CHAPTER 1
1525 Words
Papa was a great man.
He has raised me all alone since I was five years old.
I am sixteen now.
Papa never complains and gives all he has to bring me up in his life.
Mama died because of colon cancer. She was a wonderful woman.
Papa would always say I remind him of her.
I knew he loved me more than anyone else in this world.
Papa and I lived in a small cottage far away from the town. We only had each other back then.
We both enjoy gardening and making grape juice out of the grape that we harvest.
Papa owns a small bakery in the village we live in right behind the place we stay.
Like you open the back door of my house, Voila! The bakery!
We make the most delicious tuna and not to forget, the perfect rolled ham sandwich along the way. I would say, the ham would go really nice with the tuna bread.
People from the city to the village, the tourist, and even the best would drop by just to taste some of our wheat and fish.
We are quite famous because of a great way of ensuring tasty recipes for the bread. Mama gave it to papa before she died.
From the poor to the richest in the city. Papa is a diamond in the rough.
Some ladies who own a bakery are embittered with our delicious bread. They do get very very jealous, especially when people come by to have some bread from us.
Hed always jumps through hopes for his people although he does go through a little avail.
"Ah, I wonder what Sam and his daughter put in his wheat to create the delicious tuna bread."
"There must be some secret ingredients in it"
"Or maybe some blood or human heart or fish waste ahahaha..."
Such as the gossip ladies talk to each other.
Yes. Gossip ladies. AHAHAHAH! I named them like that. Bigmouth and too much to talk about someone, but they don't see s**t hanging around their neck.
What a shame...
They always have something to say. It's all because our mighty oaks from the little acorns grow.
I loved the smell of papa’s kitchen when he bakes his vanilla bread.
Especially when he adds his homemade honey and strawberry jam.
“Mmmmm… Smells good, papa!”
“It was your mother’s recipe. She said no sugar but more honey.”
We both laughed happily. It is the happiest moment in my life.
Everything was fine until…
“The count!”
“Oh, no, the count is here!”
The village was chaotic. The young ladies, who claim themselves, beautiful ran towards the coming of the count excitedly.
There were screaming and announcing the coming of the count to our village as if the world is going to end.
And, here I am. Silly and noddy. Rushed out to the doorstep of papa’s bakery and snatched a glimpse through the door to see him.
It was count Latham.
Is he the great human being the whole city was talking about?
His car, the big old Bentley with shiny gold plated rims and tinted mirror. Ahhhh... My eyes burn!
The foremost and incomparable, Count Latham. The greatest man in the city.
They said he was old and grumpy, cruel and vicious.
Some said he was the sexiest man, a young and alluring one.
But none of that bothers me. What does is, is he ever going to come to our bakery?
Oh please come and get some of our bread!
“Papa, I think the count is coming to our bakery!”
"Is he?!"
"Ahhhh yes, papa..." I riveted the eyes on papa.
Papa rushed out to see if I am right and yes! It was the count’s assistant who moved closer to our bakery.
“How would you like me to help you, sir?”
Papa's hands were twitching like he was holding a bowl full of hot soup. He was definitely surprised.
His hands full of the wheat flour and the tuna smell from the kitchen, he made me laugh. Oh, silly, papa...
“The count would love to have some of your famous tuna and a ham sandwich to go along, please.”
Said Mr. Patrick, smiled.
“Of course, it’s my pleasure…”
Papa ran to the kitchen and snarred his paper bags.
“It is the count!! Get him the best one of ours!” He cried with joy.
He breaks it to his pastry chefs in the kitchen grabbing his fresh-baked sandwiches and hams into the paper bags happily.
Papa was so happy.
I have never seen papa as happy as that.
It was merely joyous all the time with him, but that moment of enthusiasm was different.
I giggled at papa and he growls at me. How funny. Oh, Papa. What would I do without you?
“Layla, go and give this to the count. He is in the car.”
My roar of laughter suddenly break back to silence and I gave papa a gaze.
“But papa, why should I? His assistant was here a few minutes ago. Wait for him, papa!”
“No, just go, sweetheart. Hand it over to him. Rich people don't like to wait...”
What does that even mean?
I was agitated with papa's words. His words seem to be innocent and it definitely means nothing, but are we that poor that we are not reputable enough to be at the same place with them? Oh, and why won't they wait for us?
Ahhhh! I was furious, outraged!
I gave papa that bad look and nodded, angrily.
I walked to the car.
I believed that only the richest and the noblest people can get any closer to him, but I was sent to give our wheat bread.
It was more than butterflies but caterpillars in my belly. It was molding inside my stomach and I could clearly hear my heart pumping right through my ears.
My fear has mixed up with fretfulness and anger at the same.
I was standing beside the car door where the side of which the count was sitting. I knew the count could see me, but I was not going to be friendly at all.
I was giving a very displeased stare at the window.
Like, what are you going to do about it, huh?
The window rolled down.
Right then, I sneaked in both hands angrily inside the narrow passage of the window and waited for someone to take it from me. Someone, I meant the count.
I could not see the count's face as the window was only good enough to put my hands in.
Suddenly, my hand was grappled and the bread was taken down.
It was the count, but I could barely see him because the car window was tinted.
It was cold and muscular skin, but the soft touch on both hands made me feel so uneasy.
I felt as if I was being groused by a man. YUCKS!
I quickly pulled my hands away and walked away angrily.
"Hey, gorgeous."
Someone from the car cried out with a sweet drawl voice at me.
"Come here."
I could only hear him calling, but I can't see him.
I approached the car near and waited for the window to roll down fully.
Unfortunately, it didn't.
Regardless of being touched by a man for the first time in my life after papa, it was really awkward.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen..."
"Too young..."
With his low drawl and sexy voice, I do feel tempted and tingly on my cheeks and neck, but I don't feel good.
I start to feel really uncomfortable.
Why would he ask my age? Who is he?
"Thank you, beautiful. The smell of tuna reminds me of raw meat and skin. I will come again...for you."
"AHHH? WHAT?"
What does that even mean? Raw meat... skin... tuna?
“The sweet voice,”
I said. It was the count. I wondered why he would say that.
He thanked me and... And... He would come again for me next time?!
Oh no! Is it because I was rude to him? Such, I was too naive back then.
I stepped back and waited for the car to move.
He, the count…
He has seen me clearly, but I can’t and never did. I have never known what he looks like.
"Papa! Papa!"
"Yes?! What happens now?"
Papa growled at me angrily. I looked at him and smiled.
"Papa, the count thanked me and said he would come again."
"Oh! That's beautiful. All thanks to you, my love!"
Papa carried me on his shoulders and celebrated the happiness with his chefs and the neighbor shops.
Papa was happy but a poor man...
I am going to break his heart.
I did something wrong, and the count is coming back to me.
I didn't tell papa about the last word he said...
He is coming for me... tuna... raw meat.
- Writer
