CHAPTER 8
”At last, we”ve arrived! I couldn”t stand another minute in that car,” Victoria declares, storming into the house like a whirlwind, destined to share this space with the erotica writer for what seems an eternity.
Micaela rolls her eyes, her heart sinking. Living with Victoria is going to be a challenge. Yet, she won”t admit it aloud, but she desperately needs to break through her crippling writer’s block. It”s shocking, really; months ago, she could whip up scenes on her phone while standing in supermarket lines.
”I can”t believe this! I”m going to kill Javier,” Victoria”s howl cuts through the house like a knife, her voice thick with fury.
”What now? Can”t you ever stop complaining?” Micaela asks, approaching her. A sudden laugh escapes her when she sees Victoria”s furious face smeared with a streak of grease.
”There”s only one bedroom,” Victoria snaps, irritation deepening at Micaela”s smug smile.
”You”ve got to be kidding me,” Micaela”s smile drops into a look of horror. ”We”ll have to flip a coin for it.”
”What are you talking about?” Victoria balks, incredulous at such a ludicrous solution.
”Come on, give me a coin. I don”t have any. People your age always carry cash,” Micaela teases, her words making Victoria”s cheeks flame with anger. ”Winner gets the bedroom, loser sleeps on the couch.”
”You really have a wild imagination, too bad you don”t use it to bring your stories to life,” Victoria retorts sharply, her words barbed and merciless. ”Anyway, you should be the one on the couch. You”re the one who got us into this nowhere place. And as you love to point out—I”m older and need a proper rest.”
Micaela watches, dumbfounded, as Victoria opens her suitcase and spreads her clothes across the bed. Selecting a few items, she passes Micaela, presumably heading for what must be the bathroom for a shower. There”s no way Micaela is sleeping on the couch; the bed is huge, plenty of room for both of them. So, she does what her counterpart does—starts unpacking her suitcase, needing to organize her clothes and personal items. Just the thought of leaving things in her luggage for days gives her the chills; she admits to having some peculiar quirks.
”What are you up to?” Victoria asks as she strides into the room, her figure clad in slate-gray attire, a towel turbaned around her wet hair. Her eyebrows lift in surprise when she notices that Micaela has already filled half the closet, her clothes arranged meticulously by color.
”There”s plenty of room for both of us in this bed,” Micaela responds calmly, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she surveys her neatly organized side of the wardrobe. ”The mattress feels heavenly soft—perfect for a good night”s sleep for both of us.”
”Look at you, all confident and poised,” Victoria retorts with a scowl.
”Right?” Micaela chuckles, playfully twisting Victoria”s words. ”I know you find me charming, even if you won”t admit it.” Her laughter fills the room, adding a lightness that contrasts sharply with Victoria”s frowning demeanor.
Victoria decides to ignore her, sensing that engaging further would only prolong an endless cycle of banter. Micaela always seems to have a witty comeback, and for Victoria, it feels as draining as arguing with her son during his teenage years. Meanwhile, the writer from Toledo pulls out the rest of her belongings from her suitcase and starts stuffing them into the remaining empty space in the closet. Micaela shudders as she watches Victoria shove clothes into the shelves carelessly.
”I”m going to start on dinner. I hope you don”t have any allergies,” Micaela comments, slipping out of the room before Victoria can reply.
In the kitchen, Micaela opens the refrigerator and smiles, pleased to see it fully stocked with high-quality ingredients. She won”t be wanting for anything here.
”I usually eat light, so don”t whip up anything heavy,” Victoria suddenly says, appearing so quietly that Micaela, who is half inside the fridge, jumps and bangs her head.
”Damn, for someone who complains as much as you do, you could at least make some noise when you walk,” Micaela grumbles, rubbing the back of her neck.
Victoria turns away, ignoring Micaela”s grumbling, and settles at a table in the corner of the vast kitchen. She puts on her reading glasses and opens her laptop to check her emails. Micaela watches her for a moment, then quickly turns back to the fridge. She wants to get dinner ready and head to bed. The tension between them crackles, a mix of annoyance and a curious undercurrent of respect—a complicated dance of personalities that promises to unfold intriguingly as the night progresses.