Can I Win Mr.Anti-Woman? #JustWriteIt

Chapter 12: Mr. and Mrs. Chance

Chapter 12

Mr. and Mrs. Chance

 "No late night parties, no going home later than nine pm, no cigarettes, no drugs, no--"

 It's not like I take drugs, cigarettes or do what to waste my life away by being an addict; but blah, blah, blah, no-shashimi!

 Faye's dad is capable of holding a parent-jail like institute with or without bars. This is what I felt in the past hour, tamed.

 I've been sitting here in Faye's cute little modern home, listening to conditions I may or may not fail to follow. My ears are suffering, even maybe it's on its way to bleed. Things I do for the love of my best friend.

 "No bad influence Dianne, no disrespect, no spliffs, no--"

 I doubt he'll run out of rules. He just has too many restrictions, it's like a script. He's been constantly repeating this over and over again whenever I have to clarify right after his daughter asks his permission. It's the same routine: me and Faye gets invited, we plan, she asks her parents, her dad calls me up then preaches his word of safety and discipline. Though, I've got to put credit, it put Faye on the right track. This is probably why she didn't totally wreak nor change after "The Melisa incident."

 "And, no boys." He finished off, slamming some sort of paper on top of the table with a pen.

 I stared at the piece of paper, sighing. I know it's the same tahoma print, font 12, margin one waver. I've signed this countless times if I wanted Mr. Chance to free his child from his tight grip for a day.

 "Please read a loud and if you agree, you may sign and have her only until 9pm."

 Rolling my eyes, I held my head high to look at the ceiling instead of the waiver, "I, Dianne Elia Walker, is held responsible for any damage against my cutie-pie. I agree to do the following in case of an emergency:

 Help, call 911, call parents, feed her, take her home on or before nine pm, no alcohol, no drugs, no parties. I agree to the terms and regulations."Hell, I even freaking memorised it. I looked at Mr. Chance, his slightly chubby cheeks were pink, forehead folded in layers as he creased and eyes were slightly narrowing me.

 "Respect Dianne, especially to a fifty year old man." He warned, pointing to himself to emphasize his point.

 I put on an innocent smile, fleetingly fluttering my lashes as I silently mocked. Leaning forwards, I grabbed the waver and the pen. Just as I was about to sign my name, a bunch of papers were thrown passing right over my head, then slamming right down the table.

 "Before you sign, here are the set of consequences if my Faye-winnie gets hurt."

 I looked up, butt still glued on the plush leather couch, body still forming an arch over their wooden table.

 "You've got to be kidding me." I said, exasperated. I straightened my back, picking up the thick set of papers bounded together by a single metal fastener.

 I scanned the pages, feeling my blood boil, nerves bulging out my forehead. I'm about to burst! Guy gives me a repetitive speech, temporarily stops me from signing the waver and unexpectedly gives me a death contract, to scare me.

 I will personally decapitate you.

 I will send you to the grave. 

 Go to hell.

 Bloody hell! You can't do that! This isn't even legal.