✴✴✴Late November, Six months later ✴✴✴
"Sup, Sonic! Scotch on the rocks as starters please." Vine orders staring at the bartender with blue hair locks.
"Sure thing Cedrene," Sonic replies, smiling getting her the drink. "Draining the stress, huh?" She takes her seat. Before she could respond, a voice beat her to it.
"Only wimps drink scotch as starters. You look like one so I'm not surprised." The voice criticizes. Cedrene gives a sharp turn to catch a glimpse of her prey. His haircut was a bit naff. His shoulders were tensed and his eyebrows compressed. His lips sealed on the tip of the glass sipping his half drink with a scorn spread across his face probably being here for a while.
Coming to Poland so far was a great idea in terms of hiding. Knowing her mother wouldn't bother to search for her there, she occupied a place in Warsaw. She found herself an inexpensive apartment in a decent building filled with mixed races. There was this polish old couple who ate taunts as food. They gave her no peace of mind. They thought of her as a terrorist. They have made several complaints to their local police about her. They and her workmates at the hospital stretch her to the brink.
This resulted in her going back to her previous lifestyle. She found Grimes club when she bumped into Sonic, a crazy friend of hers back in university. He had come to study photography. They caught along and found he married a tennis player. He invited her which she accepted five months ago. The couple hadn't allowed her to settle before they started their tantrums. They accused her of unnecessary petty crimes she did not commit. Peeve was understatement.
"Excuse me. What did you just say?" She snaps her patience on the verge of breaking.
"You heard what I said." The uncouth man retorts.
"How about you say it to my face instead of being a chicken!" He turns to look dead in her eye.
"I said, only wimps. drink scotch. as starters." He repeats, smirking. Cedrene flushes red of anger.
"How dare you!," she barks. "I hate to break it to you, only wuss drink vodka as starters." His smirk vanishes.
"What did you just say to me?"
"You heard me right, loud and clear."
"Wanna bet?"
"What's in it for the winner?"
"The winner gets treated without paying a dime." He negotiates.
"Zloty. Zloty is used here not dime."
"Whatever. Do we have a deal or not?" His tone carried irritation.
This attracted the attention of a busy Sonic.
"Guys! No fights please. Do not start a brawl for hell to break loose." Sonic pleads to deaf ears. He didn't care about their fight. He cared about its conclusion — a wrecked club.
"Sounds fair. Deal!" She agrees because of the free drinks.
"That's it then. Sonic, serve as your hardest, weakest, expensive, local, continental and strongest drinks. Just don't hold back. This puny praying mantis here must be taught a lesson." The uncouth man orders. Not that Sonic had a say in their decisions.
"Praying mantis!" Cedrene cries.
"So you accept that you are puny then."
"Piss off. Let's get a comfy seat." She offers.
They made themselves comfortable in a backseat far away from prying eyes. They began their contest when a waitress served them rum first.
"First of, I am Cedrene. What's yours?"
"Mine is Zaph. Now let's begin the process of your doom." He teases to which she scoffs.
They drank all that was offered. From rum to mojito, rosé, tequila, scotch, whisky, gin then beer. They were out of the existing universe.
Unknown to each other, they were temporarily downing their sorrows away.
✴✴✴Ukraine✴✴✴
The photographer mounted his digital camera as he waited for the consent of his partner. He sighed as Alva glanced at the new snapshots with disgust. He didn't have to be told. He also found the pictures lacking. They have to change the models. He watched as he pent up his anger in his orders.
"Jory and Mars! Someone get those brats down here. Now!"
The fashion week which always happened in Milan, London, Paris or New York was happening in Odessa. Alva had a hot couture exposure. This was going to blow everyone's senses away but he lacked human resources.
"Sorry, Marco! Let's snap the photos again. Different setting this time. It's not working." He grumbles as the pictures go flying into the trashcan.
"No problem, Al. Glad you could also see they lack the spark."
"How can I make a hot couture exposure when my models lack the spark? Now I have to coach these newbies. I feel a headache coming along." Alva whines rubbing his temples as Marco gives him a look of assurance.
"Sir, they are here." One of the workers inform.
"Jory, Mars go get ready. Wardrobe C , you will find your dress line there," Alva orders. " Hurry up! I ain't got time."
The two women scurry off to do what they had been told. They return to find the place ready for the shoot. They snap a few shots then head for the illuminated runway.
