"Gosh is this your mother?", Mrs Blake seemed genuinely shocked.
I chuckled "Yes".
"She looks like your sister", Anastasia went on.
"I choose to take offense".
"I take that as a compliment", Mother smiled, and reached over to pull my cheek.
I groaned and whined.
"You are so adorable together, he looks just like you", Anastasia said.
Mother shunned her off with a wave of her hand, "I am sure you're kids are just as beautiful as my little Lindon here".
Did handsome not exist in her vocabulary?, or did I truly look more female than male today?.
"I don't have any".
"Why?, you'd make beautiful babies with Mr Blake".
I arched my eyebrow at her.
I had always thought they had a daughter, one who wore dresses more expensive than my house, had a million followers at the age of nine, I may have got it wrong.
"I am kind of barren", she twisted her silver bracelet.
The genes my mother and I typically and undoubtably shared caused both of eyes to snap dramatically open. With a small cough I turned towards Mr Blake because I could tell Anastasia was about to cry and I was closest to her. The last thing I wanted was for her to hug me and wet my shirt in tears, so here I was only a few centimeters in front of Mr Blake.
His expression was expressionless and his eyes travelled from mother and his wife and rested on me, "Golf?".
I shrugged even though I was internally grateful, "Why not?".
"Well follow me".
In silence I trailed behind him.
'How could they afford all this stuff?'.
After walkin for almost ages, we were in a 'golf room'.
The golf room was just across the north wing of his house and it was shocking that a whole wing the size of an avenue was just for golf.
"Grab a club, then we go join the others".
"Others?".
"Yes the others".
Instantly my heart skipped five beats and pumped faster than usual the next five. Obviously there were going to be rich people who would wonder why they had never seen me before, why I was there, or whether I was rich or in this case a rich kids son?. The one question I knew was inevitable was 'Who is your father?'. Hell knew I do not want to answer that. But I am
thinking of it. Damn. Maybe mom and I aren't so different after all.
I held the stick in my hands, I was terrific at golf at all sports infact only the ones that did not involve running.
"How's your golf?". Mr Blake asked.
"Horrible", I lied.
Why?, I had no idea yet.
They were right when they said that all it takes is one lie and boom there is no going back. An endless roundabout that never stops chucking you back and forth.
"Well you are in luck, my teaching skills are perfect and I assure you, you will be as good as me by the end of the month".
"That would be stellar".
We turned a corner passing the flags and numerous holes in the floor, once I set eyes on my surrondings, my first thought was:
Run, back to the women talk about your feelings too, anywhere but here.
But sadly I went against my thoughts and unevidently dragged myself with every step Mr Blake took.
The room was filled with old men, most of them who seemed to have one foot in their graves or cheeks that swept the floor with their length, but strangely they were valueable assets considering how wealthy they all looked. Turning my head left I noticed a group of boys obviously my age and I immediately pulled up a sullen facade because I had a history of people not liking me, especially my age group and I could smell the inevitability of being forced to gain acquaintance with them like a bee smelt honey.
The place on the other hand was indescribbable, personally I struggled to find any adjectives in my vocabulary that would do it any justice. I had never seen anything so prestige but marvellous and it was all for golfing.
The thought that it was a waste of space still lingered at the back of my head but mother always said that what wasn't mine, wasn't mine, but still.....
After introductions to all the old men, I was sent to the children.
I took my steps gingerly, so as to not accidently dip my toe into one of these holes and tumble face flat so everyone laughed, but that wasnt possible because I was wearing shoes but nonetheless the thought still convienced me to proceed with caution.
"Who are you?", one of the boys asked, he had an accent, I was not sure whether it was portugal, Dutch or Irish but I knew it was an accent, because it did not sound usual. The only accent I was single handedly capable of recognising was a British one, which certainly was not a category this short stout boy belonged to.
"Landford......Lindon Landford".
A number boy, who looked identical to him joined in, "I have never heard of that surname before".
I shrugged avioding any further questions of myself, "Twins?".
"Yes!.....No....Yes!.....actually we are twins but the five of us".
