Red, the color of violence, rage, war, blood, the hue that defines passion, love, tenderness, lust astonished but sustains Brian McCoy’s personality splendidly, although I grant him more like a grey or black color guy, just like his disguises and cold behavior he carries all his life.

I swear I saw that fellow around the parties for three years now, not a single time he laughs or beams at other people, whenever my eyes wander to him, I glimpse a billionaire with no soul inside, all blanketed in his three-piece expensive suit that reminds every single character of the place who he is.

I don’t get this kind of insolent manner. Everyone knows who you are. You don’t need to relive them that with your attitude. My father has an identical perspective as Brian. He just can’t have sufficient of the national hysteria surrounding him. They both want communities to remember the power that they occupy around Chicago or the room they are standing in.

“Sleazy bastard.” That’s how my best friend Luke describes Brian with these simple two phrases or any other curse word you can guess off.

I learn that the malice is mutual between these two households; they are more intimate than professional. The war that broke a decade ago now develops into a family heritage for them. If you are a McCoy, you require detesting all the mortal beings who have Halls’s blood in their vein. What will happen once I become a McCoy in a month? Will I lose my best friend? It appears to like being a sandwich in the midst of my friend and my prospective spouse, God. It already frustrates me speculating about the conclusion of these upcoming days.

I don’t have any kind of emotion for Brian; don’t notice him closely enough to have any kind of understanding about him. Neither has any kind of tenderness for him, however; I undertake no loathe him; I have rather laid-back feelings towards him or the McCoy VS Halls drama.

“What in the heaven is this?” Hazel, my nineteen-year-old sister, enters my room with a huge ben and jerry ice cream tub in her hand and a spoon in her mouth. “Are you joining a beauty pageant?”

My younger sister is the most beautiful girl among our family, Hazel is the portrait of our papa’s mother Sophia McCoy, the nut-brown shoulder-length hair which is lazily sitting on the top of her hair in a messy bun, the amber round eyes, tall tan torso strictly 5 feet 6, on top of her sharp mouth and insurgent attitude is the cherry in ice cream.

“I have dinner to attend tonight,” I confess to her.

Hazel looks around my messy room with wide eyes. Every piece of attire that has a red tint on my closet covers my room like a drape. My white bedroom is now blood red.

Hazel walks into my den, sits on the edge of the bed. She is still recovering from the chaotic scenario of my room, knowing she is a clean freak. She can never sit in this room for more than a few seconds.

“The gala-night?” she takes a big bite of her ice cream. “I thought you were staying home tonight.”

My eyes roam all the dresses that are laying on my bed, sofa, even some in my closet, I never knew I own this much red stuff, if I didn’t ask for his favorite color I would have never known, half of my closet has a red splash.

“Yeah. Brian invited me.”

I pick up a spaghetti strap gown; I bought this one quite a time ago, never wear it on any occasion. Hazel forcibly me to buy this beautiful dark red dress with golden stars all over the fabric with a very low neckline. My cleavage will be on the showcase for the entire Chicago tonight with no doubt.

“What?” she stands up at lighting speed. “Brian McCoy. Why would he invite you to a gala night?” she frowns.

“We are getting married, that’s why, maybe.” I select a diamond stud earring to go with the dress while answering my little sister’s question.

“Marriage? With Brian McCoy. You lost your mind.” She laughs.

“Tell that to our dear father.”

“Is he forcing you? blackmailed you? I will talk to him.”

“And he will listen to you?”

Hazel groans in frustration and fall on the bed on her back, I understand her irritation very well, living with my father is not an easy task, he is tactless when it comes to other people’s feeling, all he cares about is his money and reputation. It would be great if sometimes he bothers to think about his children’s impulses rather than his own stereotype mindsets.

I get ready listening to Hazel’s whining about some of her friends, her only friends, I listen to this story one and thousand times before. She knows these so-called friends are taking advantage of her name, the power that she has over the city, why coping with them, throw away these negative energies a hundred miles away from your viability; I am telling your life will be easier.

The clock strikes at 7 and my prince charming/ devil in his usual black suit pulls his car into our driveway at that exact second. He is on time all the time, opposite of me. I am never on time anywhere. Even if I try to do things on the clock’s stick, I will be late. It’s like the entire universe wants me too late. I wonder how I get ready on time tonight.

I look at Brian, Maria is at the gate welcoming him into our house. He politely follows her lead. Aww, how cute, he can’t wait a single minute to away from his future bride. Who says romance is dead or chivalry man doesn’t exist, it looks like I find mine.

“What a joke.” I shake my head and pop my dreamy bubble with a needle with my imaginary hand.

I laugh at my rubbish daydream while checking my appearance on the vanity.

With the red dress, nude lips, diamond on-ears, and hand, I am ready to make my way towards the prince of mine who waiting patiently downstairs. I laugh once again at my hopeless romantic nature; I know what I am getting from this marriage.

A marriage of convenience is nothing but a business deal, the worst of all deals as it destroys two human beings in process, however, I disagree to be miserable. I vowed to myself to take care of my happiness. I will make this marriage, my husband will love me, I will have the perfect marriage that our society is ignorant of.

I will make a happy home with Brain McCoy, let’s see what obstacle I need to climb for this dream to achieve.

Comments (1)
goodnovel comment avatar
Jasmine Robinson
I thought that they were 4 years apart?

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