“Well… Lynnie, I have dance classes.”
“Oh psshh. They’ll be fine without you for that day. Besides, you’re not even getting paid for it.”
“I don’t mind not getting paid, Lynne. You know it’s—”
“Giving back to the community,” Lynne interrupted with a sigh. “Come on, be a dear to me, will you? I haven’t seen you in two weeks and a few hours is all I’m asking for. Would it kill you to look prettier than you usually are for a night? In heels and a nice dress?”
“Now it sounds like you really want to borrow a dress,” Mikaela laughed.
“Actually I thought about that little number you bought the last time we went shopping. The gold A-line dress?”
“Knew it.”
“I’m so glad we’re the same size. So I’ll pick you up this Saturday, six o’clock sharp?”
Mikaela huffed. “Fine. How fancy is this party anyway that you have to dress like you’re gold bullion or something?”
“Just a lot of big wigs I’d like to impress. You might catch someone big too,” she joked.
“You and your double entendre shit,” Mikaela said.
“Oh you’re using fancy words aren’t you?”
Mikaela laughed. “I read about it, researched a bit about it. I’d like to use big words every now and then that I don’t understand to make—”
“Myself sound more photosynthesis,” they finished together and laughed.
“I’ll see you Saturday, all right?” Lynne said in her trademark croon.
“All right. See you. Love ya.”
“Love ya, too.”
The other line clicked. Mikaela put her phone down to stretch a little. Her neck ached and she massaged it a bit. Then she grabbed her bag to head out to the parking lot. The sun was sinking over the horizon and it had been a long day. She thought about what to cook for that night. Something easy. Or she could cook nothing and just sleep and starve her way to a diet.
Mikaela was a thin woman, and Lynne teased her about her boobs and her butt. “Those are so not a black woman’s assets,” she’d tease her good naturedly.
Lynne was the only one who could tease her that way, and Mikaela teased Lynne in the same harsh, yet comical manner. Mikaela drove down the street, feeling the cool air come from the ocean. She loved the beach, but had seldom gone to one in months. Life just happened, working life just took over her.
She drove a beat-up car, a 2005 Honda Accord she had paid for in cash. She loved the car nonetheless, despite its aging exterior and interior. Lynne had joked she could sell it as an antique. She didn’t want to, for practical, monetary purposes. She had saved a substantial amount, enough for two years of nursing school, but that was only two years, far from the bachelor’s degree she wanted. She’d have to work three more years at the café or find work that paid at least $4,000 a month. Or she could leave the apartment she had come to love. It was a studio, twenty-four square meters of neatness that she tried to decorate well enough, like the ones in architectural digests. She bought used furniture, salvaged abandoned pieces and did those DIY projects that she had come to hate and love at the same time.
She tried to incorporate bits and pieces of her childhood into her apartment, whatever she remembered was in their old house, that old house with its picket fence and the tall columns. Her father had been the only child, and her mother was also an only child. Mikaela and her brother had a happy childhood and she had been spared from that accident only because she played hooky.
They were attending her brother’s awarding of Best in Reading and Best in Math for his grade year. She was fifteen years old and had gone through that rebellious stage where she wanted to hang out with her friends and get to know a few boys better, perhaps score a date. She had used the excuse that she needed to do some group study.
She had regretted that moment in the deepest parts of her soul. She could have died with them, but she was alive because she lied. To give some semblance of comfort to herself, she felt that she was alive for a purpose. Her whole family had left her on earth for a purpose. She didn’t want to delve in the pain of it, so she forced herself to move forward to the best of her youthful ability.
There were times that Mikaela felt lonely, but she didn’t let it get the best of her. In the rarest times, on one of those cold nights in Malibu, she would walk down the beach and listen to the sea just to alleviate her loneliness and the memory of her family.
***
The nonchalant-looking man, wearing a charcoal gray suit and sunglasses, walked out of the café after taking a few sips of his coffee. It was good coffee, he had to admit, and he’d had coffee in five-star hotels in far flung mountains during his travels and in the comforts of his own homes. Plus, the barista had this lovely smile he wished was on some of his employees’ faces. He was happy to give that hundred-dollar tip; it would brighten the minimum wage people’s days for sure.
Justin Henderson was a twenty-eight-year-old businessman with a knack for making millions in hours. His muscular build and his strict mouth certainly helped with business, as everyone took him seriously. Physically he wasn’t intimidating, although he was a force that no one would have wanted to reckon with. His dark eyes made people conscious, and those who were supposedly confident in their tasks were no longer sure if it was done properly—all for the way he stared.
He also had a beard that he maintained at a maximum length, which was a hassle, but it made him recognizable as Justin Henderson, businessman extraordinaire. Justin Henders
on wore tailor made suits and genuine leather shoes made by artisans in Italy. He was rather vain and justifiably so. One had to look the part of the successful, powerful man who didn’t have time to look the least bit sloppy.