Curves Astray: Book 2 of the Curvy Curse Trilogy

Chapter 2

             I cradled my now bruised foot, crouching on the kitchen floor and gritting my teeth as Josefina cooed a flat apology. After a delicious American style breakfast made Papa, Josefina and I had been put on wash and dry duty. I'd hoped this would open up an opportunity to talk, but I'd been sorely disappointed. She would not break me. We were going to get past our shit and have Full House moment, I'd taken to chanting to myself as she'd splashed and flicked soggy bits of waterlogged meat at me for the past half hour, spouting 'sorry's all over. Not even seconds before, she'd gone to pass me a plate and had unceremoniously "accidentally" dropped a thick, golden china on my foot.

          "Absolutely no problem," I forced out, hobbling away without looking back. Not only did I want to be the bigger person in this war, but I also didn't want her to get the satisfaction.

"I'm gonna be a pacifist. I'm gonna pacify her so hard," I growled out to myself, aggressively making my way upstairs and into the guest room. I grabbed my purse, swiping my phone from the desk before slipping into sandals and making my way back to the first floor. Rogue, my grandparents, and I were going to the town center to look at the shops and bazaars. I could scarcely believe I was here. All the shoots I'd done had never even taken me outside of America. Our last vacation wasn't even as far as this! Egypt was a beautiful place, with white-blue skies and blistering heat. Luckily Josefina had taken on a face that looked like a dog coughing up lemon juice and declined, saying she needed to brush off the jet lag. Although my spiteful inner Ari was screeching profanities about her vendetta against us and our bloodline, I had to agree. 

               Rogue and I piled into my dad's Hyundai Verna, only to see him, mom, and my grandparents walking away. 

"Umm... Are we taking Grandma's car?" I asked in confusion, stepping out. Rogue had followed suit, leaning against the trunk of the car. 

           "Oh, you and Rogue can take that car, Princess," Dad called out, causing me to flush with embarassment pulling an unrecognizable set of keys from his pocket. He hits a button, and the smooth metal door of the garage slides open to reveal a sleek sports car so extravagant Kanye West would get pissed. It was an inky black, with chrome accents and a classic look to it. 

"1957 BMW 507! Top of the German line!," Papa hooted, doing a little dance in place. "I got one hell of a retirement bonus from the hospital," he said with a grin.

           "Top surgeon there for over 30 years and still refused to retire when you were allowed," Nana snorted, walking elegantly to the passenger side as Papa rushed to beat her there. "Are you very surprised?" she pointed out. Papa opens the door for her, and I love the little look they share, the one they've shared since I was small. Does love like that even still exist?

"Well, I'd most certainly like a ride in this beauty!" I marveled, gazing at it. Mom and Dad share a look before each hopping in as one. Rogue nodded along excitedly, eyeing the car as feverishly as I was.

          "Oh, we know dear. But it's only got 4 seats! Meet you there!" Rogue and I's eyes shot to each other, then Dad's car, just in time time look up and see my family peeling away.

"Aloha, SUCKERS!"

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            In the end, the bazaar was only a 5 minute drive away. We could've walked, but one look at the trembling heat waves emanating from the sand and pavement nipped that idea in the bud. Being harassed by Josefina had left me in a sour mood, but hearing the din and chatter of the lit up building we pulled up to brightened my mood slightly. The streets were of tan cobblestone, and and were the least extravagant thing around. The building looked like a castle, with tall structures popping up all over it. I was surprised; I hadn't known bazaars could take place in buildings. Towering, wide redwood doors were firmly shut, marking the entrance, but I could still hear the hustle of tourists and marketers.