Just an Ordinary Day

The sun shines on my face and it rips me out of my dream the next morning A dream so horrible I want to forget it as fast as possible A dream of the four-year-old Richard Faulkerson and his Crack whore mother. a bitch who fucked up his son. But at the same time she was just a woman who took the wrong turn on the road which is called life. One wrong turn on and everything falls apart. Her pregnancy was definitely not planned. But then again, neither was her falling in love with rich and good looking William Faulkerson. Their love story is so epic, so special it should have had a happy ending.

Maybe the happy ending will be William meeting his son. Richard meeting his father.

My eyes slowly open, looking into the bright sun which is putting Manhattan in an amazing light. I yawn, it's too early for me to wake up. I feel his arm on my shoulders and turn my head around. Surprised by the image I'm seeing, I can't help but feel my lips form a huge grin. He's still here. Still in this bed. Still sleeping. so unlike Richard Faulkerson. But yet here he is.

I want to touch him so badly. Brush through his sexy dark hair. Kiss his nose. But I can't. I won't. Not after what he told me last night. I won't provoke him. I won't do anything to hurt him.

I slowly get out of the bed, carefully so I don't wake him up. He grumbles a little and turn around, to continue sleeping. Gosh! he's so perfect and fucked up at the same time. The perfect mixture.

Dressed in my underwear, I put his white oxford shirt on before I leave his bedroom. With bare feet. I walk into the kitchen. On my way, I stop at the mirror and look at my reflection for a second. My hair is a mess, but at least the rest seems okay. I put my hair into a ballerina bun as i walk the glass corridor and into the kitchen. Although this man surely doesn't cook very often, his kitchen is a dream for every cook! It has everything- and that everything is newest and best on the market. I open the fridge and get out fresh blueberries. I wash them before I place them on a dish. Then I get out flour, sugar, baking powder, milk, an egg and butter. I mix the ingredients together before I pull olive oil into a pan. Then I pour the pancake mixture into the pan and let the pancakes get golden on each side. while the second pancake is baking, I'm turning my attention to making coffee.

I feel the water filling my mouth, as the smell of hot fresh coffee with pancakes make it's way into my nose. I get out the fourth pancake and place it on the dish. Then i pour the rest of my pancake mixture into the pan. Suddenly, I'm feeling hands around my waist. Strong, very muscular arms hug me from behind. Then I feel his head resting on my shoulder, "Mhmmmmm.....Smells delicious, Miss Mendoza." he says before he kisses my cheek.

"You ruined my surprise." I say a little disappointed as I turn around.

"You already surprised me by being able to make pancakes. I can only make omelettes, remember?" he says into my brown orbs. Then he loose my hair, by unwrapping my bun. "You should loose your hair more often."

I turn around and flip the pancakes over. "And lasagna, don't forget that."

"Of course, how could I forget my perfect lasagna..." he says and I chuckle.

"How was your sleep?"

"Good."

"No nightmares?"

"No mother, no nightmares" he says, giving me a look as he pours coffee into a cup.

"Don't give me that look, Faulkerson." he echoes me before he kisses me softly.

This time, I don't return his kiss. Instead, I let go and get the pancake out of the pan.

"Maple Syrup?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, "No. I don't like that sweet stuff...."

"Me neither." I say and smile a little.

"Coffee or orange juice?" he asks me as I place the two plates on the island.

"Juice." I say as I get seated.

He pours fresh juice into a glass and hand me the glass, before he gets seated as well.

"What's your favorite color?" I ask him as we start eating.

He thinks for a second, "Maybe Blue." I don't really have a favorite. You?"

"I like purple."

"Purple suits you."

"Favorite book?"

"Alice in Wonderland."

"Really?"

"I've read it when I was four. It was the only thing I brought along to the orphanages. It was me and Alice against the world."

He could read the age of four? FOUR?!Seriously?! I mean, that makes him like a little Einstein or something.

I nodd, "Well I don't have one."

"Do you have a favorite author."

"Franz Kafka. A German author."

He nodds. Of course he knows who he was. "He write fucked up story. He was fucked up as well. I can definitely see your predatory-pattern, Miss Mendoza."

I smile a little and look at the plate, "You're not fucked up. You've been through a lot of shit, Richard. That didn't make you fucked up."

"It did. You don't even know the whole story."

"Will I ever?"

"No!'

I nodded, "At least I know something about you....."

"That's more than the other women can say about me." he says to me.t

"What do the other women know?"

"Everything that's in the contract." he says casually.

"Nothing more?"

He shruggs, "Maybe more if they Google me. But I doubt that Google has a lot of information about me. I rarely give interviews. And if I do, the questions are always about my work, not my private life."

"But you've let me ask you personal questions." he nodds.

I blush sightly, hoping that I could be the exception which will change him. But I know that I won't be able to. Still, there is hope.....

"I invited Samuel and Patricia this evening." he interrupts my thoughts.

I look at him surprised, "Why's that?"

"I thought we could do a movie night. Something.....Normal."

I fake laugh, "Normal?" We are anything but normal."

He smiles at me. "True." he agrees with me.

"What are we going to do today?" I ask him.

"I thought we could do some shopping together." he said.

"Your closet is filled with a zillion suits. You don't need any more clothes." I remind him. "where should you put them anyway?"

"Not for me. For you."

"Oh.....WHAT?!"

"I mean--"

"No." I interrupt him, "You brought me enough clothes, Richard."

"You need a new dress."

"There are more than enough dresses I could choose from."

" I want to buy you a new one."

"They're all new. I've never worn a dress from the closet."

"Nicomaine....."

"Richard..."

"I have no idea what you like."

"I like your Oxford shirt." say grinning.

"But that's no outfit to go to a Gala."

"Gala?!" I ask him confused.

"Tomorrow evening. For Cancer. At the Met."

"So your mother will be there."

"Yes. with Mark."

"Will Samuel attend with Patricia?"

"Most probably. It's going to be a family thing. Including Valerie."

A family thing. "And you want me to come?" I ask him surprised.

"My family thinks you're my only girlfriend. Since Samuel is going to be there with Patricia, I should be there with you. Just so many family doesn't........You know."

I nodd, "Okay"

"Okay what?"

"I'll attend."

"And I thought you want to go shopping with me."

I grin at him, "You really don't have to spend money to make me happy, Richard."

He takes my left hand and laces his fingers into mine. "I know."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I can."

I sigh, "I'm not a fan of shopping, you know."

"Yes, But Patricia is. Maybe you could go shopping with her - if it's not me you want to go with."

"It's not because it's with you, Richard."

"You should get used to taking my money then. I have enough of that."

Eight billion is enough. "I.....Fine!" I say, giving up. I would never won a battle when it comes to him.

He smiles at me, "Right decision."

"Oh, like you would have stopped if I said no, You're stubborn, Mr. Faulkerson." I say and roll my eyes.

"Just like you, Miss Mendoza." he says smiling.

"We're not that alike....." I say.

"We're pretty much alike."

I raise my eyebrow.

"You're fucked up-- I'm fucked up. I hate paparazzi - I hate paparazzi. You love sex - I love sex. You're stubborn - I'm Stubborn. and that's just a brief of comparison. I could go on, you know."

I look at him, trying to read his eyes. I can't help but get lost in them again. But like always, he won't let me read his eyes. Then I rise from my chair and walk over to him. "How come you always know the right things to say?" I ask him, placing my forehead against his, my eyes staring into his.

He doesn't say anything. he stares back at me as he places his hand on my cheeks before he kiss me softly. I return his kiss immediately.

After minutes, he let go of my swollen lips, "Come on we have to go." he says before he takes my hand.

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