The Boyfriend

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     "You know how the industry is right now, Laurraine. It's all social media this, Youtubes that. So this is my proposition."
     "Yes sir. I'd hate to be rude by asking, but what is the pay?"
     "Well, if you stick with her until the end, name your price and it'll be paid in cash."
     "Yes, sir. I'll stay with her until the very end, sir. Thank you so much."
     "Mommy, do you think I will ever find my true love?"
     "Of course you will sweetie. Did you know, it's said that one of your ribs is in another person waiting to restore it to you."
     "I'll bring you my rib, mommy. I promise."
     "You have too many problems, Laurraine. You're too clingy, you're indecisive, and you're fickle."
     "Fickle? Said the one who cheated—"
     "And why do you think I cheated, huh? Laurraine you just can't be managed, you know that? I can't take this anymore!"
     I screamed. The bedsheets surrounding me were drenched in a cold sweat and a dark liquid puddled on my pillow. In the darkness, I could barely see the blood on my fingers after dabbing my nostril. I quickly got up and turned on a light. I was lucky to have kept a box of tissues on my nightstand just in case.
     Ding Dong~
     I looked toward our bedroom door. The clock on the wall read: 3:00 AM. The knocking and bell ringing continued. I sighed and stood up.
     "Alright, alright!" I called. "What could anyone possibly want at this hour?"
     With a hum I unlocked the front door. Standing outside was a very shaken Peter. His green eyes darted to me and he pushed us both inside. I fell on my behind, the Brit landing on top of me. I went to yell, but a hand slapped on my gob kept me quiet.
     "Shut it!" His hissed. "Precious. She got a boyfriend. And the boyfriend, he's--just look!"
     He got off me and showed me his cellphone. Playing was the early morning news station I used to watch with Em before morning classes.
     "Breaking news: man arrested for murder broke out of prison?" I question aloud. "Hey, that's that guy's profile picture!"
     "SHHHHH!" Peter spat, jamming a finger so far against his lips I swore it would break.
     "That means that we have to save Precious."
     "No, we have to protect you."
     "Why's tha--"
     "Here we have the apartment complex people say they have seen the convict!" The reporter stated.
     "That's...my apartment complex..."
     "Lock every single door and window. Close the curtains. I don't think he knows what number you are yet, so that gives you an advantage. Stay here for a while. Lay low."
     "Lay low? I can't lay low. I have a job, an apartment, a mouth to feed. It is a very big mouth!"
     "Who has a big mouth?"
     "I do, and 'Mr. There's-A-Convict-After-You' just told me that I can't leave the apartment."
     "What convict? Is it true?" Em asked, and Peter threw her the phone.
     Emilia gasped, a hand running to her lips, as she dropped the phone. "That guy was the one who sent the hate comments you showed me."
     "Come on, guys, I don't think that it's that big of a deal. There is a prison fifteen miles down the road, so he could've just been walking to the nearest town."
     "No, he's smarter than that. He was arrested for hacking into the government's database and setting off an atomic bomb in Canada," Peter enlightened.
     "That was him?" Emilia asked, reclaiming the phone from the floor.
     Peter nodded frantically and helped me from the wooden surface I had landed on. I took a breath to assess the situation.
     "Peter, so what if he did that stuff and broke out? It doesn't make him a genius."
     "Yeah, it kind of does. Plus he has an infatuation with Precious and a burning hatred for you!"  Peter shouted, loosing his composure.
     Thump. Thump.
     We fell silent and Peter dove for the door and locked it. Just in time too, for the handle jiggled back and forth a couple times a moment after he stepped back. The window to our right let in a cool breeze, the see-through curtains whisking in the invisible waves. It all seemed serene until a note slid under the door. I know where you are, boy. Precious will be mine, and you will die. I felt faint. It didn't seem real.
     "Laurraine, we can get out through the window"
     "Emilia, we have to keep her here. If she goes out, she'll get targeted."
     "He wouldn't dare make a move in public around a hundred people."
     "He might. He set off an atomic bomb in Canada for God's sake."
     "Regardless, we need to keep her hidden."
     "I don't think--"
     "Oh my God this is just too much!" I screamed and unlocked my door. I swung it open. "You son of a bitch! Come out here and fight my like a--!!!"
     Bang! Bang!
