by Ky Crossfire
— Enough, tell me which company you come from already, Nicolas needs no more problems in his life. — She takes a mobile phone from her branded purse.
She walks cautiously over the wet floor, red pumps contrasting against her body-hugging black dress. She takes a picture of the couch.
— See this? This will cost you your job.
— Lookie here, lady… I don’t know if you haven’t took your pills today, of if maybe Nicolas ain’t hitting it right, but, whatever it is, I don’t even care, and I’ll warn once: never put your hands on my earbuds again. Nothing is worse than a dick-needy chick. At least, that sandwich must have been delicious.
Diana raises her hand to slap me, but Nicolas holds her wrist.
— Let her go — I shout. — I wanna see her try. There’ll be not even one single blonde strand left in that head!
— Enough, Isa! — Nicolas bellows.
Chapter 7
Nicolas Santoro Reis
I was almost finishing my last set at the bench press when I heard Isa’s angered voice. I stopped counting my repetitions right there, that was a different sound from the usual screaming of her loud ass singing.
I knew that tone. I dropped the weights and walked towards the frantic voices.
Who the hell was she arguing with?
As I got closer to the living room, the lavender scent got stronger, as did the sound of the sound of unsettled voices.
— Lookie here, lady… I don’t know if you haven’t took your pills today, of if maybe Nicolas ain’t hitting it right, but, whatever it is, I don’t even care, and I’ll warn once: never put your hands on my earbuds again. Nothing is worse than a dick-needy chick. At least, that sandwich must have been delicious.
Diana raises her hand to slap her Isa’s face, but I hold her hand mid-air, and put myself between them.
— Let her go — Isa shouts furiously. — I wanna see her try. There’ll be not even one single blonde strand left in that head!
If I wasn’t there to prevent it, they would roll around in the ground clinging to each other’s hair and fighting.
— Enough, Isa! — I bellow, and both of them become quiet. — Can anyone tell me what is happening here?!
— It’s easy. I think Miss blondie here must resent me for yesterday, when I interrupted y’all’s little water bang.
I let go of Diana’s wrist, using my arms to keep them apart.
— Which hood did you find this take this chick from?
— Diana! — I roar, and she quiets. They look at each other in despise. — Now tell me, what happened?
— Well, it happens that your secretary came in here pulling my earbuds out, trying to teach how to do my job — Isa explains, gripping the broom’s handle tightly.
— Nick, let’s go talk somewhere quieter, I have some issues you need to look at urgently. Then, I’ll give you the number of the company that cleans my house. You know you can’t just put anyone inside your home.
— Diana, enough, i said!
— Lookie here you giraffe, I’ll show you some other things I can do with this broom.
— Isa! Cut it already!
I grab Diana by the arm and walk away from the room. I hear Isa grumbling madly, followed by the sound of the broom scrubbing the floor.
We sat on the chairs close to the pool.
— I’ll say it once, and this time only, Diana, I don’t want to see that little act happening again. This is my home, and I’ll put whoever I want inside it, I don’t need you to hire my housekeepers, you’re not my fucking wife, are we clear?!
Her thin, well drawn lips form a tight line.
— I was just trying to help. I’m not trying to control your life. — She apologizes, placing her hand over my arm. Her long, bright-red-painted nails scrape my biceps lightly. — But that girl was doing everything wrong, the way she was dressed, her loud singing, cleaning it all like a fool. Not even Luciana, that goddamn Mother Teresa, would hire such a low, foul-mouthed woman.
— Fuck dammit, Diana. — I push her hand away from my arm and get up. — I’ve already told you I don’t to hear her name here. Now, tell me what you’re here for, ‘cause I still have to finish my sets before going to the agency.
— Ok, ok, calm down! — She gets on her feet too. — No need to get pissed. — Her hands move away hair strands from my face, and she caresses my beard. — No more touching that subject.
I take her hands by the wrists and hold her.
— I want you to come to house only when I ask you to. No more, no less.