"Now listen, you two will appear at the same time to the middle of the runway. Then, Jory will switch to the opposite lane which is the right, Mars, left lane. You fit this exchange in the modelling. Do you get me?" Alva explains demonstrating the idea on the runway. They nod affirmative causing him to gleam. He hoped they understood. At least his confidence was boosted.
As she swaggered into the auditorium, her red jumpsuit stuck out in the all white decorations. She swore Alva had obsessive compulsive disorder(OCD). The place was squeaky clean. The foldable chairs clothed in white with big gold ribbons on it as decoration were arranged perfectly. The interior design of colours white and gold looked flawless. She wished this was her wedding the decor was done for. The barking voice coming from the runway area drew her from her trance. She marched towards it. The words became clearer as she walked through the white double door.
"Jory, jut your hips. It is the outfit you're advertising not your face. Mars, let go of your rigid stance. Be flexible. If you wanna make it out in the fashion world, let the tension go, dude." She couldn't help but notice a man in a pair of grey trousers and white shirt tucked in with no tie or blazer shouting at two poor models who looked like newbies. The tall blond one was scowling and the petite brown haired was on the verge of tears.
'They won't make it'. The woman thought. It was time to make herself known. She requested the audience of Alva through one of his workers.
"Who is looking for me? Let them wait, I'm busy." She heard him say.
"Even if it is me?" She asks when she got to the left side of the runway opposite the side of Alva whose back was to her. Alva turns to look at the intruder.
"You!" Both sync. One carrying cockiness and the other disgust.
"You are Alva Marylis?" She gapes unsure.
"Yep,and you must be Caitlin Gay?" Alva states.
It's Caitlin Gray." She sneered. Alva stares at the same woman he shoved down the pavement months back in astonishment.
He arcs an eyebrow. "So we meet again brunei." Everyone present stared in fascination at the level of 'recognition' between their boss and The Caitlin Gray.
"I'm afraid I'm not leaving soon. I am coming for revenge especially for my beautiful dress." Both of them knew what she was talking about. Alva smirks slightly at the thought.
"Wait... Caitlin Gay as in Caitlin Gay of Zephyr Chain?" He repeats awestruck. Zephyr Chain was one of his competitors in the fashion world. To have the pleasure of shoving Gay to the ground, damn! he was proud of himself.
"The one and only!" She hoots her own trumpet. "You know they don't stand a chance. Do you?" She motioned to the models. His smirk disappears.
"I bloody know that!" He snaps. "Don't rub it in. If it wasn't HB styles stealing my models, it would have been fine!" Alva snides.
"Hey! I was just highlighting your lacking." The designer and model shoots back. They have a glare down.
Not long, the sound of octaves higher than normal resonated through the building. It carried 'fire'. Confusion etched in the atmosphere until it was confirmed that the beautiful auditorium for the fashion event was in blaze. Alva's couture exposure was in trouble.
✴✴✴New Zealand✴✴✴
"This side of the building towards the beach must be broken down." The strawberry blondie states passionately.
He stared at her intently. He was not listening to all the crap she was spilling. He knew by fact it was a great idea. At least his woman is intelligent as him. Enrique was admiring the beauty in front of the fifteen board of directors and himself. He loved the sound of her voice when she's all business. He winced at the sound of the scrape her fingernail made on the white projection board.
The projector displayed the plans of a new cellar exhibit Elixir Wines wish to build. He must admit, she knew what she was talking about. Her blue pencil like skirt leaning just above her knee raised a little due to her pacing. The tapping of her moderate white pumps plus her outfit made her look like a woman of business and a seductress as well in his eyes.
He didn't like how the men in the room gazes drew to the bit of her exposed ivory skin. He wanted to see all that for himself; perhaps even more. She skidded to a stop when she got to her seat after the presentation. She had their attention. She hoped they liked the idea especially Enrique who was a hard nut to crack. Her plan was simple: They should rather renovate the old cellar at Papua New Guinea. It wasn't old or beaten down, it simply needed a bit of maintenance, touches and finishes.
Also, they should improve the technology over there. She bet her life that doing this would attract more investors as well as tourists. She also added a hint that the decorations should be made traditional. She didn't care about the views of the board of directors or the allies, she cared about the view of only one person in the room: him. Him as in the one sitting at the top of the conference table as head of the board. He was Enrique Marylis.
He was English but carried a Hispanic name. She found out the reason when she searched about him on the internet. It only said: Enrique Marylis was named after Enrique Juan Pablo Alvarez, one of the prestigious founders of the real Elixir wines whose main base used to be in Granada, Spain. He was strong willed and free spirited something which Enrique's father wanted him to have. Her trance was broken when she heard him remark.
