Constance had begun to act up again. The car kept spluttering like a dying horse and making suspiciously weird noises since Laila left the hospital. Now that she thought about it, the car had yet to make her usual bimonthly visit to Joe's mechanical workshop, and her last one was more than a fortnight ago. The whole issue with Xavier kept her mind quite occupied, making her forget other important things.
Laila ran her short round unmanicured nails through her waist length goddess braids and cracked her neck twice, trying to release tension, before pulling into the overly small parking lot of the apartment building in which she lived alongside her brother and her Turkish Angora, Glarey.
She first came across the white haired feline about a year ago when he was still a palm sized kitten. The poor thing had been abandoned by some evildoer in the cold and when she came out to take out the trash at night in the rain, she had heard a tiny, almost unnoticeable mewl. She looked below and noticed the shivering drenched cat who had then walked up to her to rub against her legs, seeking warmth.
Laila, after dumping the trash, had picked up the adorable golden eyed kit and taken it inside with her, fed it some warm milk and gave it a warm bath for which she almost lost one of her eyes due to the felines intense distaste for anything water related. And when few days later, she called the shelter which, as it turned out, had no available space, she decided it was a sign and officially welcomed the feline which she named Glarey because of the intense way in which he glared at people or other animals he was suspicious about or didn't approve of.
On getting out of the elevator on the fifth floor of the building, Laila walked past her neighbour's apartment, Mark, a jujitsu teacher in his mid forties, who shared the floor with her, alongside three other tenants, one of whom she was yet to meet.
Her apartment door was unlocked.
Laila took in a deep breath, and with fists clenched in anxiety, her mind a flash of images filled with the haunting memories of something she'd not quite gotten over since that incident when she was still a big name in the entertainment industry. Palms tightly holding on to her pepper spray, she treaded into the living room wearily. But instead of the intruder she expected to meet inside the two bedroom apartment, lying on the sofa, long jean cladded legs spread out and swinging to an unknown tune, while scrolling through her phone,was Chelsea; her PA, agent, self appointed BFF, unlicensed therapist and personal motivator.
"Really, Chel? Leaving the door open, even after I spoke to you about it time and time again?" Laila chided the redhead and then put the spray into her bag while sighing quietly in relief.
Chelsea stood up from the couch while blinking carefully and let out a guilty laugh, "I just knew you'd be at the door soon enough when I came in about ten minutes ago. That's why I left it open for you, my love."
Laila face palmed, almost rendered speechless at the overly apparent lie.
"First off, I absolutely feel like chucking you out that window at this very moment," she pointed to the french windows which led to the balcony on the right side of the room.
"Secondly," she continued while her deep brown eyes surveyed what she could see of the small apartment, "Where's he who must not be named?"
The tall redhead, grateful for being let of the hook, pulled her friend into a hug and then gave her a peck on both cheeks. "He who must not be named?" She asked, brows raised in mild confusion.
"Oh, would you prefer I refer to him as your best friend?" Laila raised her own brows in reply.
Chelsea, upon realisation of who her friend was referring to, scrunched up her porcelain smooth face in consternation and shuddered. "If you mean that evil cat of yours, who, I'm pretty sure, spends most of his waking hours planning world kitty domination, then I haven't seen him or even dared go look for him since I came in here. Just been here, in the living room, scrolling through Insta. Also, I don't have a death wish, ma'am."
As if on cue, the subject of discussion walked majestically into the room and rubbed himself against his owner's trousers while glaring hard at his mortal enemy, Chelsea. The grown woman, in turn, glared back at the cat and let out what suspiciously sounded like a "humph". The cat, still clinging to Laila, turned back on his little paws, using his furry butt to face the other woman, clearly refusing to engage in battle with her, for now, at least.
Laila, flabbergasted at the mini melodrama going on between both animal and human, shook her head and picked up the heavy cat, while stroking his beautiful white fur. She then went to sit in the couch which Chelsea just deserted.
Her friend grumbled like a tsundere, "Laila, don't judge. You know this wicked creature clearly never liked me in the first place. Gosh, he doesn't even put me in his eyes. Me, a 5foot 9 woman who can be considered a giant in his dwarfed feline eyes."
