“You’re not doing women any favours by shaming them,” said Aldona.
“Perhaps I’m not for all women,” muttered Lena with a glare.
“If Just is a whore and Lena is a prude, then what am I, please?” asked Celina, secretly enjoying the argument between the two elder sisters.
“You’re a sweetheart,” answered Aldona affectionately with a warm smile, and no one said anything against that, for the little one was the baby doll of the squad.
Since readers of this generation are more often than not incapable of extrapolating from the most briefest descriptions the accurate appearance of individuals as they actually are within the specific socioeconomic context therein described, the author here is absolutely compelled to give a more detailed account of the four teenage girls Rod has unfortunately found himself with, who, in characteristically spoiled fashion, spent the majority of the early hours of the morning bickering between themselves on which of them got with the hottest boy in school; for they were the most popular girls in the school, by their accounts anyway, but also by the accounts of many of the teachers if one were to interview them one on one. These girls, barely related to the business tycoon except through blood, were of the celebrity status – each of them commanding upwards of half a billion followers on Tiktok alone. And surprisingly, or unsurprisingly to anyone outside of the family, the youngest daughter, Celina, was the one with the most followers out of any of them; perhaps that is why the squad did not pick on her as much as they felt in their hearts they wanted to. Many reasons could explain this, and it would take an expert in child developmental psychology to illuminate them, but it can be put forth without hesitation that one of those reasons was probably due to her having spent less time than the others in opulence, and that she, out of all the daughters, had the most contact, however little it was, with their father, Aleku.
Aldona, the oldest of the four, but a middle child of the sixteen, was bookishly cute, being with freckles and large spectacles, and always, whenever she went outside, even in the most direst of heat, with a baggy orange sweater; she had soft brown hair curled atop her shoulders in big, shiny hoops, a small mouth, and large brown, buttery eyes. Fourteen-year-old Lena was tall, thin, with moon-white skin contrasted with her long, straight chocolately brown hair which reached down to her prominent shoulder blades. She had very long, slender limbs. Her lips were thin and always a light pastel pink, for she barely wore much makeup beyond thick black eyeliner to highlight her most distinct feature, which reminded everyone who encountered them of the Eye of Horus; they were both fierce and thoughtful, but at all times, even when one was out of sight of her, and existed only in the fleetings of imagination, mesmerising. However, she was apt to hunch over slightly, for her shoulders to round into a pinch, because of what she apt to think over and over in her head about herself and her place in the world. She had the appearance of someone who put a great deal of effort into how she looked to the world in an effort to distract from what she inwardly thought about it all. She was a good woman disguised as a bad one. Justyna, or Just, as all who knew her called her, was a tall, pristine, platinum-blonde with bright blue eyes, plump lip-filled lips, a tanned-bronze face, high cheekbones reminiscent of her birthfather, and an overall sharp looking demeanor. Her expression was always serious and brooding, and seldom was it disturbed like an isolated pond underneath a shrub, except for when it came to suggestions that she was not in fact as mature as she presumed herself to be. Her father always called her his “golden goose”, and the name bolstered her ego greatly, for she felt always that she was in competition with her sisters, being the most popular of them all, conceding her constant game-playing only when she was flat out drunk. Celina, on the other hand, although the youngest of the four teenagers presented here, was the most undeserving victim, in her own estimation at least. A secretly shrewd little girl, with soft, green eyes and yellow curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. She was pale and carried herself always with the grace of a princess, with her manners always being over the top exceptional. She was, however, always, in her mind, playing catch up with her older sisters. Overall, each and every sister were starkly different in appearance, but hidden underneath all the sheen and glamour was something Rod unconsciously resonated with deeply. Perhaps that was why he was drawn to them against all reason.
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A sudden cold breeze entered through one of the opened windows, and, having come down from her bedroom wearing only a wifebeater (for they were the latest trend), Just walked over to close it, being the tallest of the bunch. Somehow the sight of their oldest sister leaning forward on her tiptoes had such a striking impression upon the girls, for Just was always the type to get others to do things for her, that every single one of them looked at the strange older man who had intruded upon their discussion just a few minutes ago. Lena stopped chewing and walked up to Rod; Aldona pushed herself to her feet and started towards the stranger, who in her heart felt strangely safe with and drawn too. And Celina, who was twirling so fast on the spot that she was making herself dizzy, forgot all about the man she had so warmly defended at the start, but nonetheless started toward the man too, albeit unaware that she was being brought forward step by step after each playful stumble.
“You’re really a strange fellow,” she said dizzily, her eyes darting to each corner of the room as she staggered side to side like a drunken sailor. “You’re very nice,” she added, thinking to herself that it was awfully mean what she had just said.
“I thought the same,” Lena said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes with curiously, “Perhaps he can tell us a little about himself.”
“No, I asked first!” cried Celina, punching the air with her little fists.
“Don’t listen to these two,” began Aldona, adjusting her glasses once again, but was quickly cut off by Just from the opposite side of the room next to the window she had just closed:
“You are such hypocrites!”
“Maybe he can tell us something cool about dad,” suggested Lena, and she nodded her head at him, “take us to Old Trafford would ya?”
Just’s head boiled red, and she looked as though she was about to explode as she stormed over, her fists clenched into white balls. “Oh, you fucking bitch,” she sneered.
Lena ignored her, her cool eyes remaining on Rod as though she was attempting to read his mind, as though her steel eyes could penetrate flesh and bone. Everybody was quiet as they gazed at the man, waiting for him to speak. When he did not, only emitting the occasional stammer, Lena prompted him with a question, “Who do I remind you of?”
“What?” spluttered Rod in confusion.
“Who do I remind you of?”
“What do you mean?” asked Rod again, his face a contortion of puzzlement.
“Are you deaf?” smirked the biker, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a chuckle. She quickly returned to her usual deadpan expression which she wore to protect herself from getting hurt.
Rod thought for a minute soberly, but then that was interrupted by a sudden detour into intoxication as he remembered the woman in question who had made her home in his heart and then left it in such a state as to be inhospitable for anyone else. “No one in particular,” he said at last, turning away with a blush. “Where’s your damn parents?” he said to the group in a fluster.
“Do we look like we need parents?” snapped Just with a hand on her jeaned waist.
“Yes, you do,” Rod said. “Everyone needs parents,” he added.
“Then where’s yours?” asked Celina dopily.
Rod thought for a minute somberly, and then said, “They’re at home.”
“Why aren’t you there with them? Awfully dangerous ‘round these parts,” Lena said coolly.
Rod crossed his brow. “What do you care for?” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
Lena stepped forward, her boots loudly clacking against the floorboard as they left the rug, her eyes not breaking contact with his for even a moment, and said, “I care because you are in my home. I don’t know if you are a threat to my family, but if you are I must know now so that I can deal with you swiftly and effectively.”