"Why should we renovate that instead of the one in Canberra, Miss Finnegan?" Behind the stoic façade, he was feeling a rush of pride in his system. His girl blew their minds. It all had to be ruined by his one stupid remark. All eyes remained on her as she straightened her posture. She held his gaze.
"Mr. Marylis, as I explained earlier, this would attract more investors into the country." Her voice flowed.
"Only investors? For the country?" He taunts. "How about other people such as robbers and burglars." His sleek black hair matching his suit glowed unusually.
"I thought I made it clear about security being one of its major improvement. By far weren't you following?" She pushes his buttons.
His jaw ticks and he smirks.
"What can I do to make you apart of the company?" He persists unleashing his dimples. " how about you give me something more persuasive. "
She sighs. Trying her luck, "the serene view nature provides no matter the time boosts the idea of drinking wine. It is ideal." His heart swells again. He knew she is smarter than what she displays. She simply needed a harsh push.
"Alright then, Carlton," he calls his assistant. "Make sure the deal is signed and bring the finalisation to my office!" Ordering without waiting for a response. He walked out of the glassy conference room.
He relaxed back into his swivel chair after another brain draining lecture in a board meeting. The stacked papers flew towards the direction of the open window. His brown mahogany desk was vaguely decorated. It had one family picture of all eight members in it, a few stacks of pens and pencils, a lamp stand, a desk calendar, laptop and a name holder with his engravings in it.
The white walls and brown furniture had low creativity. He wondered how the rest were faring. Whether Irwin was behaving, Adelita was being serious, D-Norris keeping calm and Nitzveh being normal. Irwin was competitive (his downfall), Adelita was cunning (her free spiritedness), D-Norris was banned from some countries(his wildness) and Nitzveh was unstable (her unpredictability). In short, their abnormality scared him. He bent to pick up a few of the scattered papers near the window. He shut it permanently, automatically turning on the air conditioner.
He didn't notice Miss Finnegan enter. His green eyes glistened in delight when he saw her arranging the papers on the table. He approached her foregoing the papers in his hands on the brown table. Her body was trapped between his and the table. He slipped his arm around her waist and nuzzled his face in the back of her neck causing her to tense. She tried wiggling her way out if his grip.
"Just for a few minutes, Salem," he pleads. "Please?"
She relaxed sensing his stodginess. She knew the gravity of the matter when it came down to his siblings. She also knew that what transpires between them was on rocks at the moment nonetheless deep down he cared about her, about them. He nuzzled his nose deeper into her neck and hair breathing in her fragrance. His fears slowly disappeared giving him the peace he deserved.
A few minutes turned to hours however his head laid on her laps in the beige couch a few meters away from his working desk. Her fingers couldn't stop themselves from passing through his black hair. Her eyes were a different case. They raked over his body especially his face missing the green orbs which were covered. In fact, he felt tranquil. She couldn't help but feel unusual calmness with the whole ordeal.
'He asked for permission as a true gentleman would, right?' She thought. She had only come to deliver the finalized contract as his assistant had to run an important errand.
A faint blush tainted her cheeks when he caught her staring at him. He loved the effect he had on her. He didn't mind since it was all hers. He woke up when her fingers failed to do their magic in his hair. It was late. He offered to drop her home however she claimed she had something doing at the north side of Auckland. He wished her safe travels albeit disappointed. His assistant alerted him when his chauffeur arrived. He got in puzzled by the goth darkness. He moved to turn on the little lamp but it lighted unexpectedly.
"Hello there, son!" Lavinia in her own glory greeted with a despicable smile.
"Mother," is all he uttered with calm. Deep within, he was stunned and feared for his siblings.
✴✴✴Philippines✴✴✴
"I killed my own mother with my bare hands." The convict confessed gazing at his palms as if the blood was still present. A shrill scream came after deafening the ears of those around in the interrogation room.
"You what?" Nagela screamed in her glorifying shrill tone.
"Dr. Elixir, doing this would not help. You are here to help so calm down and think with a cold mind." Dr. Bowie, her instructor and expert in psychology rebukes.
"Calm down? Argh! I had to listen to how a fifty year old man raped his twelve year old niece a week ago, l had to also listen to the gruel tales of a man who sold human genitals just yesterday. For what? Money! Now this? My brain can't take it anymore. The images are playing in my head as if I was present." Nagela protests. Dr. Bowie and the convict in the interrogation room gave her a dull look.
