What-why- Who did that to her hair?" He glared at my grandmother. "She looks like she's twenty!"

    "She does not!"

"She was given curly hair for a reason! Oh my god, do you know how sensitive curl patterns are?"

    "Angelo, it's her hair, not yours. And she looks really good. What's the problem?" Gino grabbed his brothers glass, trying to take a small sip of it before making another face and shaking his head.

Angelo gave a hard glare to his brother. "Don't even look at me until you have a daughter."

   "I happen to be on Angelos side." Gio allowed himself into the argument. "She's Italian. Italian hair isn't something to mess with."

   "And what about lawyers? Are they something to mess with?"

   "Never mind Angelo. I'm on your mothers side."

    Please let this be over soon.

"Angelo?"

"What?"

"Staring isn't going to un-straighten my hair."

   For the past hour, he had keeping an eye on me nonstop.

   "I cannot believe you let her do that. You hate getting your hair done."

   "I didn't really have a choice." I shrugged. "You're lucky I was able to talk her out of highlights. That would've gone over well."

    "New rule, no flat ironing."

   "It's my hair."

"Yeah, hair that I made, exactly."

Goodness.

"Although, I do like how it makes you look more like me."

    "Have you ever actually looked at me in the face?" I groaned.

   He's the only person that thinks I only look a very small amount like him.

   "Yes and most of the time all I see is her, and it drives me crazy. It's like I didn't put any work into this." He shook his head.

      "Not this aga-,"

"I'm just saying, you could've come out looking a little bit more like me. At least."

  
    "Sorry, I'll try harder next time." I rolled my eyes.

   
Damn. Even sarcasm is genetic.