Chapter 3 #2
After being blindsided by Tieran’s presence, my friendly chat with Chapman, and a day’s worth of meetings between the team and my personal brands back in LA, I need to cleanse this day from my psyche and find time to eat before my call with the head of production for Jaded the Label, the clothing sector of my brand.
I’ve just made it to the landing outside my new home when the door opposite my flat flies off its hinges, and a beautiful young woman with brown skin, rich mahogany eyes, and dark curly hair that fades into a deep caramel steps out.
She pays me no mind as she reaches back into her home and drags a man over the threshold by the chain around his neck, giving him a push towards the stairs.
“You and your furry fetish have got to go. I do kink shame, and I will not tell you for a third time that I’m not putting on an animal mask. I’m claustrophobic.”
The man turns to her, an idea igniting in his eyes. “What if you just wear the tail and mittens, no mask?”
My neighbor’s eye twitches involuntarily. “Goodbye!”
I search for my keys so I can scurry into my place and away from whatever is happening out here, but I don’t find them in time.
“Men, am I right?” She huffs out a laugh.
I nod, giving her a disinterested smile. I am trying to get in bed, not make idle chit chat with someone I don’t know. Or anyone, really.
“I’m Aanya. You must be my new neighbor.
I’ve gotta say, you already look leagues better than the last guy.
I was starting to think I might need to call the letting agent, because I thought he could have died.
” My body reacts with mild horror at the prospect of living in the abandoned flat of a deceased person.
“But next thing I knew, he was moving out, and my problems were solved.” Her voice is too chipper for this conversation.
“Jade. Relieved to know I won’t have to worry about the spectral ghost of tenants past. And that the smell stuck to the carpet isn’t one of decay. If you’ll excuse me…” I move to go inside my place, ready to leave this conversation and the rest of the day behind me.
“You look like you could use a glass of wine. Let me go get a bottle!”
“Oh, no, really, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose.” If I think she’ll take the hint for what it is—rejection—then she doesn’t let on and is totally undeterred.
“It’s no problem. I’ll be right back.” I can’t even argue before she’s left and returned with a bottle in hand. “Alright, let’s go. There’s girl talk to be had.”
The energy to fight an overly chatty neighbor who’s unable to read between the lines is nonexistent. And admittedly, a glass of wine does sound nice after the day I’ve endured. Surely, I can hold on to my sanity for another fifteen minutes.
Unlocking my door and stepping inside, I usher her over the threshold and flick on the light.
“Fucking hell.” My body jolts at the sudden exclamation, and I look over at Aanya, who is taking in the state of my flat with horror on her face. “What the hell happened in here?”
Her cinnamon eyes bounce between the water damage that’s growing mold, peeling wallpaper, decades old carpet, and the errant roach skittering about.
I shift into the kitchen to scour for a bottle opener. “I rented the place sight unseen, and the landlord neglected to tell me the pictures on the listing were not entirely accurate.”
“Who rents a place sight unseen?” Her tone is jovial, but my hackles rise at the reproach.
I am not the type of person who jumps into things lightly. I think through my decisions, weigh lists of pros and cons, and run it past a team of advisors. My residence being a disaster is not something I am coping with well, and the reminder I’ve also fucked this up grates.
“Someone whose assistant was handling the leasing and neglected to inform her when the original flat fell through before said assistant was found in bed with someone’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, fuck.” Aanya’s mouth drops open at my admission.
“Yeah.” I huff out a derisive breath. “I lost my assistant and got saddled with an expensive flat that needs to be fumigated. I’m having a great time.”
Aanya steps into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle opener from my hands. “Grab some glasses.”
Doing as she says, we pour two generous helpings of wine and move into the living room to sit on the makeshift couch made up of a few throw pillows and blankets.
“I’m assuming you sacked your assistant?”
“Most definitely. I can’t have someone I don’t trust around me that much.”
“And the boyfriend?” she asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“Haven’t spared him a second thought.” Detachment peppers my tone.
“Not together long?”
“Three years, actually.” I fidget.
“You don’t seem too out of sorts about it, or him,” she observes. She also seems to not care that this is probably too personal a conversation for the first time we’ve ever met.
I take a long pull of my drink. “To be honest, I don’t think I ever felt much for him. I was always too busy with work, and he was just…convenient.”
“Harsh,” she remarks lightly, but something pangs in my chest as a memory resurfaces.
“All you care about is work, Jade. Does it even matter to you that I would cheat?”
“I don’t value disloyalty.”
Brendan scoffs. “This is what I mean. It’s like I’m talking to a robot, you’re so unfeeling.”
“What do you do?” Aanya asks, bringing me back to the present.
I suppress a flinch. This career has given me a lot, but it’s also cost me everything. Life, friendships, relationships, time with my dad I’ll never get back. Making friends and keeping them has been impossible when everyone proves to be a snake in the grass.
“The answer to that particular question is a bit loaded.” I readjust my body so my feet are tucked beneath me on the pillow couch.
“Well, I sent the beast fucker packing, so it’s safe to say my evening’s opened up.” She says it so candidly, I snort out a laugh into my wine glass.
“I wear a lot of hats. CEO of several large lifestyle brands, but most recently, I became the majority shareholder of The Legends.” My neighbor’s mouth drops at the first job title, but on the last, her jaw practically unhinges.
“The rugby team?” Her voice holds both shock and admiration.
“The one and only.”
“Holy shit. And you said several brands, as in more than one?”
I nod my head in confirmation, and she cocks her head to the side, studying me.
“Well damn. Color me impressed. My new best friend is a badass.”
I flush at the familiarity, at the ease with which she befriends me, and I resent that it makes me instantly skeptical of her.
When I lived in Los Angeles, friends were hard to come by.
I made some in my early years, typically other creators I met through collaborations or brand events, but I quickly realized those friendships were usually serving one side of the relationship, and it was never to my benefit.
I wanted companionship with the only people I thought could understand me, but they wanted the advantage of my following.
I eventually stopped trying to make friends altogether, preferring people believe I was stuck up, than to trust the wrong person and be let down again.
The irony of my brand being named Jaded is not lost on me.
“Like I said, I’m busy. Too busy to figure out the mess of this flat or to ream the landlord for pulling a bait and switch. I’ve only managed to get a couple things booked for a home reno.” The taste of my beverage goes sour on my tongue.
“I can help you with that!” Aanya is beaming ear to ear, full, rose petal lips stretched wide.
Confusion must be written clear across my face, because she clarifies, “I’ve got a really bizarre work schedule, and I’m bored a lot during the day.
I can be your interim assistant, get your flat sorted while you’re out conquering the world. ”
“Why would you do that? You hardly know me.”
The stare she gives me is gentle, and it makes me uncomfortable.
I readjust my legs, pick at invisible lint on my pants—anything but look at her while she’s looking at me like I’m some wounded kitten.
“I’ve got a feeling about you.” I look up then, and a sly smirk quirks the corner of her mouth.
“Plus, you’re going to pay me, of course. ”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of my mouth, slipping past my defenses.
A refusal is on the tip of my tongue, a desperate need to do everything on my own rising to the forefront of my mind.
But suddenly, a roach skitters across the stained carpet in front of me, and the vehement need for a clean apartment, or maybe even for a friend, has me agreeing at a speed that shocks me.
“Name your rates.”