Chevelle Sealim-Brown was smiling widely as she stepped out of the Tesla Model Y and onto the Southern California soil. The modern white house she had recently purchased in Latina Beach stared back at her. The air was humid and smelt of salt water and sand. With a loud exhale, she dropped her shoulders and walked into her new home. Despite her excitement, Chevelle was exhausted after driving all day from Oregon to California. Collapsing onto her new bed she snuggled into the sheets, her eyes fluttering shut.
When she awoke again, it was due to a constant shrill sound. Mumbling incoherently she harshly slapped her hand around the bed looking for the source. It was her mother, no doubt calling in a panic since Chevelle had failed to let her parents know she had indeed made it safely to California. Cursing, she put the phone to her ear and flinched at her mothers harsh tone. "Yes I know Mommy, I'm sorry." She muttered half into the pillow. "Where's Daddy?" There was some fumbling in the background and then she heard her fathers deep baritone voice. They talked for a few moments longer and then ended the call with the typical, 'I love yous.'
The house was eerily silent, something she wasn't used to with two older siblings and politicians for parents. Maybe I should get a pet, she wondered to herself. Fishing through the pantry she found a box of instant noodles. They were quick to make, even when she added egg mixture and a sweet and spicy sauce. She grew up on spices, her mothers parents from Korea and her fathers from Jamaica. Turning the burner off she grabbed a bowl and sat down on the couch, with the noodles steaming in her face. The tv was on, but she wasn't paying attention, her mind too occupied with thoughts of her job.
At the age of 14, Chevelle was diagnosed with stage two leukemia. It was also around the same time that her love and obsession with YouTube was at its peak. To lift her spirits, but mainly to keep her foreign family members in the now, Chevelle created her own YouTube channel. By the time she was 18, she managed to gain 5 million, and now as a 21-year-old she had over 10 million.
Blowing a raspberry, she pulled out a phone and sent her manager a text. They were best of friends, Jeremy not much older than Chevelle. The phone beside her rang, and Chevelle let out a sigh. "You know I hate texting," was the first thing Jeremy said when she put the phone to her ear.
"My apologies good sir," she said sarcastically. "How are you?"
His New York accent was thick as he ranted about how his husband, Samuel, was out of town on a business trip and their babysitter forgot to pick up their kids from school for the second time this week—so now he was on his way to pick them up. "Anyways, why'd you call?" Jeremy swore loudly, his car horn filling her ears.
"Should I do a house tour?" Her grown out acrylics picked at the loose thread on her cardigan.
"You moved?"
Chevelle scoffed. "Remember, I bought an apartment in Los Angeles, and then found out later that it was really unsafe?"
Jeremey grunted in understanding his memory somewhat jogged.
"Well, I had already sold my house in New York so I found a nice but surprisingly cheap house for a sale until renovations were done in LA."
"I'm confused, are you living in Laguna Beach or in LA?"
"Laguna Beach. I bought the house and then fell in love with it and decided I would just put my apartment up for rent."
"Oh right—you're wondering if it's safe to do a tour of the house you're in right now?"
Chevelle hummed.
"I don't know Chevelle," he sighed. "I like the idea, but you live alone and your father is running for President."
Chevelle sunk further into the couch and exhaled harshly through her nose, almost like a dragon. "I don't know why that spaced my mind, but it did." In the background she could hear the car door open and then the sound of high pitched voices filled the car. "Alright, we'll talk later Jer." Hanging up the phone, she turned her attention back to Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
Sliding down in the bathtub, Chevelle let her thick auburn hair pool around her in the eucalyptus scented water. River by Leon Bridges was the only thing her ears could pick up on. She stayed in the water until it began to run cold and her fingers were turning into prunes. Her toes wiggled around when she hit the white fluffy bath rug, the soft hairs tickling her feet. Chevelle's slipped clad feet made shuffling sounds against the tiled floor as she slid a robe onto her body and a towel over her hair. The steaming cup of lemon honey tea she had made sat perfectly perched on the sink.
Flopping onto the bed, she picked up her book and began reading, her circular reading glasses almost falling off her nose as she looked down. The night alarm on her phone went off, reminding her sleep is a good thing, and she shut the book. The light clicked off, and she fell back onto her pillow, her seemingly dry hair framing her face as her eyes fluttered shut.
&
The city was busy, people brushing up against Chevelle as she walked through the streets of Los Angeles. The air smelled of old urine and rotting cells, nothing like the salt water she was used to. Her big brown eyes darted around the City of Angels. It was surprisingly cold for Southern California, the air hurt her bones but her white sweatsuit and black leather jacket kept her warm. Despite the cold, she was still sipping a cold drink, the coffee, milk, and caramel mixture exploding on her taste buds. Ding! the door chimed and the few women looked up at her and smiled. Chevelle smiled back.
"Hi welcome in." The lady spoke with an accent—one that Chevelle knew all too well because the one was from Korea.
"Hi," she responded in Korean. They appeared shocked, but everyone was when she looked more Jamaican than Korean. "Do you have space for a walk in?"
The nail tech nodded eagerly, her smile wide and her teeth kind of crooked. "Come in, come, come. Acrylic?" She pointed to the pale pink nails Chevelle adorned.
"Yes, do you think I can schedule an appointment every two weeks here at the same time? My name is Chevelle, what's yours?"
The nail tech nodded again and dragged Chevelle by the hand to a chair. "I'm Cho, that's Aera, and Bong-Cha in the back."
By the time Chevelle's nails were done, she adorned a soft olive green. Waving goodbye to the technicians she walked out and joined the mass of locals and tourists. Bags upon bags were loading down her arms by the time she got to her car. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she banged her hands against the steering wheel. She was exhausted, the first night in the new house by herself made it hard for her to sleep well. The fear of a random squatter scaring her in the night looming over her like a dark cloud.
"Where are you right now?" Jeremy's voice sounded through the car. He was never one for proper greetings, always choosing to get straight to the point.
"Nearing Huntington Beach, why?"
"Come over, I have something for you."
Chevelle grumbled. "No, I'm tired."
"Did I ask?"
"No," she muttered under her breath. "Fine, I'm coming." Ending the call, Chevelle made a right turn and drove to Jeremey's house. Unlocking his front door with the key had gifted her a few months ago, Chevelle looked around the dark foyer. "Jeremey?"
"I'm in the living room babe!"
Her heels clicked on the wood floor as she walked towards the living room she had spent many holidays in. "What's so urgent?"
Jeremey looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled. "I would hug you but my arms are full."
Her brown eyes drifted to his arms and then widened. "Is that a Doberman puppy? I thought Samuel was allergic to dogs."
"He is," Jeremey nodded. "It's not for us, it's for you. I thought you might need a friend while you're all alone in that big house."
Chevelle felt tears pooling in the bottom of her eyes. "Really?"
Jeremey nodded once again. "He's a rescue, his name is Saint."