Mistaken Identity

Chapter 8 Ms. Wilson

"Ms. Bisson it's time to wake up," I heard similar to my alarm. I groan.

"I don't wanna," I replied in a childless tone. My face showing a pout.

"Ms. Bisson the plane landed thirty minutes ago, Mr. Carter has being waiting for you in his car." That

brought me back reality. I took off my glasses and rubbed my sleepy eyes. I reluctantly stand up and

grap my bags. I looked at the airhostess that was straddling Carter. I cut my eyes and mummer

"Pathetic," enough for her to hear. I quickly came out of the Private plane. I didn't care if she heard me.

Who straddles someone in front of people? She's a complete bitch.

I saw a black Mercedes. The windows were down and a set of emarld eyes staring at me. I entered the

car on the opposite side. As soon as I entered the car the chauffeur, start the engine. I sat across from

Cater. He had all his attention of his phone, texting away. He was obviously trying to avoid a

conversation with me. I followed and took out my phone along with my earphones.

Chris Brown-Love More ft Nicki Minaj starts playing. I love Rap mix with R&B, I loved music. It is my

escape from this cruel world. Music takes me a place free of worries. All my problems cease to exist

when I listen to music.

In my teens, I was a street dancer, secretly of course in the real world I was a nerd. I love the danger

that came with dancing. I loved when cops will run us down in the park. I loved dancing itself. That was

my secret not even my sister knew about it. I told her I spent time at the library and she believed. She

never entered in the library to see if I was telling the truth because she was too popular to be caught in

a library. At that time of my life I was a secret rebel. I didn't dance as often as I did as a teen. That

reminds me, today was Wednesday, I was an assistance dance teacher for Carlos dance studio. I

search my contracts and call him, I got voice mail so I left a message.

"Carlos, I won't be able to make today or any other day for some time. I'm in Los Angeles. Tell the

kids I said hi," I said in Spanish. "I'll miss you my friend. Thanks for your help. Bye." I ended the call.

Carlos is the closest friend I had after my sister and I didn't let anyone else in. Carlos was gay best

friend and also best friend. He is Hispanic and some was my step father, Henrique. Carlos was one of

the rebels I hang out with back in Las Vegas. He moved to New York two years before I did and we met

up back in a coffee shop. I smiled as I remember the encounter.

"You know emo girls where never my type I just simply prefer girls with red-hair." I heard the voice

behind me said. I quickly turned around, to see who was brave enough to tell me I was emo. A nerd

yes, but emo? Nope, not at all.

"Carlos," I was shocked to see my gay friend in front me. I hugged him immediately and he laughed.

He quickly release me and took a seat in the empty spot around my table. I followed and sit.

"Where is the red head I used to know? " He asked mentioning to my hair.

"Yea, I kind of dyed it," I replied. I dyed my hair so I wouldn't look like my twin who had broke my

heart.

"No shit Sherlock," he said. I rolled my eyes.

I stared out the tainted windows of the Mercedes. I continue staring that until I saw the car being turned

into a mansion. It was of cream color, it was the most beautiful place I'd ever laid eyes on.

I looked across and I saw sand then my eyes caught the sea. Wow, not only was this home beautiful, It

was also close to sea. This place is a paradise.

The Chauffeur parked outside the mansion. He came out of the car in haste. I made my way to opened

the car, but the chauffeur opened it for me, he gave me a smile. I returned it, and said, "Thank you,"

Carter came behind me but didn''t say thanks to the driver. He made his way to door and I followed

slowly behind him. I saw him press the doorbell. Why did he do that? Weren't we at his place?

The door opened and a lady in a plate uniform opened the door. She has faded grey hair. She had a

smile on her face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Carter." She turned and then she saw me. Her face showed

an immediate growl and the smiled disappeared. With that reaction I knew she didn't like me, he must

have told her about my sister. "Good afternoon, Ms. Bisson."

I offered her a light smile. "Hi,.."

"My name is Cynthia Wilson, but you'll address me as Ms. Wilson. Please follow me and I'll take you to

where you'll be staying."

"Okay," I lightly said taking up my luggage that the chauffeur left at my feet. Ms. Wilson is as scary as

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