     I stopped, the convict outside my door with a gun that had just fired. A sickening sneer coated the lower half of his face. I examined him closely. His dirty skin, his disheveled hair, and his amber eyes. I noted them all as he disappeared into thin air. I fell backwards, landing against Peter's hard chest. Emilia screamed. Peter landed onto the wood floor with me in his lap. Em fell to her knees next to me. She held my hand, sobbing intensely. I was away from this world. I couldn't breathe. I was scared.
     So very scared.
     I didn't want to die.
     "Laurraine! Laurraine Yao!!!"
     My eyes shot open and I gasped for air as if I'd been underwater for hours. I clutched my aching chest and gripped Em's wrist. She was at my bedside, tears in her eyes and cheeks red. I turned my head after catching my breath.
     "Did you watch the news?" I asked.
     "Yes, why? Are you alright? I don't think the news matters right now! I've been trying to wake you up for hours, then your face turned purple. I thought you were dead, you weren't breathing. I just called an ambulance and--"
     Knock knock.
     Emilia went for the door and I ran in front of her, picking up a bat I usually kept at my bedside as I went. Men in white with red crosses on their armbands ran in with a stretcher behind them. I dropped the bat--well--I threw the bat, but not purposely at anyone. Emilia pointed at me and they lifted me to the stretcher. They took me to the hospital, and I awoke with an oxygen mask over my face. As soon as I came to, I ripped it from my face and threw it on the floor. Emilia was outside the room talking with the doctor. I couldn't hear a word they said, but by the look of Emilia's relieved face, I could tell everything was okay. She entered the room after the doctor had departed.
     "Laurraine!" She engulfed me in a hug.
     "Hi, what happened? All I remember is wielding a bat."
     "You almost knocked out an ambulance guy."
     "Really? Badass." I remarked, sitting up.
     "Are you alright? What happened?"
     "I had the worst dream about some convict on the news that ended up being the guy that sent all those hate comments and for some reason dropped a bomb in Canada?"
     "That is weird, seeing as there hasn't been a bomb dropped there lately."
     "So what now? Can I go home?"
     "Yeah. Oh, you got a text from Precious."
     "Oh yeah? What'd it say?"
     "She wants you to come over as soon as you can. She has a surprise for you, I guess. At least that's what she said."
     The next three hours were spent dressing me like a woman, upon my request due to the horrid nightmare, with hair extensions and everything. I wore a dress and pretty heeled sandals. I looked completely different than usual and out of place in my Impala. Nonetheless, I wanted to make sure that if the guy was out there and true to his words, I wanted to go undetected.
     Upon entering through the gate, Frank was there waiting. He gave me a bright smile, which was quite odd for him.
     "Heya, Frank."
     "Hi, Laurraine. Guess what? I've been fired!"
     "Oh Frank, I'm so sorry."
     "Don't be. I just got a job offering somewhere else, this guy named Medford I think. He pays better and promised I didn't have to wear a pink uniform."
     "Frank, I'm so happy for you. So that's why you don't have the suit on."
     "Yep, I'm movin' up in the world, Laurraine."
     As I exited the car upon parking next to the fountain, I noticed there was no squeal or deadly bear hug. It was odd to say the least, not that I didn't enjoy it. I walked up the grand marble steps to the white mansion and banged the door knocker against the metal behind it. A butler opened the door, his pink tux accentuating his tear stricken face.
     "Larry, what's wrong?"
     "Mr. Lanping is waiting in the study. We're going to miss you, Laurraine." Was all he said.
     This made me uneasy. I'd never seen Lawrence so distraught before. He was always the stone cold statue of a man I'd known him to be since we met. He would just smile at me occasionally as I entered and left the house after shoots.
     Then I heard the giggles. It was the only time I had ever smiled upon seeing Precious. Her father sat next to her, a plump man of the same race as his daughter, naturally. He laughed heartily. I felt bad for the buttons on his white shirt as they threatened to burst open at any moment. It wasn't an odd sight to see him around the house, but this was his study. He only summoned people in for business meetings and the like.
     "Ah, Laurraine! We've been expecting you," Mr. Lanping said, standing to greet me. I walked forward toward him as he continued to talk. Then I noticed the man sitting in the chair in front of Precious. "I'd like you to meet--"
     "I know who he is, Mr. Lanping," I interjected.
     The wealthy man smiled and gestured to the handsome white male in the chair. Precious was giddy and barely able to sit still. He stood as he pushed back his gelled, raven hair, and extended his hand in greeting. He had a charming smile, but all of his comments and the dream from before turned me off. I took his smooth palm and shook it.
