Playing The Bad Boy's Game (Completed July 2012) FIRST BOOK SO IT IS CRAP W A R N I N G

Chapter 7: the truth is bloody...sometimes

Song: Oath by Cher Llyod ft. Becky G

 

Chapter 7: The truth is bloody... sometimes

            “How the hell do I actually have this much stuff?” I huffed as I finished taping the last box.  I stared at my hand as a small scar still showed by my thumb.

            I just moved to Canada about two months ago and I’m already moving to a different house.  Did I forget to mention with complete strangers?!

            Darby ran up the stairs, her curlers in her hair bobbing up and down.  “Rivyn, darling!  The moving men are here to help us bring the boxes down!  And they’re handsome too so why don’t you offer them a drink?”

            I sighed in relief, stretching out my back.  “Alrighty.”  I headed towards the stairs and stopped.  “Nice curlers by the way,” I joked, rustling her hair.

            Her eyes widened, remembering she still had them on.  She bolted to the empty bathroom and tore them off, tossing them into a random box.

            I chuckled and hopped down the stairs.  “And you’re friend is here to help you too!” Darby called out as I reached the bottom. 

            “Okaaaay!”

            I arranged a box of chips and balanced out several water bottles as I headed out the door.

            “You need any help with that?” asked Klaire as she pulled up my driveway with a Ferrari.  She might not have the personality of a blonde she does have the serious bling.

            I grinned and tossed her all the water bottles.  “Hand these out to the workers for me?”  She smoothly caught them, while juggling them in her hand. 

            “Show off!” I playfully shouted. 

            Klaire chuckled and handed them to the workers who by the way were actually quite handsome as Darby said.  Most were about in their early twenties with big muscles. 

            I offered them chips and they gladly took them, all looking hungry as vultures.  I mentioned where the boxes were and they immediately started hustling up the stairs. 

            “So, how do you feel about moving to the Daniels?” asked Klaire, her hands in her pockets. 

            Breaking the news to Klaire last night was a very depressing two hours.  It felt good though that somebody knew about my aunt's bank problem and my emotional problems with Brian. I didn't feel as alone, you know? 

            “What do you think, Sherlock?” I asked rolling my eyes.  “That’s like asking if I’d like cookies on the way to hell.”

            She laughed.  “That’s a pretty good example though.”  I sighed and couldn’t help but grin.

            The workers paraded in and out of the house, lifting the boxes back and forth into the moving truck.  Klaire and I chatted on the porch steps, thinking about all the hilarious pranks that we could pull on the Daniel boys when she would sleepover.

            Just as the last few packages were heaved on, a high pitch squeal rang from upstairs.

            Klaire and I bolted into the house, frightened to what was going on.