She was in interrogation room C with Dr. Bowie listening to the confessions of the inmates. Their goal was to help those with trauma and dysfunctions any psychological way they could. So far so good, Nagela was officially traumatized but not from the tattooed men she met four months ago.
"I wasn't the one who chose criminology or criminal psychology." Dr. Bowie, already spotting grey hair deadpans. Nagela deflates in defeat after realizing all were her choices.
She didn't expect it to go this far. If this was how it was, she was in for more. She felt like strangling the convict with twine. Having no further options other than continuing, she motioned for him to continue his story. All what she had been taught in med school vanished from memory completely.
'Why? Why didn't I follow Nitz to study cardiology. Maybe I could have done internal medicine. Better still become a tour guide or a curator'. She cried internally cussing herself for her 'misfortune'.
Her heart was too fragile to listen to such stories. Even the conjuring movies were okay. She had dealt with petty cases four months before Dr. Bowie claimed she was ready for hardcore. Her brain had been infested just as she sent the virus into D-Norris' laptop to quiet down his laptop addiction according to her. If you were to go through her memories, you wouldn't make it back on earth. The convict's story stunned her to the core. How could one kill his/her own mother? Yes, she has fantasized death by guillotine for her mother before. But still....
She remembers vividly the day she was admitted at lotus rehabilitation centre in Nepal. Her mother had caught her taking opium. It wasn't her fault for that. During her mother's gestation period when she was carrying her, opium was one of the ingredients used in her medicines. She took it too often causing Nagela to get addicted to it.
At age nine, she caught a whiff of the opium Nitzveh was using for a science project. She stole substantial amount and used it for herself. Soon it became unbearable that was until Nitz found out and poisoned her. She almost died but that helped removed three fourths of opium out of her system. Enrique and the others made it in a tablet form whereby she took one once a week when the cravings sufficed.
She hadn't taken it in a while but that was a different case altogether. Nitzveh wasn't here to cuddle her and D-Norris wasn't here to tease her of being a Scaredy cat. Oh! How she missed them. The siren blasted off. The visitation session was over. All convicts returned to their cells.
She and Dr Bowie made it to his car still quivering with fear. The expert didn't have time to console a newbie especially an over opinionated female. He had chosen her amongst the rest because he thought she was different. Indeed she was. Far away from human civilization.
"Can we stop at Puchero cuisine, Dr Bowie?" She croaks as she buckles her seatbelt.
"Puchero cuisine? Where's that?" He asks startled receiving a glare. He shuts his mouth knowing that look all too well.
He was starting to regret his decision of beginning the hardcore early as possible. He stops at the said place after being given the directions. It was not to his liking. It was shabby to be exact. The sliding door was broken, the wooden chairs were tightly packed and overall the place was as noisy as hell with teenagers, adults and blasting speakers. He couldn't here a thing except for the horrendous music according to him but Nagela looked happy to be there. She couldn't say a thing without yelling.
"Are you okay?" She yells directing them to an empty table for two.
"Where's this place? So shabby!" He comments.
"Appearances are deceptive." She retorts. A waitress approaches them.
"Anything you want to order, Sir? Madam?" The waitress yells at them.
"No, nothing for me," he dismisses yelling.
"How can you say that after all that has happened?" Nagela reprimands receiving another dull look from him. "You know what, I'll order for you. My treat however you're still paying." She doesn't give him a chance to refuse and goes on ordering. After a while, its placed before them.
"Your food, Dr Bowie. Enjoy!" She chirps ignoring the uncomfortable man as she begins hers.
Almost to finishing his relish, Dr Bowie couldn't help agree with the young woman that appearances are deceptive. He noticed that the newbie's relish was different. Heck only a few ate the type he was eating. He found it to be a special meal. He began to fret about the cost. He could not help but compliment.
"I can't help but feel ashamed of my judgement earlier."
"And why is that?" Nagela raises a quizzical eyebrow plopping a deep fried prawn in her mouth.
"The duck drumsticks are delicious! I haven't even got to express how the bacon is! I must ask what type of breed they serve." He rambled off in his praises unnoticing a smirking Nagela with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Duck and bacon, you say?" He shut up not understanding her.
" yeah, I must agree my wife's own surpasses. But this...?" He shakes his head.
"What d'ya think ya eatin'?" She asks unexpectedly.
"Duck and bacon, of course." He answers receiving a hum.
"How would ya feel if the duck drumsticks is frog legs and the bacon is marinated snake meat?"
"What?" The poor man asks horrified.
Nagela laughs diabolically." Rembourser est une salope!"
