Chasing Princess Charming (sample)

Chapter Four

I was about to retort with something nasty, but Brett called me from the stage.

"Ey, Ken! We're up!"

I turned back to Nicholas and gave him a scowl. "We are not yet through!" I said in the gravest tone I could manage.

Instead of being offended, threatened or intimidated, Nicholas gave me a contended smile. In a voice barely hiding his amusement, he said, "Oh, I'm actually counting on that!"

I was scowling as I took my seat in front of the drums.

"Bad mood, eh? Don't let him get through you. Don't let him linger in your thoughts too much," Brett said.

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"That is Nick Atkins. Every guy in this town wanted to be him. Every girl wanted to date him," he replied before going backstage.

I glanced over at their table again. Jen had returned to her seat and was giggling at something that Nicholas said.

As I twirled the sticks around my fingers and hit the snare, I thought, No. Not every girl in this town would want to date you. I promise you that!

***

"Speed is the essence of war." – Sun Tzu, The Art of War.

I dressed up early for the gig the next day. I thought about it the whole day. In all my years knowing Jen, this was the first time I met a challenging male. An alpha male, much to my disappointment! Not only did he have a strong built and doubtless a six-pack underneath his shirt, he also had an attractive face—the kind that makes girls starstruck and tongue-tied.

In a fairy tale, where Jen was the beautiful princess, Nicholas Atkins could just be the Prince Charming, who would kiss her sleeping heart awake from its deep slumber.

Very well then, in their fairy tale, I would be the damned Rumpelstiltskin!

I wore a pair of black pants, dark yellow shirt, black leather boots and dark brown leather jacket. I made sure every strand of my hair was in place before I put on my black fingerless leather gloves.

I wanted to pick up Jen earlier than our agreed time. I wanted to make sure that I get to Jen's before Nicholas could. Whatever he was doing, I would always make sure that I was one step ahead of him.

On my way out, I was unfortunate enough to see my father drinking wine with his friends. They stopped talking when I reached the bottom of the stairs and stared at me from head to toe, scrutinizing my outfit, my hair, and my boots. Then they turned away, dismissing me.

Oh! What I wouldn't do just to hear the interesting thoughts in their heads right now!

I have an idea. I wanted to know if my thoughts were right.

"Well, gents, look who we have here," my father said. "The devil's spawn."

I smiled acidly at him. The retort coming to my tongue effortlessly. "Exactly. Your spawn."

My father growled. "What do you call a woman who left her husband, unaware that she was , and let her lesbian lover raise her child? And when she died, she made sure that I would take care of the piece of shit she left behind."

"That's all I am to you? A piece of shit?"

He gave me a cold stare. Then he said, with narrowed eyes, "You come here, embarrass me, suck out my resources like a piece of parasite! I put a roof over your head, I feed you, and I even pay for your car! And what do you give me in return? Shame!"

My blood started boiling and I felt heat at the back of my eyes. I balled my hands and bit my lips in an attempt to control myself.

Nobody gets to me as fast as my father does.