Page 81 of Eyes Like Angel

“You wear that crucifix like a shield, Eva…but your eyes—your eyes beg me not to leave,” he added, purring.

Conflicted, I said, “I can’t stop you from looking at me, but the crucifix still there. It will always be.”

He licked his lower lip. “Your eyes say yes, but the crucifix around your neck keeps saying no.”

Adrian made no objections or protest, stroking my veiled head wrapped in thick silk. The“W”on my chest glittered, embroider and sewn in glittered gold, twinkled against his dark coat.

The air became lighter, and free, I wanted to drown myself into it, whatever this source of feeling fluttering and swarming inside me.

“Where the hell have you been, Adrian,” a voice boomed.

Adrian and I diverted our gaze and darted it at a young man standing in impatience before us.

The young man’s posture was straight as a ruler, in his brown and gray plaid suit, he gave us a weary expression, appearing like he belonged at the higher status background with prestigious reputation, like he never had joy in his daily life despite the power status. His sleek hair combed and neat, as his light-brown eyes scanned us, taking it all in, deducing the assumptions, hoping the man won’t start a commotion.

“Brother, I need to speak with you,” he said, firm.

The bond between us once stood shattered with its chill.

22

Adrian

I had no intentions to stay far from her. In fact, I intended to get answers. I had to.

This morning, distributing and transferring boxes of water bottles was bothersome. Mom insisted on further, no matter how long it takes to keep me occupied, eyes on the prize, as I recalled back to the previous major events.

Started around a few days ago, when I got back outside of the farm, Eva’s presence was undetected, and Miss Curtis glued on the side, arms crossed and a smirk curled to her thin lips, widely-exciting posture she carried on her backside.

Her vicious smirk replayed over my brain in countless times. I tried asking her what happened and to where Eva went, only to gain a short reply with,“Don’t know. It looks like she got bored of you from waiting. She’s such a nervous little girl, isn’t she? She always stayed where she belongs like a dumb beaten dog.”

I didn’t get her stupid joke, saying something about with her snacks. Every time Aaron and I chat, Emily chimed in by saying, “Yeah, and I’m eating hot Cheetos,” with a bored “I-don’t-give-a-fuck” expression, laced in sarcasm, and then screeched an ugly, terrifying, irritating laugh. Hearing her was like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

God, what a stupid comment!

And her ugly, loud laugh!

Instead of seeing Eva enjoying herself, instead of Eva staying at the party at the barn I had it set up for her. Amelia—or Emily—as Eva corrected me on, Eva’s disappearance plasteredin my numbing head throughout the celebrated event that previous night.

Emily struck a nerve. I hated the way she laughed, especially someone whoIwanted to see and looked forward to at the party. It was the last thing I need to see and hear.

Hours later, somewhere later after midnight, after the party, I chose not to contact her—dodging at her attempts to say her goodbyes and the messages bombarded me. I didn’t bother to face her and pretend like nothing transpired.

She tried to call me several times on my phone, despite unknowing how she got my number, so I turned the notifications off, busying on cleaning up the party at a Aaron’s house, having my mom as aloyalmessenger to relay from Mr. and Mrs. Curtis’s contact regardless of my whereabouts, urged for my full cooperation and a pleasant grin to bestow, as if I was God to their persistent prayers, granting to ‘save’ their souls—or lessen a tension headache.

Non-stop for several days, depending whether I was at the store, at someone’s house or at the Rivers residence, Mom kept bugging me, wondering when the broom will come to spank me or a flying Chanel heels aiming above the head.

Mom irked when I chose to disregard her wishes—wishes on collaboration—a possibility of Mr. Curtis and Mr. Rivers, a dynamic duo, working at the official business in a large town that might be successful in the near future than any stores—Mom proclaimed, I knew I stepped into an explosive mines, like I had to be careful around it and not let it crack.

I once overheard they might ran a resort business for the guests, the outsiders or guests to relax and enjoy the scenery and be lazy; eating at a food buffet—he mentioned it also. Meaning twice as plentiful expenses, negotiations and hard-cold cash stacking in—never out—and a possible chance of lesser attendance in the private residence.

But who knows what my dad was trying to do. He kept all of us in the dark.

This could be a chance to have bigger success,Mom told me in brutal persistence, keen and willing, urging me to seize the occasion faster than she anticipates.

When I gave a short, nonchalant feedback, Mom irked still, and instructed me to comply—or call Amelia—Emily. Subsequently, to ease her parents’ frenzied, over-the-edge behavior they’ve been pulling.

Kill two birds with one stone, as they said.