"Not today, Satan. Sorry. I mean, Chelsea," Laila said, kicking off her shoes and adjusting, cat still in her arms, to rest both feet on the couch.
"Argh! That clearly wasn't a mistake, Lai. Satan and Chelsea don't even sound alike at all in the first place," her friend grumbled, coming to join her on the sofa.
Laila shrugged, smiled and then changed the topic,"Anyway, guess who I met today at the hospital."
"Who?" Her friend perked up, looking eager for the gist she could sense was coming.
"The queen of blue bloods herself, Amber Smithson."
"Bitch, who?" The redhead backed up dramatically, "How delightful that must have been for you," she said, sarcasm lacing her every word.
Laila chuckled and put down the dozing feline who gave a meow of complaint, before stretching her arms while trying to fight off a yawn. "Funny thing was I almost didn't recognize her. Girl definitely had a surgery since the last time I saw her. Damn, she looked like a plastic doll trying really hard, and obviously failing, to show expressions on her face."
"Hol' up," Chelsea exclaimed, arms raised in the air and her plans widened. "Wait. Did you just say the Smithson chick, that green tea bitch, had a surgery? WTF? Now that I remember, Steph mentioned this to me in passing, once. But I'd been so swamped then, I forgot to ask about it later on. Oh my gosh. How come this didn't make the gossip tabloids since?"
Laila laughed. "Money. She comes from money, so obviously her family has the power to shut the story. Oh, and also, she invited me to a party tonight at some fancy mansion owned by her husband."
Her friend sat up, "Wait, I heard she was married to the second son of some really rich family. Mcdumont or something like that. Old money shit. But wait what time is this party?"
"8pm or so. Why?" Laila asked, unconcern obvious on her face.
"8pm?!" Her friend shouted, green eyes widened comically. "The time's already past six, bitch. You've got less than an hour to get ready."
Laila blinked rapidly,a frown marring her pretty features, "I kinda actually don't want to go," she spoke in a small voice, while looking down at her feet, searching for something that clearly wasn't there.
Chelsea shot up somewhat gracefully from the couch, her straight scarlet waist length hair swinging as she stood. She held Laila by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, forest green clashing against deep brown.
"Look, L. First off, before being your agent or PA or whatever label it is people place on it, I'm your friend, your closest friend, nevermind that foolish Lee who thinks he can compete with me for that position," she said, badmouthing their Chinese childhood friend of since kindergarten whom Chelsea liked to personally pick on when they were still kids.
Laila was almost touched, by her friend's statement. But then, backed up when the other woman mentioned the Lee part.
"Really, dude? You just had to. Even up until now, I never quite understood the rivalry that's been going on between Lee and you ever since we were kids."
The redhead pouted and complained in a childish tone, "Her majesty obviously would never understand whatever goes on in her glorified harem,"
And then, ignoring Laila's subsequent eye roll, she continued on as though she had never been interrupted in the first place, "And as your friend of more than a decade, I can very much deduce a lot of things about you. And I do know, for a fact, that you still love to act, even after leaving the industry, babe. Also, painful as it is for me to say, this party Amber's throwing could very well provide you with someone, a director, perhaps, willing to cast you in a movie or even a show. And much as I hate that pretentious skank, Amber, you gotta admit that she throws some of the best parties, with a very high profile guest list."
Laila groaned in exasperation while her friend continued on, "And, who knows? You might even bag yourself one of those rich as fuck blue blooded dudes," she chuckled, "God knows you need some action. I've never even seen you close to a guy in like, what? Decades now?"
Laila pursed her lips and gave her friend the stink eye, "I'm not some sister in a convent, you know. And also, whatever. Fine. Yes, I'll go to the party. The witch even sorta threatened to cast me out to everyone in the circle if I didn't show up tonight."
"Bitch did what?" Her friend almost blew up.
Laila tried to pacify her, "It's nothing serious. We'll talk about it while you do my makeup."
"Alright," Chelsea exclaimed, "Let's get you dressed then," she said while pulling Laila towards the master bedroom with the cat trailing closely behind both women, curiously wondering what evil acts the vile redhead wanted to perform on his shit shoveler