     "It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm afraid I only know your account name, so disregard any disrespect when I ask who the hell are you?" I asked, tightening my grip on him.
     "Laurraine!" Mr. Lanping exclaimed.
     "It's alright, sir," expressed the male I still had hold of. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are either, miss, but might I introduce myself? My name is Charles van Dubblerg. And you are?"
     "Laurraine Yao, the photographer you've been so hateful towards."
     "She posed in the pictures with me, Charlie."
     "Just the first, and last, favor I've committed in our five year relationship. By the way, Charlie, for the past day and a half I've noticed your comments. Kind of obsessed, are we not?" I added, picking up a glass of champaign Lawrence had brought out for Mr. Lanping.
     "I call it true love, Miss Yao. What is so wrong with that?"
     "Sir, what you call true love I assume is just digging for gold and has ultimately put me without a job."
     "How so?" Precious asked, completely unaware of what the contract actually said.
     "Precious, your father's been hiding something from you. Because his little girl was spending all his cash on things she didn't need, he hired me so that you -- and I quote -- 'Could find some guy stupid enough to date a spastic teen like yourself and spend his money instead of mine.'"
     "Laurraine, that's too much."
     "No, Mr. Lanping, I think it's just enough. You've been lying to her for five years saying it was to get her into a modeling agency. I only accepted the offer because I was homeless and jobless. I could barely afford my student loan interest payments." I looked to the tearful teen. "Precious, you are one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. You're more than just your daddy's money. You deserve someone that cherishes you for you."
     "Larry, why don't you show Miss Yao to the door. She's become a little violent due to her being let go."
     "I've waited for this moment for a very long time, Mr. Lanping. I'm not bitter at all. I'm just glad that Precious knows the truth about your selfish ass!"
     I handed the glass to Larry after downing its contents, and left the estate. I took a huge breath of fresh air and hopped into my car. Entering our apartment, I found that I was alone. The silence was crushing, but I found a new sense of confidence and freedom now that I didn't have that odd family to worry about. But I was also lacking clients as wealthy as Precious. Soon I would lose the apartment seeing as Emilia couldn't keep a job and---
     "This guy named Medford..." Frank's words echoed.
     I found myself staring at the green duffle bag that held the abundance of cash Emilia had found on the front step. Medford...Medford... I knew that name from somewhere, I just couldn't remember where. Examining the note more closely, I found that there was a business card starched to the back. My eyes widened. Famous model and actor Lukas Medford! I remembered!
I ran for the door, but I stopped. I looked gorgeous, and I am not going over to his house like that. Looking masculine was the best line of defense in my arsenal. I quickly rubbed off the makeup, pulled out the extensions, and stripped off the dress. I threw on some ripped skinny jeans and a tank top with my favorite band logo, and went on my way. I pressed my blue shoes to the gas pedal and sped off to the address.
     It was a long drive, I'd say about and hour and forty-five minutes, through the country. Yes, he lived out of the bustling city of Chicago and in the suburbs somewhere. As soon as I reached the neighborhood where the GPS had directed me, my jaw had dropped and I almost stopped the car. The entire block was lined with lavish houses with beautiful green grass and trees kissed by the breath of autumn. I couldn't help but smile at the sight. It seemed to take all of the stress out of my life that so bent itself upon my shoulders.
     I drove around some clean, kept corners until my GPS informed that I was at my destination. I slipped into the driveway of the humble estate, simpler from its neighbors, and turned the ignition off. I checked myself in the mirror, making sure I looked very handsome and manly. Of course, my voice was a problem, and my phone. If he asked...maybe I could say I was gay.
     I walked up to the door and rang the bell. A little chime rang within the house and opening the door, a butler stood in a fresh tux still steaming from the iron. I drew back a step, noticing that it was the same old man that had nodded to me on my way to work just a day or two prior. I gave him a slight smile, then he bowed his head as he gestured me in.
     As I walked in, I was gestured to the front room. It was quaint and decorated with a variety of sweet smelling flowers. On the far end of the room, inside the clean white wall, was a fireplace crackling with applewood. Upon the mantel above was a picture of what I assumed was the family Mr. Medford belonged to. It was a cute couple and their son, a light haired man with beautiful emerald eyes.
     "Taking kindly to my family, I see?"

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