My eyes did a quick but thorough sweep over on all of them and I recognized that they were not a group of boys but actually a family, which was more relieving.
"So you're quintuplent's?".
One of the boys sat up, "Yes we are what ever that is".
"Where's the other one?", I asked. One was clearly missing, I guess it was sensish of him to say 'twins but the five of them' because there were two with brown hair and two with blonde but I couldn't see the fifth one. But then again he could have not meant that.
"Well she hates golf so she is probably in the kitchen".
It's a girl?.
"Or any where were they are books".
She sounded do-able, I'd rather be anywhere but here. Golf was okay but I would rather read with a girl I did not know but on the other hand the last time I was with a girl I was physically violated so fundamentally I would take my chance with golf.
I knew the group of boys would be so self centered and in turn I would be forced to allot my personal information to them. Especially about how I did not know my father.
I began to think of ways I could go about it.
'Hi I'm Lindon, I have never met my father because I haven't bothered asking'.
'Hey, I'm Lindon, my father left my mother and he is a fool and I wish nothing to do with that imbecile'.
'Hi, I'm Lindon, I don't know my father, don't ask me any more stupid questions, because I do not care about your life so I would be glad if you reciprocated my dear emotion for you'.
I weighed the options carefully, it all depended on my mood at the end of the day.
"Interesting", I replied to their earlier comment.
"Ah where are our manners?".
"I am Red, that's Blue, there's White and then Green is there".
Blue shook his head in laughter at my confused but probably horrified expression.
Had their parents really named them colours?.
"Honestly don't mind the colours, I'm Boxter Dabostry, this idiot", he pointed at Red, "Is Ron Dabostry, then there is William Dabostry and Gray Dabostry".
Caution rushed through my mind, but I left it be.
Gray smiled, "It's much more easier to recall us by using colours which initials start with the first letter of our names".
I nodded.
This would be a good time to say nice to meet you, just it wasn't nice it was torturous.
Should I?.
Should I?.
Argh my lips began to move when I heard my name being called.
My head spanned up because that was far from how you pronounced it.
Lindon was the simplest name to exist, how could you get it wrong!.
I walked over to the old man I remembered to be Mr Perkins.
He was half the size of Ricky, and nerds sat firmly on the bridge of his nose, I watched as his smile widened as I approached.
"Mr Perkins".
"What is your take on jewellery?", he asked.
They are just shiny expensive ornaments.
"I admire it", I lied.
I really had to get a grip of my tongue, I was beginning to expertise in lying.
"Well follow me".
Like I had been chanting anywhere but here.
Mr Perkins led me downstairs into a room. All sorts of gold and silver and rubies and emeralds were displayed.
He waited for me to enter so I rushed, and he closed the door.
"Wow", I managed to say.
It was all so sparkly and girlish, my mother would just adore this place.
A heavy arm was put on mine and Mr Perkins manuerved me till I was facing him.
I gave him an awkward smile.
He laughed, "Are you shy of the jewellery?".
"Not even the slightest sir".
"I love your quick mouth", Mr Perkins said as his hands slid from my shoulders down to my waist.
Panic overwhelmed me and I stared at him in horror but he was too concerntrated on rubbing my waist.
Gosh he was homosexual.
Heavens, He was going to rape me!!!.
"Um........Mr Perkins".
"Shhhh", he told me as his hands lifted to my chest like I had boobs.
In a spontaneous moment he pushed his huge self onto me and kissed me.
This time I did not remain silent.
I pulled away, rushed to the end of the room and shrieked like a girl.
"God damn you, the room is sound proof".
He walked closer and closer to me and I began to hyperventilate.
"So-so-sound", I began to stammer.
"Yes sound proof, no don't be too harsh, give a man a good time, I can tell you work out, If you do not know I could teach you", he wiggled his eyebrow. In a split second he was infront of me and had grabbed my hips, his hand lowered to the front of my tight jeans and I just shut my eyes unable to even breathe as I felt his lips approach me as his hand terrorised me.
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💜AIO💜
Dedicated to :Leeroy Mpofu