Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Skating Or Kissing~

Grandma was in the kitchen while her lawyer was well seated in the ball room flipping through some documents and pausing along the way to peruse through a few files. Grandma had invited him for the fifth time over her will but each time he came it would either be postponed or flopped by something.

“I am getting you coffee,” said grandma from the kitchen. You are fond of taking wine whenever you come around. But today you are going to take coffee,” said grandma toddling to the lawyer to present to him a cup of Starbucks and returning to her seat. “What if I go to bed tonight and don’t see the twilight at dawn. I have been risking it all along; throwing my late husband’s advice to the wind, letting each day pass without writing our will.” She stirred her coffee, feeling a hairy tingle at her feet. When she peered at her feet, it was Mr. Biscuit waggling its tail and rubbing its body against her feet. “Mister,” she called stroking it on the brow. “Where is your master, Brian? Go and fetch him for me,” grandma demand and Mr. Biscuit pranced away.

Mr. Biscuit returned from the errand and after ten minutes Brian was yet to show up.

“You have willed most of your assets to your daughter, except your farm empire,” retorted the lawyer.

Grandma lowered her glasses to her nose and shook her head in confirmation. She kept to her silence wildly disturbed in her countenance to decide on who she would will the farm empire – whosever that got the farm empire had it all because it birthed every of her assets. She snorted thoughtfully grunting about not having children that would succeed her assets. “But where is Brian?” She asked, peering at Mr. Biscuit, “All the while you have been coming he has always been absent. I want him here with us. If I don’t see him I am going to cancel Christmas on his ass,” she warned, scribbled down a written note and gave it to Mr. Biscuit the second time and it smacked the note between its lips and ran upstairs.

“We can still get the will signed without him,” the lawyer suggested.

“Hell no he needs to be here. He is the man of the house now. Do you you know why he needs to be here?” she queried, gulping her coffee, and blinking uneasily at the lawyer, “Because I don’t trust you.”

The lawyer’s face was etched with flames of anger as he glared at grandma irritably.

She added, “Oh yes, bogeyman, I don’t trust you neither do I trust myself, because bullshits still happen under the nose of the bull. How much is my farm empire worth?” she demanded and flipped through some documents and paused to read out the moment she found it. “Look at that; the last time Forbes featured me it was worth one billion dollars and you are ranting w e should sign the will in the absence of the only man in the house. That boy called Brian right now is like the law of gravity, everything got to obey him, including the breasts of a woman,” she said so, touching her flabby breasts and the lawyer threw away his gaze. “If you want us to sign it in his absence just know that we will also resign it in his presence.” She stared around, peeking into the staircase corner. “Where the hell is this boy?” she complained only to look up and behold Brian coming downstairs, eyes closed with black shades - she barely could notice him when he came down. She gazed upon him and her face dragged frown as she perceived his swollen cheeks. “Why are your eyes covered with sunshades, boy? Are you a source of inspiration to the blind?” she questioned and Brian sat beside her, tight-lipped as a lizard. “Take off that piece; you don’t take gas cooker to hell fire. How can you wear shades in the house? Do you want to hurt your eyes?” she questioned yet further, “I ask do you love…” and at once she kept shut and gaped at Brian’s eyes as he had taken off the sun shades . “What happened to you, dolphin-butter? Who did this to you, baby B?” she requested, standing to feel his face , turning it this way and that way to get a wider view of his nefarious black eyes and swollen cheeks that had the endowment of a boxer whose hands were tied for his opponent to shower with punches.

The lawyer grinned and suggested, “Maybe he had a fighting bout with someone, you know teens.”

Grandma shook her head in concurrence with the lawyer, “Cookies-kiss talk to me. Did you off your gloves?”

“Hell no granny, you know I don’t fight.” He dulled his looks yet further and inwardly cooked up lies to narrate so as to save himself the heat. His mind filtered through uncouth lies and finally he clinched on one. That was it!

“Boy, called grandma, “You are going to tell me who recreated you overnight , I mean take a look at your face and eyes, Mike Tyson in his career as a heavy weight wasn’t this decorated,” she beamed, stood up and kept at his face, her face spelling peril and worry, restless as chicken.

“When I took Mr. Biscuit shopping today I visited the golf to feed my eyes, only to have a golf player shoot his ball at me,” he lied and felt it was not skillfully rendered. He glared at the lawyer to see any iota of doubt on his face, and then to Mr. Biscuit, who buried its face in the sofa. He thanked his stars Mr. Biscuit couldn’t speak; and what about the face he buried in the sofa could it mean doubt? He thought.

“You don’t tell me that,” she paced up and down the room nettled and supporting her hurting waist with her hands, “I need to see the golf player that did this to you, I also need to feed my eyes. What the hell,” she cursed. “Does he want to blind you? This is an intentional act. For his ball to have dazed you powerfully in the eyes and cheeks maybe he orchestrated it?” She turned to the lawyer, “We are suing.”

“Drop it, granny, drop it,” Brian bade.

“What did you just say?” she retorted , snarling and finally sitting down and taking off her glasses and spreading slothful stare across Brian and the lawyer.

“I just said the circumstances surrounding the accident. It is not an intentional act. If you must sue, sue me and Mr. Biscuit for visiting the golf court to stand in the player’s direction.”

Grandma stood up, “This is the dumbest thing you have ever said, sugar boy,” she beamed and started shuffling away.

“What about the will?” the lawyer inquired.

She paused and stuttered, “What will – what?” postpone it till another time. Someone just rattled my cage and you are mentioning will. Do you want me to write my will while having a burning countenance so that in the end I can will it to your generations?” she continued trudging up the stairs, murmuring about some lawyers thinking though their anus.

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Brian turned up for the skating session with Meyer, his new friend. Meyer dragged a monstrous face at Brian when she saw his disfigured face. Brian had already been haunted by thought of dealing with Meyer being gloomy in their training session if she should set her eyes on him - and so it did. She was all over Brian, trying to scavenge from him the cause of his swollen horrid face. By some means he was going to give her a reply and he had been contemplating whether or not to tell her the truth. Why would he trust a girl he just met for few nights a go- why would he take her seriously – it was too early to cut the flowers, to fall for her, and keeping to himself would do the magic. She lied to her about his face and narrated the golf story to her also. All along she had placed her hands on Brian’s shoulders and inspected his face with her fingers - and that was when Brian noticed her rose perfume, and soft palms. He kept calm and remained trapped as she nursed his face. Brian’s thought turned on; she was as nice as Kate but Kate smelled better and spoke smarter and might be more romantic. She held on his hand and led him onto his skating board while she mounted hers and they rolled down the street; even when Brian tried to fight back her stares she kept to it, as though through him she would see their future. Their hands locked at once and Brian felt his blood stream flowing like the rivers of living water - in his imagination was his hands plucking off dead plants and replacing them with active lively ones yet the dead plants he plucked out grew afresh from stones and blossomed even better than the other lively ones in soil - he believed he was the dead plant or Meyer or Kate. He had been thinking all along and didn’t know when he bumped into a brick and dashed on the ground. Meyer hastened to him to raise him to his feet. Like wrestlers clenching hands together, they were at kiss length; Meyer had waited for this moment of her life when she would kiss a Brian…