Her blue eyes stare at me, unbelieving.
— All this just because I argued with your new maid. — She smirks. — If you hired her because you’re having a thing for chubby girls now it’s okay to me, you know I’m not the jealous type.
— Shut the hell up, Diana. Doesn’t matter whether Isa cleans my floor, she deserves respect. Today’s little act showed me you need some limits so you don’t get things mixed up.
— Limits? — Her voice is ironic. — You didn’t have any no limits when you got involved with my sister for pure gold digging. If you got all you have today, you owe that to my family, this is our empire. A flash forwarding career, from stagiary to major associate to the biggest model agency in the country, and you only had to knock up the sick boss’ favourite daughter. — She pulls her hands away angrily.
— Your sister got pregnant because she wanted to — I growl. — Insecure and needy as she was, she thought I was going to stay with her solely because she carrying a baby. — I puff. — I don’t have to explain myself to you — I answer harshly. — You know the way out well.
— Limites? — Seu tom é sarcástico. — Você não teve limites quando se envolveu com a
Isa Oliveira Brandão
From afar, I watch their argument from backstage. Oh, fuck’s sake, how I wish I could read lips.
— Oh, Nick, fuck me in the pool again.
— No, I’m not with that energy right now, I just drank a full bottle of shake and ate a shit ton of eggs, all of it just to get hot.
— But, Nick, I won’t be able to sleep properly if you don’t give me my daily dose of dick. Without my meds, I’ll die.
— I’m sorry, Miss Classy Slut.
I laugh to myself at me redub, but my attention soon turns to a burning smell.
I glance towards at the cooktop.
— Shit, shit, shit! — I shout, seeing the dish rag on fire.
If I burn down Wayne Mansion, I can say farewell to my bakery. Think Isa, and think fast!
I grab the flaming cloth with a spatula and throw it all into the sink.
Oh, Devil, you bastard! Trying to sabotage my job!
I turned on the tap and let the water flows over the mini-hearth.
I cough and fan my hands, swaying my arms, trying to make the burnt smell go away through the gigantic kitchen’s windows.
My breath evens out… Damn! That was close. I need a beer after that, to calm my nerves down. That’s way too much drama for one single morning, but, before, I try to spy and see if they are outside still.
I see no one. No hairy wolf nor Miss Whore. I walk to the fridge, open the double door and look at the food for a while, thinking, “what the hell was I going to get?”
Oh, yes! Beer.
I look around for a can, or even a bottle would be nice. Where’s the beer in this house?
— Looking for something specific?
I get up, startled. And there is Nick, looking all hot and sexy, leaning on the counter.
— Damn, boy, are you trying to give a heart attack? — I put my hand over my heart, feeling it beat quickly after the scare.
It looks like his mood is back. Nicolas looks at me with that naughty smirk. He takes a sip of water straight from the bottle, and I see his Adam’s apple move, follow the way his chest muscles move when he takes a breath, and his abs, dear Lord… He’s hot enough to melt butter.
— I’m starving.
He,
the way he is now… I, close to the fridge, is reminding me of the I had last night and how he has promised to fuck me until I screamed.
— Well, eat some fruit then. — I go back to the stove quickly and stir the fried rice with a metal spoon. I feel his eyes roaming my body slowly. I hear him laugh when I start tapping my foot nervously. I turn around, one hand propped on my wait and the other still stirring the rice.
— What’s so funny? — I ask, gruffly. — You woke up in the morning all pissy, the Miss Classy Whore show’s up and you’re a new man, is that right?
Nicolas lets the water bottle down on the counter, and, using his two hands, he gathers his full, goldish-brown hair strand in a loose bun on top of his head. Oh, that’s a nice sight, all the panties go down the moment he does that.
— Oh, it’s nothing… It’s just that today I remembered a song I haven’t singed in a while.
He leaves the kitchen with a smile on his face while he whistles the song that pestered me through my teenage years. “Huppa huppa honey do”...
