Chapter Five

Enough was enough.

"Cut the crap Caleb," I snapped, "And stop staring at my boobs. I know you remember who I am."

Golden eyes widened at me. Then filled with amusement. A wry smile swept over his face.

"Hello Avez."

The obsolete endearment made me wince.

"It's been a long time. How've you been?"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you done being childish now?"

"You were upset at the possibility that I might've not remembered who you were?"

I scoffed and flipped him off. "Of course not."

Lies.

"You weren't exactly my favorite person in the world Caleb, so don't flatter yourself."

"Why'd you agree to the interview then?"

"Quite frankly I have a job to keep. Why did you ?"

"Curiosity," he replied candidly and raked his eyes over my body.

An unsolicited blush was coming on.

I shut it down.

"Have you had your fill?"

A ghost of a smile dwindled over his lips. "I see you're still as plain and unyielding as ever."

He lifted his glass of water to his lips and tipped it ever so slightly, his eyes still locked with mine.

Crap. I was definitely going to be on Santa's naughty list this year.

"And I see you're still afraid of a little spill," I chided as he determinedly wiped at a few drops of water that had spilled onto the table.

He shot me a withering look.

Low blow, Ava.

He changed the subject.

"How's your father?"

I shrugged dispassionately. "He's alright I guess."

Alright and squandering his fortune on women.

José Castellaño was a hopeless romantic. After mother dearest left him for her highschool sweetheart several years ago, Dad sought out the interest and companionship of other women.

I understood that bit. He was trying to replace the love he'd lost.

What I didn't understand was why the females he associated himself with were conniving, two-timing, gold digging whores.

I'd made my subjective views on the matter clear, but dad was stubborn and soft-hearted. He always saw the 'good' in people, even if there wasn't any.

That trait both baffled and angered me. How could he still believe in people after what had happened ten years ago?

I quickly stowed away that thought.

"How's your mom?"

Caleb tensed slightly. "She's fine."

"Okay."

"So you're a journalist now I see..."

"Obviously."

"Published any books?"

I flushed. He still remembered that?

"No, not as yet."

"You should," he shrugged, distracted.
"You weren't that bad at writing."

I almost threw the glass of water at him. He was still a patronizing butthole.

"I see you've become quite taken with painting..." I glanced suggestively at the art piece poised beside him. I had honestly been awestruck by it.

Caleb had always been talented.

He gave me a funny look. "I've always painted."

"Oh, you did? Huh. I can't seem to recall."

He narrowed his eyes at me, seemingly seeing straight through my bullshit; but he didn't say anything.

I took a sip of my water.

A wicked glint flashed across his features.

"I'm quite surprised that you ordered water. I thought you would've opted for something...stronger."

I froze. He was trying really hard to push my buttons, just like he always did in the past. I wasn't going to allow him to rattle my cage.

How did he even know that?

He seemed to read my mind and chuckled furtively. "Your father is still a close friend of my father. Let's just say when business men get together over whisky, they tend to talk alot about their personal lives. Words get around."

I grimaced. Surely Dad wouldn't have been engaging others with personal information about me or our family life.

I gritted my teeth. "Like what?"

He shrugged.

"Stuff when you were seventeen or so."

Dad had some serious explaining to do.

Caleb gave me a strange look then. "You seemed very self-conflicted. Why was that?"

I balled my fists under the table, trying to suppress the anger that threatened to surface.

"That's none of your business. Don't pretend as if you know me."

This amused him. "There's not much to know Ava. You're literally an open book."

I laughed without mirth and clapped, drawing the attention of a few persons.

"Bravo Mr. OCD. You just won the asshole award and a few inches on your dick. Happy now? As I said before, you know nothing about me."

He grinned and leaned forward.

"Oh, I don't?"

I held my composure.

"I see you're still the same overbearing bully who teased me about my chest size. Some things don't change."

"So true," he crowed and focused his attention on my cleavage, "Many things do not change. Some things just remain flat, for instance."

My breath caught at the jab, but I surprised him by flashing a smile.

"And other things remain small."

My eyes settled directly on the bulge in the center of his pants.

He almost sputtered his water but managed to set the glass down with calm dignity.

"A conflicting castigation coming from the girl who ran away from home multiple times, robbed stores, went to the juvenile center twice, found pleasure in slicing her wrists, saw four different therapists and developed a drinking problem."

He tipped me right over the precipice- and it wasn't even from ecstasy.

"You're fucking shallow, you know that?" I snarled.

He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"Don't be so quick to judge, Mr.I'm-afraid-of-my-own-shit. You don't know anything of what I've been through."

He rolled eyes. Literally rolled his frickin' eyes.

"Nice speech. There's nothing that repulses me more than self pity."

My face burned with anger.

"Well you can take your repulsion and shove it up your fucking ass! I'm done here..."

"Oh come on Avez don't be like that."

"Fuck you."

He glared at me and opened his mouth to say something but his cell phone rang then.

"Mother," he answered and got up from the table.

I was fuming, and I didn't care how many of the snobs in the restaurant were staring at me or if I would lose my job. Caleb Dick Wyatt had been out of line, and dicks deserved to be put in their place. No pun intended.

I threw my notepad, tablet and pen into my carrier bag and got up to leave.

A few unintelligent words left my mouth as a red sharpie fell from one of the pockets of my bag.

My eyes suddenly caught the art piece sitting proudly where Caleb had been seated.

A devilish idea popped up.

Dont, Bryson sang on my right shoulder.

I gingerly picked up the sharpie and looked to see if the asshole was coming.

He wasn't.

I bit down on my lip nervously.

Could I do it?

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

The sharpie hovered the artpiece; and when I'd finally made up my mind, I drew a big fat penis complete with two asymmetrical balls onto the painting, then scribbled in bright red "Dicks and Roses" beneath it.

I placed the sharpie in my bag and exited the restaurant.

Well played Ava, well played.

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