Friends with the King of the Underworld | Book 1

Chapter Five

Friday morning classes came and went, but I couldn't concentrate on them.

Not that the classes were fun to begin with, anyway. Advanced accounting wasn't one of my favorite subjects, but it was a prerequisite for my last concentration class.

College felt like a whole bait and switch.

I spent most of the car ride on the phone with Anne, the florist, trying to get something delivered on short notice. She'd pull in favors from nearby shops, but guaranteed that the flowers would be at Vic's by six. It's a good thing that Damien switched out the coins for cash; otherwise, it would be impossible to get any of this done.

When I woke up the next morning, I found a stack of bills right where I'd place the bag of coins on the nightstand in my bedroom the night before. I blanched when I'd counted the bills–while I knew the gold Damien had was valuable, it was quite different to see hundred dollar bills just carelessly stacked.

But that was Damien. He'd never really taken much care for money. For him, it was easy to conjure everything up.

Though, why he was so busy he couldn't conjure all the flowers up himself when he got there was a surprise to me.

It was like he was purposefully sending me on wild goose chases around town.

I turned into my parents' driveway, surprised to see both their cars in the driveway home from work. How had I lost the track of time? I looked at my watch; it was still early. I parked my car behind my father's and jumped up the steps of the porch to the front door.

"Hello? Mom? Dad?" I called inside.

Suddenly, my parent's Pomeranian, Woof, came to greet me home.

I scratched him behind his excited ears and he wagged his little tail.

My parents' house was a modest home and full of pictures of us together throughout the years. Vacations in Florida on the beach and New York with the massive buildings were some of my favorite memories.

"In here!" I heard my mom's pleasant voice call.

While most students my age were living in dorms on campus or on their own in apartments nearby, I never found the need. Being able to live rent-free while I finished school was one thing I enjoyed most particularly. I wasn't ashamed of still living with them; in fact, I enjoyed it while I could knowing that in less than a year I'd be out on my own making my own way in the world.

I placed my backpack on the couch of the formal living room and navigated towards the kitchen where I heard the familiar sound of pots and pans being taken out–without much care, mind you–signaling that my mother was getting ready to cook a massive dinner.

We were definitely having guests over.

As I rounded the kitchen, I saw my mother doing exactly that. My father was sitting in the living room in his favorite chair watching the big screen in the corner of the room.

I placed my hands on my hips. "So, who's coming over?"

My mother spread her arms wide to pull me into a big hug. "My wonderful, beautiful daughter is here!" This meant one thing. Whoever it was, it was not going to be someone I wanted to see.

She planted a big kiss on my cheek. I awkwardly stood there as she did it. She knew I wasn't going to be happy. My mother was always a petite woman. She was smaller than average with crazy blond hair and wonderful, expressive green eyes. I'd always envied her eyes, wondering why when I was born I didn't receive that trait. My parents were always warm and comforting and didn't let me want for anything. Everything they could do for me, they did.