I finish cooking lunch and take the pans to the table.
— Lunch’s ready! — I call at Nicolas.
I know I should have gone up the stairs, politely knocked on the door and notified him that lunch was being served, but shouting was much more practical and my legs were already tired after going up and down so many stairs.
A couple minutes later, Nicolas came down. He was already dressed in works clothes, his body still fresh from a shower, his scent emanating from him as he came closer, wearing a suit that made me drool.
He grabbed a chair and sit. Looking at the steamy pans, he inhaled deeply.
— Fresh home-style food.
— Yeah, I didn’t really get that whole “nutritional meal plan” thing, but don’t worry, eat, no one has ever died from a quick, homemade meal.
As I walk back to the kitchen, he calls me.
— And you, aren’t you going to eat?
— Of course I will — I answer. — In the kitchen. — He stares at me still.
— You want me to eat with you? — I raise my eyebrow, understanding his question at last. — All of your housekeepers ate their meals at the dinner table too?
— No. You’re not like them. — He cuts the steak. — For a start, they didn’t call me by screaming my name from the kitchen, nor told me to shove it up my… every five minutes and they also didn’t sing and dance for hours straight while working.
I take my hand to my mouth, mocking offense.
— But I never tell you to shove it up you know where. Only when you deserve it.
He chews and swallows.
I walk to the kitchen, grab a plate, cutlery and go back to the table. I serve myself, putting a large portion of rice and a couple steaks on my plate. Dismissing the salad, I put two fried eggs over everything¹.
— What? — I ask, ready to defend myself. — I need food to clean up this mausoleum. You don’t want me in a bad mood, do you?
He smirks and goes back to his food.
— I’m gonna need to do some groceries. There’s lots of things missing, beer included — I say, sipping my juice.
— I don’t drink beer — He answers, cleaning his lips with a napkin.
— Hum… You have no idea what you’re missing. A cold beer when it’s hot outside…
— I’ll leave you a credit card so you can shop for groceries. Now, in the afternoon, I’ll ve at the agency and I’ll only return by night.
Nicolas’ phone rings over the glass table.
— Excuse me. — He answers the phone.
I stay very quiet so I can maybe hear something. I’ll admit it, I’m am the most curious little cat around and I suspect I won’t even sleep properly if I don’t find out what Nicola’s hides behind that door. But, as soon as he steps out of the house, I’ll discover it. I can’t just go through another sleepless night, it’s unhealthy, you know…
— Okay, I’ll be waiting for y’all tonight? — Oh, dammit, I couldn’t hear anything but that last phrase. Y’all? Y’all who?
After putting away the dishes, I ran to my room. Ok, not run, I walked to my room and changed clothes. I put on a low-cut grey cotton dress and flat sandals, since I was in no shape for walking around in heels. I brushed my teeth and put my hair up in a ponytail. I put my bag over my shoulder and followed to the grocery store with my brave Little Carol.
With Nicolas’ credit card in my hand, I stuffed the cart up. While I waited at the line to pay for the groceries, I was distracted by the number of condoms besides me. I remembered Bia’s advice on spot:
“A good diciking every 24 hours, no more.” I laughed to myself and decided to just get, in the shelf under the condoms, some intimate wash and body hair wax. Who knows, maybe… you get what I mean.
When it was my turn to checkout, the line behind me was miles long. If there’s one thing I despise in this earth, it’s lines. Damn! Hell must be somewhat like this, waiting forever, children crying in the background, endless boringness…
I check Nicola’s groceries first. The cashier, quick as a sloth, checks the intimate wash, and a red light turns on.
She gets a mic like those used by telemarketing operators and her voice echoes on the stores speakers.
— Price check. FEMFRESH INTIMATE WASH. Please check FEMFRESH INTIMATE WASH.
I hear laughter from further up the line.
My anger meter goes up.
— Hey, lady, can’t you go a bit faster? And why don’t you talk a little louder, I think there’s some people in China that still don’t know I want to buy the fucking wash.
