❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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twelve ◌ dead moms club
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After our brunch and quick stint in the sunshine, we were back at Niall's saturating ourselves in research. While Harry and I sat on the couch doing everything in our power to resolve the main issue regarding my father's bank account, Niall and Liam took over the kitchen counter. The two boys sat on stools with military grade laptops at their fingertips, diving deep in heavy probing on cheer coach Louis Tomlinson— and not the kind of probing that Liam would prefer... winky face.
"Does your father have a favorite travel spot?" Harry questioned. He bit his bottom lip in concentration, typing away on that laptop of his.
"The world," I sighed, falling back into the fluffy couch cushions. "My dad has traveled everywhere but Antartica and Narnia. He loves every place he's been to."
"Come on Tash, use that brain of yours," Harry pressed, prying his gaze from the computer to look at me with annoyance in his eyes.
"I'm trying!" I exasperated. "But I have no lead; nothing I can go off of."
"Look," Harry turned his body completely to look at me with seriousness dripping from his face. "If you haven't figured it out yet, your dad has been meticulously planning for an unfortunate event like this."
"Why would my dad ever think something terrible of this magnitude would happen? Did your parents plan for the moment you'd get kidnapped by a group of evil renegades?" I retorted.
"You just found out that the people in your life were placed into it on purpose," Harry proclaimed. "Don't tell me you think your dad put you into mixed martial arts class just for shits."
"I was bullied as a child," I declared, using that childhood fact as evidence to sway Harry's theory. "My dad just wanted me to be able to defend myself."
"By having two-hundred-sixty pounds of muscle and tattoos as your coach?" Harry laughed loudly. "Face it Tash, your dad was trying to train you to be an assassin."
Harry's allegation reminded me of the stairwell combat while ANTI men were in the process of kidnapping my sister. They seemed very surprised to discover that both Kat and I knew how to fight back; shocked that Julius Aquino trained his daughters to be so-called assassins. While I did find it odd that my dad insisted Hex on teaching me, as oppose to some basic children's karate class, what I didn't believe, was my dad attempting to cultivate killer daughters.
"You might not believe me now, but soon you will see the truth," Harry continued. He took a quick second to recollect himself, letting out a sigh of relief. "Now, is there any part of your life that your dad tried to control? Class schedules, diet plans, career paths?"
I sat back with my arms crossed, contemplating Harry's inquiry. My father was a typical Filipino dad— all he wanted for me was to exceed in school, which was why I attended Kennedy Prep. He let me choose my classes, and when it came to career paths he suggested business or nursing. But when I mentioned my dream of becoming an architect, he didn't argue. My dad guided my sister and I, sharing helpful advice without the need for typical Asian-parenting aggression.