✴✴✴Albania✴✴✴
He waited patiently for her to return from her trip. She has some explanation to give. After being threatened by his boss of the newspaper agency he worked at, he went on to fulfill his duties on his schedule.
He shoved the celery in to the basket containing other vegetables. He was going to make stir Fry spaghetti. Gazing at the broccoli, he debated whether to add it to his items. It stared at him making him reminisce the first time he was served broccoli. He felt disgusted at it since it was all greenery and looked like a tree. He didn't like the savory one bit. Thus, he spat it on his father's shirt. He chuckled at the memory. His phone vibrated with a ring. It was his father.
"Hi dad, fancy you calling."
"Hello son, fancy you answering," A baritone voice spike at the other line. "You doing well?"
"Yeah, just a little moody"
"Why? What's got the famous man riled up?"
"Nothing much. My boss threatened to fire me for not complying to his rules and my Visa got revoked due to some bunch of idiots. Also, I wanna make stir Fry spaghetti with no broccoli but it keeps calling me and my girlfriend or maybe not deceived me." He pours his heart out.
"Wow, you've got the whole world problems on your shoulders."
"Thanks dad that was really helpful," He retorts, sarcastically. He began to arrange the the items he picked at the check point. "Anyway, how's your end?"
"Tiresome, Harlyn is being more difficult."
"Harlyn? I thought she is in Australia." He hands the cashier the desired amount of money as he singlehandedly tuck the fallen left ear piece in his ear.
"She was. Manny brought her here in Liverpool for 'vacation'. She's being difficult just like her mother." His voice turns heavy.
"I know. I have had my share of her. She waxed off my eyebrows once something which Chauncey taught her. I had to wait four months for it to grow back." He picks up the two packed grocery bags securing his phone in his orange shorts. He made his way out of the supermarket. "How's mom?"
Graham cringes at the other side of the line. "She's fine. I hope. On a vacation or business trip. I think."
"Wow, the irrevocable Graham doesn't know where his beloved wife is." He laughs.
"Laugh all you want. I called to check on you. It seems you are doing fine with the way you're speaking. Are your siblings doing good too?"
"Sorry, information based on them, I don't have. However I know they aren't freaked out. C'mon, whose children do you think we are?" He teases.
"Yeah I get it. Okay then, got to go. I have a class to lecture in five hours time. Harlyn cut it short for me. Bye."
"Bye, sleep tight. You'll need it." The music comes back on after the call.
He continues his trek back home to find his door opened. He drops the bags at the entrance going into defensive mode. He knew how to navigate through the darkness heading for the switch. The hairs at his neck straighten sensing the presence of the individual. He nudged the intruder so hard with his elbow when he touched his shoulder. The intruder wailed in pain on his carpet clutching the injured side.
D-Norris turned ready to give a kick if necessary. He was shocked when he found the woman he had been waiting for on the floor. He apologized profusely as he applied cold compression. The French Lady only glared hell at him. She groaned and grunted mumbling curses at him as she was lifted into the couch.
"For a wanted person, you have such weak security." She criticizes hiding her accent.
"For a cop, you have the attitude of a burglar, Juliette." D-Norris retorts.
"You are my slave till I recover."
"You wish!"
"Nice aim, by the way. Never knew you could hit like that in darkness." He doesn't respond. She stares st his figure slouched in the sofa nearby.
Silence takes over as the two wander in their thoughts.
"Why? Why did you lie to me? I'm I not good enough for you?" He asks unexpectedly. She doesn't respond.
"Answer me!" He sounded dejected.
"I don't know what to say." She found the ceiling interesting. Truly she didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected their goal to backfire. She never wanted him to find out. Guess good news was he had found out about her marriage.
"You went behind my back and told my mother about my siblings whereabouts and you are telling me-"
"Wait, what?" She stares at him dumbfounded.
"This isn't time for a rodeo, Juliette!"
"The fuck you going on about?" she cussed.
"No cussing!"
"You don't tell me what to do!" She snaps. " I didn't tell your mother anything! "
"Then how does she know we were in Maine? If you didn't, who did?" He yells.
"Have you ever checked your family?"
"There are no traitors in my family. You wouldn't understand since you don't have one!"
His words stunned her to the core. She expected him to help her come out of the sane marriage organised for her by her aunt. But she expected to much. This wasn't the man she loves. He was different. She fell for a wild guy but not an aggressive one.
Wincing in pain, she limped out of the house seeing him for the last time. D-Norris however soaked himself in a hot water bath shedding tears. It was Maheera's third death anniversary.