Fuming up, I walk out of the store, taking the cart to Little Carol.
— What a fucking joke — I grumble to myself, remembering the cashier’s slowliness.
I put the groceries in the trunk. I’d already spent half of an afternoon in that market, which meant I wouldn’t have time to creep around the house and find out what Nicolas was hiding in that room. I get inside the pickup and slam the door, then start the car.
— Isa. — I hear Jorge’s voice.
Oh, no… I must have not been confessing lately, cause, really…
— C’mon Little Carol, don’t leave me hanging right now, you bitch, or I’ll put you in a junkyard with no mercy! — I try to leave as quick as possible.
— Jorge starts walking faster and stops at the truck’s door.
Oh, Lord, you gotta be kidding me… First, the dream; then Miss Classy Slut and now, the cherry on top, I meet Jorge?!
— Izzy, let’s talk.
— Izzy your ass, and you can talk to yourself! — I try to start her, but Little Caril stays dead. Not a single signal of life, nothing.
I get out of the car and feel the harsh sun heat my skin. Jorge is wearing a black tank top and dark athletic shorts, plus squeaky-clean running shoes… the shoes I had washed by hand so they wouldn’t be ruined by the washing machine.
That bastard! I only got even more angry. I got on my phone to call an Uber.
Aaaaargh!
— Fuck me — I grumble in a low voice.
— Let me give you a ride at least.
Jorge puts on that lost puppy face that makes him ravishing, I mean, used to. USED TO, in the past. His almond-shaped eyes were focused on mine. Jorge was the perfect example for the term “being in shape”, athletic body, broad shoulder, thin waist and an easy-going smile that made all women melt. Of course you couldn’t even compare him to Nicolas, I don’t even know why I was doing so, but well, let’s do it… Nicolas was, with no doubt, taller and broader, his wavy hair a beard made him look almost like a sexy barbarian. And when he decided to put his hair on a loose bun… Oh, good Lord...
I puff.
— Ok, give me a ride. But, if you start with any bullshit in the lines of “it was an accident” or stuff, I kick you out of the moving car, and maybe I’ll even run you over after.
When we got to Nicolas’ mansion, I could see Jorge’s eyes widen. He didn’t
say a thing. I knew he had never seen a fancy house like that in all his life, neither had I.
Jorge helped me bring the groceries to the kitchen, even if I had made it clear that I didn’t need his help. I really didn’t!
— Whose house is this, Isa? — Jorge scans me.
— A friend’s — I say it nonchalantly. — You don’t know him.
His gaze tightens.
— How do I not, I know all your friends — He answers. — Is it that Logan guy?
I get pleased to know I could bother him.
— No — I say, smiling. — I’ve told you you don’t know this one. Wait here, I’ll go up to put away my bag and sandals and then I’ll escort you to the exit.
I go to my room, but Jorge follows me. He looks at the queen-sized bed.
— For fuck’s sake, Isa, are you banging this dude?
— What?
— What in the world? — I shout, unbelievable about how he could demand any type of morality from me.
— You said you were always faithful to me, and now you found a sugar daddy to bank you? Some Methuselah, is that right?
I’m going to strangle this fucker using his own tongue!
— I’ve never cared about money, and you know that well, when I met you, you were as broke as me.
— But I’m good looking.
— Too bad that’s all you are — I answer. — Sorry to tell you, sweetie, but that six-pack of yours won’t last forever. And, unlike you, I wasn’t with you just for your looks, I admired you, how dedicated you were on you job, your studies, how you used to make me laugh. I didn’t care about selling sweets in the street to help you pay y for your studies, it was important to you, and thus, it was to me too. But my dreams, you never cared about them, remember?
I stopped talking. I was beyond angry.
— Go away, Jorge. I Nicolas sees you here..
Jorge sighs, pulls his short hair upwards and wets his lips.
— I was so stupid Isa. I had the most amazing woman in this world right in my arms and I let her go away for a stupid escapade.
