“Home, sweet home.” Lara unlocked the main door of her house and entered.
She dropped the guitar on the living room sofa and noticed how still the house was without her grandmother’s presence.
In this life, her grandmother was very similar to her previous life’s grandmother.
Strong, independent, loyal and full of life.
Her presence always made her feel at home.
She looked at the mess left by the paramedics and aunties of the neighbourhood.
“Let’s get to work.” Lara stretched and started to rearrange the house to its usual state.
After cleaning up, she gave a proud smile and straight headed for her room.
She crashed into her bed and purred.
“Mmmh, my bed.
I missed you so much.”
Soon she fell asleep.
*****
As Lara was sleeping on her bed, still in her black, lacy tube top and faded high-rise jeans, and half-wiped makeup, she heard a knock on the main door.
Groggily, she woke up and sat on the bed.
“Who the fuck is this?”
Lara brushed away the hairs that fell on her hair and ruffled her hair.
The person on the other side knocked again.
This time, it was louder and more urgent.
“This better not be any of those fucking salesmen.” Lara said and got out of the bed, very annoyed.
She dragged herself to the front door and opened it barely enough to see who was on the other side.
She saw two men.
One was an old man, wearing a suit that looked straight out of a 1980s fashion poster.
He had a cane with a golden head on his left hand that suspiciously looked like it was made of Brazilian rosewood.
He exuded authority and power.
His presence was so loud that every aunty who was walking past her house to go to their respective jobs was looking at them.
Next to the old man stood a relatively younger-aged yet still old man.
He was wearing something that stereotypically looked like a butler’s uniform.
He too looked stern but submissive next to the man next to him.
“Who are these people?
Loansharks?
Did we forget to repay any kind of loan of my father?” Lara thought in high alert.
She quickly shut the door, took the baseball bat kept next to the door, and, holding it tightly, opened the door as little as possible.
“Who are you?” Lara asked suspiciously.
“Are you Miss Lara Collins?” The butler-looking man asked.
“Who are you?
How do you know my name?
What do you want?” Lara turned even more suspicious and alert.
“My name is Nolan, and this is my employer, Arnold.
We would like to talk to you personally.
Could we enter to discuss in detail?” Bulter Nolan replied gently, trying to come off as harmless as possible to the highly alerted woman in front of him.
“No.
Whatever conversation we are going to have is going to be with you on the other side of the door.” Lara raised the bat, ready to strike, even though there was no threat.
“Miss Collins, if you prefer this way of conversation, fine.
We can do this.
However, in areas like these, information spreads rapidly.”
“We both have been spotted by countless people.
If we spend another one minute outside like this, the whole neighbourhood will know that two very rich men stood in front of your house for a long time.”
You wouldn’t want that now, would you?” The older man spoke finally.
Lara was in a limbo.
She knew that the men in front of her were bad news.
However, that old man was right.
If they spent even another minute outside her house, the whole neighbourhood would gossip about her.
And dealing with gossip is a headache.
She couldn’t decide what to do anymore.
“Come in.
But, let me tell you, no funny business.
A single thing that I find unsafe or risky, I’ll bash your head with my baseball bat.
How does that sound?
Do we have a deal?” Lara growled.
The old man, Arnold Ravenwood, smirked with pride and said, “You have a deal.”
Lara opened the door and let the two men enter, while she stared at them the whole time.
She felt a deep hunger set into her hyperawake body.
She glanced at the wall clock.
It was nine-thirty in the morning.
Lara crossed her arms and said, “Say, what do you want?”
“Before we tell you what we want, I would suggest you freshen up, Miss Collins.
You look like you fought with a bunch of street thugs and woke up after sleeping to get your rest.” Butler Nolan raised his hand and suggested.
Lara looked down at her outfit and blushed in embarrassment.
She looked actually way worse.
She looked extremely suggestive.
As if she just got out of bed after spending the night with a man.
“FYI, I look like this because I had a rough night yesterday at the hospital, ok?” Lara said and stormed to her room to change into something decent.
She searched for something good to wear and finally found a plain white shirt and a plain maxi shirt that belonged to her mother.
It was conservative and decent.
She put them on and came back, the baseball bat still in her hand.
When she entered the living room again, she saw that Arnold was drinking tea in a porcelain cup that she didn’t know existed in her house.
Butler Nolan was in the kitchen, preparing a sandwich with all the materials present in the small fridge she had in the kitchen.
Lara was so surprised that she couldn’t help but ask, “What are you both doing in my house, in my kitchen, using my things as you wish?”
“I realised that we have been very inconsiderate with you.
After all, what happened to you and the woman you consider as your grandmother last night is life-altering and can unnerve even the strongest nerves.” Arnold said as he sipped on his tea.
“So, we decided to make some breakfast for you and discuss what we have come for.”
“What do you mean by ‘the woman you consider as your grandmother’?
She is my grandmother.
Speak with respect when you are drinking the tea she paid for, on the porceline she owns, in her house which she bought,” Lara yelled.
“Fair enough.
She raised you, and this is her property.
I apologise for my words.
However, I was right.
She isn’t your grandmother.
Not by blood, that is,” Arnold said.
“What do you mean?” Lara asked cautiously.
Something in her head told her that the man in front of her would not be lying on something like this.
“Also, what’s FYI?
Is it related to the FBI?” Arnold asked, genuinely confused.
Old people learning gen z slangs.