♤DEALS♤

Chapter 12 - The worst decision of my life

Dedicated to ekwuem

People are like onions. You don't know how good they are until you peel all the layers off.

-THEO

Caleb Parks' POV

"Let's try this again. Five, six, seven, eight..." I count off.

The background dancers and I start the routine to one of my songs.

I have a radio interview in an hour. In a few weeks, I'll be off to Mexico. I decided to have some practice done.

"We did good, guys. I'll see you all tomorrow, alright?" I smile and wave goodbye as we finish the routine. They begin to pack up their stuff and leave.

I use the bathroom nearby and change into a green hoodie, denim jeans and a simple converse.

"Are you ready to go?"

Marci pushes her back off the wall. We leave the dance hall and head up to Marcel's office.

"You're awfully quiet," I point out as we round the corridor and enter the elevator.

She shrugs, "I just miss Taryn. I guess, no one to talk to."

"Did you know that your brother is so freaking hot! I can't wait till we meet. We fall in love, get married, have seven kids and get a pet rabbit?" I say in a very high-pitched voice.

"I will be a good aunt to all those kids," She bumps shoulders with me as she lets out a snicker.

"But seriously though, I need a new girlfriend. Gail is not an option."

"I thought you had a bunch of friends at school."

"Well yeah, but they can't obviously come home with me," The elevator doors open, and we walk out, "No offence, but if they find out that I live with you, I'll have more fake friends than all the fake body parts that the patients in botched have."

"Who says it would get to that extent?"

She answered my rhetorical question with a are you serious look?

We walk into Marcel's office to see Abigail sitting at his desk, her feet up and a stoic expression mars her face. Her loose black locks are in a bun, and I see her playing with a bubbler in one of her hands.

Surprising this is a pose I always thought that Marci would do one day, but it appears that our younger sister has beat her to it.

"Siblings, I have a proposition. Please have a seat." She directs at us.

"Are we on the right floor?" Marci says in a whisper.

I look around the room, and sure enough, the awards and albums which decorate the walls are in place. "Right room, wrong occupant."

Marci and I take unhurried steps and move towards the seats in front of the desk.

Once we settle onto the seats, Gail drops her legs from the desk and slams her hand on the desk; she stands to her full height and observes us with narrowed eyes.

I think she is trying to immediate us, but heaven knows that her plans are going south. The laughter that threatens to spill from me does not go unnoticed by our little dictator.

"I only have one demand." She begins.

"Is it to borrow some height? Because hon, you sure need it." Marci plays with her nails which spikes some irritation in Abigail.