Crash Landing [✓]

09

Chapter Nine | YOU PREFER MY LASAGNA?

"Your mom and this Mark dude built the house themselves?"

We stood outside my mother's house at last, encompassed by the contemporary vicinity.

The house was new and looked like it had been finished only a few weeks ago. It was as if it had rolled off a production line, but Mark had forgotten to apply the mandatory layer of colour to it. Even the windows were huge and perhaps inspired by something extraterrestrial and there was no doubt people wouldn't be able to see it from even a comfortable distance.

The place was liveable, modern mausoleum and I instantly found myself comparing it to our home in New Jersey, when mom, my dad and I lived together. It wasn't as big as this house, but it felt very much like home, because it was cosy and we had been comfortable too.

A moment passed before the big, glass doors to the house slid open and a thin, stick like figure with prominent cheekbones stepped out. Mom was beaming in all her five foot glory, I almost towered over her. A heavy silence settled over us all, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere, as unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching other glances that passed by.

A big-boned, bald headed man joined my mother's side who I assumed to be Mark, he was smiling nervously, as if scared how I in particular would react to meeting him the very first time.

"Nice home Mrs Cooper," Milo finally said with a whistle, breaking up the silence.

Mom's eyes flickered up at him, she was nervous and a little startled. "Thank you...?"

"Milo Delgard, ma'am. It's lovely to meet you." He grinned, charmingly. 

"Oh Adeline, he's British! And Milo sweetie, call me Josie." My mother bursted out like a child who'd been given a bag of heavily, glucose infested candies. "Is Milo one of your friends? Julian mentioned you brought your friends along on your holiday? And honey I cannot believe the nerve you have, lying to me on the phone about not being in a relationship —still a lip virgin. All the while you've had an Italian man at your side."

It was as if in that moment a glass full of water fell.

Before my brain could process what was going on, a series of events occurred in slow motion, starting with Milo reaching out for my fingers and tightening them in his steely grip and pulling me to his side. Zachari protectively stepped forward, prepared for the impact of the force — and something in his poise and mannerism told me he had anticipated this would happen and because of this he was toughening up for the worst.

I now felt small and timid, shaking in my jacket. Too small for my shoes and clothes, the gun hidden underneath the fabric, so much heavier than it already was, weighing me down.

My mom furrowed her brows and Mark comfortingly wrapped an arm around her waist and at the same time the figure of Julian Hardy appeared. Gorgeous and sun-kissed, dressed in a button down, khaki shirt and slim pants—he wore a Cheshire cats smile.