The Mob Boss's Retribution [18+]

38

"Why do you have a verified Instagram?" I asked Coralyn.

Yes, I had found myself coming over to her house once again. Because of the obvious reasons that I was bored out of my little mind. And that I felt bad about how I talked to her yesterday at lunch.

"That would be because I'm famous." She replied using a wooden spatula to stir something in a saucepan.

"No, you're not." I replied clicking at one of her pictures and scrolling down to the comments.

"Yes, I am." She huffs. "I'm famous. Goggle me. There's a really pretty picture of me in wikki."

I laughed but nevertheless kept scrolling through her very colorful Instagram.

"But what're you doing on my Instagram anyway?" She asks. "Don't you do some funny stuff. I mean it."

"Gee, I'm not doing some funny stuff." I retort. "Just looking at pictures."

"Oh-okay, then." She hums. "But do set up all those thingies you needa okay?"

"Yes, yes I will." I reply going back to scrolling. Coralyn got a really new pretty purple phone she said and handed me a brand new iPhone so that I could set it up because- oh well, she can't. And they're is nobody home to do it for her.

Sweet woman even wrote down her passwords in pretty pink ink for me. I sigh.

"What are you making anyway?" I ask getting up from the chair I was occupying and wondering over to her where she was working on the kitchen. On the pan there was some rouge-y mixture on which she dumped generous amounts of marshmallow.

"Rice crispies." Coralyn giggled. "I haven't had them in a while and now that boys are back- they love them!"

I nodded. The idea of grown men loving rice crispies makes me want to burst into giggles.

"Your pretty purple phone is set up." I announce. "I added your card too."

"Tank you, sweet corn." She hums.

"You're welcome." I smile.

A silence follows us. But it's nothing the sort of uncomfortable silence that looms over like a grey  cloud. It's good silence. I like it.

So, I thinker through the kitchen. Lusting over the new appliances she got recently.

"Blaire?" I hear her motherly tone.

"Mm?" I ask. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" She asks pouring the hot mixture of marshmallow and butter and what I saw her putting into the rouge thing over a large dish loaded with rice crisps.

"Sure." I reply absentmindedly walking back to the chair I was occupying and taking a seat. It was almost lunch and Coralyn had sneaked me a piece of cake from the desert she was going to serve for lunch. I nibbled on the delicacy.