Chapter 4 You always have a choice, my dear

SERA Ever since that dinner, I'd declared a cold war with Reggie—although it only seemed to go one way because he didn't seem to give a fuck. He'd still smile and make witty or even mocking comments when I started giving him an attitude or throwing passive-aggressive lines. This was the day Reggie had promised. Since a few hours ago, he'd actually sent four cars at different times to pick them up, the Blackwood Brothers. Betting my ass, Ace would definitely rise to the ridiculous challenge and come here in his CEO suit—err, his lawyer suit. As for the remaining three, I couldn't guarantee their arrival. And me … I couldn't say no, I probably didn't even have the courage to say no to Reggie's wishes. He's been very much a part of my life and I respect him immensely. “Is there anybody you expected to show up today?” I blinked, realizing I had been lost in my thoughts. “Wh-what?” I asked, coming back to reality and looking at Reggie. His thick book rested on his lap, his eyes behind his reading glasses looking at me attentively. “You've been... staring out the window for minutes.” I closed the window curtains and pretended to look for a book on a nearby shelf. “Don't talk nonsense. I'm not interested in them.” “None?” Reggie raised one eyebrow. “Not a single one,” I insisted, then walked over to him with a book in hand, which I probably wouldn't read right now, under the circumstances. “Well, whereas I'm just proud that my sons are so fine looking,” he said, shifting his butt slightly on the dark red sofa. “Oh my, what a proud man you are,” I sneered, then leaned my head on his big arm, floating a little because I didn't want to give him too much of a burden. I often took the time to accompany Reggie to our home library on weekends, enjoying our time together as father and daughter. Reggie now has more free time than he did two years ago, after the disease began to consume his body. Reggie giggled softly, which I could feel he was exerting quite a lot of energy to do so. After one long breath, he asked, “Have you made the decision to participate with them?” “You ask as if I have a choice.” “You always have a choice, my dear.” Yes, but the choice he gave was ninety percent versus ten percent. Even a pig knows which one to choose. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the weight of Reggie's expectations heavy on my shoulders. “What do you expect me to do, Reggie? Choose one of them like some prize at the end of a game?” Reggie glanced at me, his expression softening as he reached out to gently pat my hand. “No, my dear. This is not a game. It's about finding the one who can truly carry on the legacy of the Blackwood family with honor and respect.” “But how am I supposed to choose?” I asked quietly, looking up at Reggie with a mix of apprehension and confusion. “With eenie meenie miney mo?” He chuckled softly. “I'll give you times. You'll live here together, and they'll know what to do. They will be desperate to prove themselves to you, and when the times comes, you will know. Just believe in yourself like I do in you.” I let out a long breath. He had been the only stable presence in my life, the one who had raised me with love and care when no one else would. The thought of disappointing him was unbearable. “By the way, do you think all four of them will come?” “Yes, without exception,” Reggie replied confidently. “Wanna bet?” I challenged. There was a possibility in the back of my mind that one of Beck or Damon-or maybe even both-wouldn't show up. Damon had shown too much dislike for this family—especially Reggie—during dinner that night. As for Beck, I guess he was still too naive to judge what was really going on. “I know more about them, Sera. Whether they like it or not, they will come. Trust me, the Blackwood blood runs deep in them anyway." “Why are you so sure?” “We'll see.” I quickly straightened up, “That means we'll make a bet.” I reached into my cardigan pocket as well as my pants pocket, searching for the contents, and finally collected a 100-dollar bill, three 50-dollar bills and some 5-dollar bills. “I bet at least one of them doesn't come,” I said, placing the money on the short table in front of us. ”Well, at least today.” Reggie grinned, it was the face he put on when doing business deals that would bring him huge profits. “I'll give you five times that amount of money if you win.” “Deal!” I said cheerfully. “Looks like someone's coming,” Reggie said, as I heard the sound of cars below. I ran to the window and opened the curtains wide, seeing a black car coming. And when a tall man in a neat gray suit stepped out of the car, I grinned unconsciously. I knew it was Ace Vance who was the most excited about this inheritance battle. “Who's there?” Reggie with his walking stick approached me. “Your highly ambitious eldest son.” Reggie chuckled. “Not surprisingly, his mother is the same way.” I rolled my eyes and faced the window again. Reggie beside me seemed enthusiastic. Moments later, two cars arrived in tandem. Two people each got out of it: one wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and chino pants—Cal, while the one from the car behind him was a lean man in a loose plaid shirt with jeans—Beck, which made my forecast miss. I heard a proud murmur from Reggie beside me as I watched them each being escorted by our house servant. My heart beat faster with anxiety when the last car arrived. A man in a black shirt approached the stopped car, but refused to open the door as the driver engaged him in conversation. He then retreated to his spot again and the last car followed the other three. “Ha! That punk don’t come!” I taunted Reggie cheerfully, but his expression was undeterred. “You owe me atleast 1500 dollars!” Reggie stopped me from closing the curtains. “Wait,” he said. I gave him a questioning look, but Reggie's gaze was far away. His eyes narrowed, his forehead wrinkled. And when he started grinning, I turned to look out the window. “Fuck,” I cursed, unable to believe what I was seeing. Down below, a man in a black leather jacket and black pants was gliding like a superstar on his big motorcycle. “Well ....” Reggie said. He folded my money—which he had taken from the table—and put it in his pocket. His grin grew wider when I squinted in annoyance. “Let's welcome those special guest, shall we?” *** 061224, Anne Joyce