Sweet Revenge [In progress] ©

Chapter 3

I have to tell Mr. Baxter that I am his daughter. As I lay there in my bed, I let out a deep breath and gazed up at my ceiling, knowing that Dylan would call me soon. Any minute now, that phone will... ring. And it does. My body groans as I roll over in my bed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand.

I take my time to consider it and then answer accordingly. "Hello, Rosana Baxter speaking," I say.

"Get up, and get here," he says and cuts the call before I can question him.

Why? Where? Just at that exact moment, a message pops up. 'Club 180'? At... I peer into the only clock I have in my room, "4:57 am" and I take a deep breath. Alright, I can do this.

With no car, and 50% sure of my abilities, I set off. I walk for hours until the sun peeks through, and I spot Dylan... Is he- Yep. Definitely drunk. His movements are erratic and wobbly, swaying and stumbling as he makes his way. When he spots me, waves at me.

Since when do idols drink? I get him and collapse on my bed, and doze off. When I wake up, he is snoring loudly. Now where is that schedule?

I search my room and see that I left it on my desk. My mom's face appears in my mind. Right, I need to win over my dad and kick that 'snake' out of his life. Splashing my face with cold water, I stare at myself in the mirror.

Hair first, then getting ready. Dylan's back is to me, trying to fish in the fridge for something to eat. I walk over to him and lightly touch his shoulder, and he screams while jumping.

"Oh, it's you," he said, like he's disappointed. "Is there no food here?" Speechless, I stare at him.

"Uh, I didn't get much time to get the ingredients," I replied, all the while scratching my neck. "Should I—?"

"I'll be back in a bit, don't go anywhere," he said after a strong minute of silence and bird chirping.

  "Ok!" I replied the moment he slammed the door. Wait... How will he find my apartment? I grab a set of keys, and shoes and run out the door. With quick precision I lock the door, running down the steps, which are steep.

  My body nearly collides into the floor, when a pair of arms grab my waist, holding me steady. There was no one to witness to our small drama-like meeting.

"What are you doing?" he asks, as soon as he lets go of my waist.

"You don't know... The route to my apartment and...," I begin, racking my brain for a better explanation.

His paranoia, I assume only grew with fame. Grabbing my hand, a millisecond apart, we walked all the way to a grocery store. Wearing his hat down, he checks aisles for the ingredients needed for... Something. I follow him like a lost puppy.

  Finally, after finding the items, we reached the cashier. The cashier almost freaked out when Dylan readjusted his hat. She froze in the middle of ringing the items.

Then told him to wait, and got out her phone. "Can I get a selfie?" she asked, timidly.

"... Sure," Dylan replies after an awkward minute or two, with us standing there. They took the selfie and convinced her not to tell anyone he was seen.

I paid for it and found him out by a dim lamp post.

"So... That was... A fan" I say. He doesn't say a word and walks forward.

"Hey! My apartment's the other way," I tell him, pointing backward with my head.

We silently trudged through the city, our feet aching from the hard pavement. The clubs are closed until midnight. And the lights are off.

I fill my fridge with some of the beverages I secretly put in the cart without his knowledge. And proceed to put the ingredients on the counter. Dylan beelined to the shower.

  Ding. A message pops up on my phone from the Baxter Agency. I check it while he's in there.

'Interview with X-Magazines has been scheduled for—'

Before I can read anymore though, Dylan is quickly coming out of the bathroom with only a towel covering his lower half. Oh my god.