12
Nina
After Adrian and Ireturned to the house, I’d opted to lie down for a short nap, tired from the lack of sleep. First from the preparation for the party. Then from the past few nights spent talking into the wee hours with Adrian.
I stumbled into my cozy living room of muted browns, orange cushions, and off-white walls adorned with painted scenes of Nassau. I’d fallen in love with this room. The whole apartment in fact. I lived here because it was a requirement of the job. I had to be available twenty-four seven, Chef Dominique had informed me on the first day. We were on call like a doctor for at any moment any one of Watson-Williams family could show up and demand to be fed a meal and dessert. The life of rich folks with money to burn.
Before I slumped into my favorite chair I noticed a white strip of paper on the floor next to the door. I rose to pick it up. It was a note.
Adrian has gone back to New York. Without you. Hahaha.
Cold fingers dipped into my heart and turned the switch to heavy and sluggish. I couldn’t breathe. The sour taste of dread rose in my mouth and caused an acute ache in the back of my throat. On shaky limbs, I made my way back to the love seat. Our love seat.
I sat down and clutched the note. I read it one more time. Then I crushed it into the smallest ball of paper ever and threw it to the other side of the room. I wished I could unsee the note.
Why had Adrian left without saying goodbye?
Who would’ve pushed the note under my door with a cruel hahaha on it?
I had only been here a few weeks. I hardly knew the other staff. Most of my interactions had been limited to Chef Dominique and Lizette, the house manager.
Could it be one of them? I remembered their comments and faces on Blue Lagoon earlier. It was time for my reinforcements.
I opened WhatsApp and tapped the group chat “girls for world domination.”
Nina: Hey tweenies. I need you two, now.
Nicole: What part of the sky is falling?
Nina: You know me too well.
Nellie: I’m here.
Nicole: It’s not a party. The sky is falling over Nina.
Nina: He’s left.
Nicole: Who?
Nellie: You know who, Nicole. Come on.
Nicole: Just pulling your legs. Thought he was staying the week.
Nina: Do you think he went back to New York.
Nicole: Why would he?
Nellie: Does he have a girlfriend?
Nina: He said he doesn’t.
Nicole: And you believed him.
Nina: Look, his parents gave him a deadline to find a wife and part of the reason for the party on Saturday was for him to choose from the perfect women who were selected by a professional matchmaker.
Nellie: Are you serious Nina? Sounds like eighteenth, nineteenth-century stuff.
Nicole: I think he has found his wife. His princess. He is into you.
Nina: He is gone, Nicole.
Nicole: There could be a hundred reasons. Stop speculating. Call him. Message him. FaceTime him. Do something. But don’t speculate.
Nellie: My sister sounds like one of those fake positive influencers.
Nina: Like all those fake positive folks on YouTube.
Nicole: Focus Nina. Focus. Get off this chat and go call your future prince.
Nina: It’s not like that, Nicole.
Nellie: A rich white guy attended our party at our apartment in Cable Beach, eating conch fritters, crack conch, and chicken souse for the first time and he’s not into you? Take my word. He’s into you.
Nicole: Exactly. You’ll be the next Mrs. Watkins-Williams, Nina. Get ready, get ready, get ready. Girlllllll.
My body was still in recovery mode from the shock of Adrian’s sudden departure. But the interaction with my cousins caused my lips and my cheeks to expand into a hesitant smile. The crazy messages my cousins were posting in our chat served to lift my hope by a millimeter.
Rap, rap, rap on my door punctuated the silence.
Nina: Girls, I have to go. There’s someone at my door. I will check in later. Bye.
I walked to the door and opened it to be confronted by Chef Dominique with blazing eyes and a half smile.
Was this the author of the note?
“Chef Dominique, what brings you by at this hour?”
“I tried to warn you,” he said, with grave concern.
“Warn me of what?” I stiffened in alarm.
“You didn’t listen. I told you to stay away from the trust-fund boy. You thought you would be welcomed by the family. You thought you could pass. Guess what.”
“I am sure I don’t have to guess,” I said, placing my hands on my hips, spreading my legs apart. The island warrior stance. “You are about to tell me.”
“I just heard from her royal highness, Judge Courtney. She’s directed me to inform you of your immediate dismissal. You have until Friday to vacate the premises.” His voice filled with sympathy and empathy.
“What?! Fired? I have never been fired in my life,” I shouted, pulling back from him. “Are you sure?” He stepped closer, touched my arm and continued. “You will receive your severance package, and remember the non-disclosure clause in your contract.”
“How can she fire me?! What have I done?” I cried out, shaking my head in denial.
“You could try calling the summoned prince,” he said. “But I doubt they’d allow him to come.” He regarded me for a moment, his eyes brimming with care. Shoulders slumped, he turned and walked away.
I rocked in place, rubbing my hands along my crossed arms, watching his retreating form. This time the dread dropped into my stomach like the ball dropping at midnight in New York. I clutched the phone in my hand for comfort. I chewed on my inner cheeks. I turned on trembling legs to make it back to the love seat. Why had I ever thought of opening up my heart?
People always leave.
****
I squeezed the phoneharder. I was sure my inside cheek was bloody. I curled my knuckle against my mouth to add pressure.
I’d clutched my phone so tightly, my fingers cramped with pain and it took me a moment to realize my phone had started buzzing.
“Adrian.”
I answered without a thought. “Adrian. Thank God. You called. I’m about to go crazy here.” I cried out in pain, pacing the floor like a caged tiger, unable to be still.
“What is it, Nina?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Chef Dominique just told me I’m fired.”
“But Chef Dominique has no authority.”
“It was your mother. Your mother ordered him to fire me—or inform me of my dismissal was how he reported it.”
“That’s new. My mother, a coward,” he whimpered.
“And then you left without a word to me.”
“I am sorry, Nina. I got ordered back to New York and I ran back like a little boy.”
“Why were you ordered back?”
“The sky was falling.”
“I have no time for humor now, Mr. Watkins-Williams. I have to pack and be out of here on Friday and today is Wednesday.”
“Stay put, Nina. Don’t pack. Don’t do anything. Don’t leave. I’m going to confront my mother and ask her to recall her decision.”
I laughed with nervous energy, the dread in my stomach not easing.
“Nina. Please don’t do anything. I am on my way to see you.”
I laughed harder this time and disconnected the call.
Will you, Adrian Watkins-Williams the fourth, get your mother to change her mind?