What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Celine Dion - Coulda Woulda Shoulda.
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"JESUS!" I SCREAM, clinging onto the dashboard in front of me. "Joan, slow down!"
Joan Ash drives like a mad woman high on coke.
The famous little sister of Mr. Asshole.
Mr. Ash doesn't talk about his family, obviously, so I knew absolutely nothing about Joan Ash. Although, I was almost eighty percent sure she'd be a brat when Jerry told me of her arrival few days ago.
Then I met her and I was proved wrong. Her mama raised her impeccably well, and while she might love spending very extravagantly, she's the only Ash I genuinely like.
She is a slim, tall lady with brown eyes and black curly hair which she tinted blue at the tips. And right now, she's dressed in denim shorts and a cute pink top.
She's very beautiful, real nice...and loud too. But she looks nothing like Taylor. Mr. Ash and Taylor share little resemblance compared to she and Taylor. And Mr. Ash is also the only one in their family with green eyes. I'm guessing he got it from his dad.
"I can't." She whines, laughing under her breath. "This is why I wanted you to drive." She briefly glances at me, before taking her eyes back to the road.
"'Don't let Alaina drive my car.' Does that ring a bell?" I quote Mr. Ash just before we left the house.
She chuckles. "Yeah, it does." She glances at me again. "Get your hands off the dashboard, Ina. I'm going to be slow now, promise."
She just met me yesterday, yet she's already calling me "Ina." It's not like I'm complaining though.
I subtly roll my eyes and gently let go of the dashboard.
Joan and I are going shopping for her party. I would much prefer Jerry's quiet company, but I get what I get, I guess.
Mr. Ash gave me the contacts of people who have organized previous parties for him, and rather than ask him why he didn't just tell those people to organize this one too, I begrudgingly contacted all of them and made preparations for the decorations, entertainment and email invitations. None of which was a walk in the park, mind you. Most of the people I contacted were complaining about the late information, but a little extra money changed their minds.
"You can just use Davian's card, you know? I won't tell him."
I move my hand to the music dial and turn down the volume of the Nirvana oldie blasting in the car - the same Audi Mr. Ash has chased me out of two good times. I absolutely abhor this car. I don't know why I am in here once again. I guess it's because Mr. Ash isn't the one driving.
