"Valeria Livingstone, get your insolent self here or so help me I'll cut out your braids!"
The girl in question, Valeria, emerged grudgingly from within her capacious closet; earning her a prim, exaggerated gasp from the woman who had yelled her name. Valeria ignored her and sauntered towards the mirror, her path illumined by the rays spilling in from the room's windows.
The girl being reflected in the dainty mirror looked more like an exquisite fairy than a breathing human. Her auburn hair was expertly styled and so scrupulously fitted in a bun, which was in turn fastened with a peacock-feathered hairpin. Her bangs slipped before her on either side, enhancing her pretty features. Her already bodacious frame was enfolded in an elegant, off-shoulder peachy dress; and the necklace with which she complimented it was of tripartite form, consisting of ruby, nacre and crystal. Her milky complexion wore a particular sheen as she delicately strapped gloves onto her both hands.
"My sweet little girl," her mother cooed. "Your look could put Juno herself to spite."
Valeria rolled her eyes. Her mother had to be wary of comparing her to the queen of deities. "I'd say thank you so much, but that would imply I actually like what I'm doing."
"Nonsense." Her mother snapped her fingers vainly. "Emery might, or even more certainly, will actually die when he sees you dressed like this."
Valeria groaned. Why on earth had her mother brought him up? "Why am I even going through with this?"
"Darling," her mother palmed her jawline. "You might disfigure yourself if you frown too hard. And besides, Emery's father is a justice of the peace. Your marriage is a necessity if we're going to keep the wealth in our family."
"Mum, I'm twenty-one and—"
"I was betrothed to your father at seventeen."
"But this is the twenty-first century! Nobody gets married so early anymore," she protested.
Her hands, which she had since withdrawn from her daughter's jaw, suddenly found her own temples, rubbing them in a frustrated fashion. "You don't know everybody, much less their marital preferences. Now, I've asked your chaperone to be with you throughout your meeting this afternoon, and the chauffeur will be here at one. Until then, would you like a croissant? Or better still, éclairs?"
What I want is for you to stop being such a matriarch about my own marriage, she thought. All she voiced out was, "I'm not hungry. I had way too many casseroles a few hours ago."
Her mother huffed. "What if you get hungry while you're with Emery? I can't have you upsetting him with your boorish demands."
"He's my fiance, mother. If he can't see me at my worst, then he's probably not right for me."
Her mother guffawed and turned to leave. "You read far too many romance novels for your own benefit. Perhaps I'll buy you a personalised helicopter so you can learn something productive." She walked away and shut the door, her steps almost noiseless as she walked down the hall.
Valeria was about to unleash a drumfire of slurs against her mother when her phone tinkled. Normal phones buzzed, but her parents had said it was uncultured to have hers on vibration; according to them, only burglars and other criminals did that when they had something to hide. She picked up her phone, her face beaming with delight. "Oh my gosh, Nyle!"
He chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Hey, redhead. How's it going?"
She exhaled deeply. "Where have you been for months? All you do is text, and even that's on a less frequent basis."
"I'm so sorry." His voice was playfully deep. "I've been busy. Rushmore's got me very occupied."
She smiled. "You're stupid if you think that's going to disturb our six-year-old friendship." Her eyes shut as memories of their time in the university fluttered across her consciousness. They'd both graduated together: she was valedictorian, and naturally so. He was seven places behind the salutatorian, and she was certain everyone back then knew of how close-knit they were. "You're forgiven," she declared cheerfully.
He laughed. "I'm glad to hear that."
She heard the sound of vehicles screeching against asphalt. "Nyle, where are you?"
"I'm in your end of town," he stated. "I just left the Rushmore Art Fare. There's a week-long symposium going on there."
"Aren't you supposed to be in court or something?" It may have been months since she last heard his voice, but she was still solicitous of him nonetheless.
"I got the rest of the day off. My boss was ecstatic we won some oil rig case and he said I could go loosen up."
"And your idea of doing that is visiting an art house?" She was cackling.
"I'm sorry if i can't take a first class flight to some fancy island like you can," he retorted, still chuckling.
"You never asked me to take you on a beach date!" She complained jokingly.
"I'm not the one whose dad is gunning for Provincial Governor," he retorted.
"You know?"
"Val, I'm a freaking attorney. I think I'd know who's going for what—" His words halted when he bumped into some guy in ripped jeans, a sports shirt and a durag.
"Hey, watch your step, wanker!" The guy roared. He mouthed a rushed apology.
"Nyle, are you okay?" Valeria's concerned voice rang through his phone.
"Yeah, I just almost rammed my body into some guy. Hey, how about we meet up?"
Valeria let surprise course through her. "Where?"
"The Lunaria maybe," he offered.
She puffed. "Nyle, you don't drink."
"You do know the place has got a food court, right?"
"It does? Huh." Hers was an ignorant tone at that point.
He scoffed. "Oh! My apologies," he scorned. "His Excellency's daughter doesn't wine and dine at middle-class joints."
She grimaced and then puffed. "Give me a time so I'll—"
The door swung open and her visibly enthused mother wound her way in. "Emery's here."
Valeria grunted. "Bye, Nyle. I've got to go pretend I actually like a man."
She shoved her phone into her clutch and stood up, letting her mother conduct her out of the room.
×+×
Joey hadn't had tough luck. He'd managed to rough a shopkeeper up and coerce his way into getting new, less horrendous clothes. He'd also cowed the man into sparing him a few bucks. No, they weren't really few, but he didn't care. Now he was seated at the side end of the Lunaria, a place swarming with the whole gamut of people. He'd had a few drinks, but he still felt substantially sober. He needed to ascend to the heavens, and for some awkward reason, he didn't quite feel like he was there yet.
He spotted a girl sitting unaccompanied at a table diametrically opposite his. With the way she looked, all sultry and defiant, sporting thick, untamed locks and an attractive epicanthic fold on her moderately lean face, she looked very oriental. He knew it was offensive, but he didn't care. He'd just screw her and get out. He hadn't had girls in years.
When he stood, he noticed she was joined by a guy and another girl. He felt himself seethe as the dark-skinned man was making conversation with his prey while the other girl latched her palms around his bulging forearm. He was the same man he'd crashed into earlier that day; and even then, he was on the phone with some girl.
He was already starting to stomp towards them when his sight was diverted by two men ravenously slurping their tongues against each other. He felt rage flare in his heart as he marched towards them.
"Get out of here, damned fags! " He ordered them.
They halted their kissing and turned, glowering dangerously at him. But that wasn't what alarmed him.
What alarmed him was that they were roaring at him; and when he looked at them, all he saw were bloodred eyes and sabre teeth that were now plunging towards him at an impossible speed.