Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
I awoke to the late afternoon sun shining through my window and the rhythmic thudding of Keira’s sewing machine coming from the living room.
Alfie…
I could still feel his body encasing me, not suffocating like the python he used to be, but safe like an oak tree, warm and protective.
My fingers rested on my throat as I slept, stroking the place where the collar had been.
Alfie had removed it in the car and immediately I felt colder without it.
I missed it in a way I didn’t understand.
It wasn’t a kink. It was more than that.
It connected me to Alfie, marked me as his.
I missed it the same way I would miss a wedding ring.
I thought about the ring he’d offered me once, the bleeding heart diamond that sat silent in his time capsule room. Part of me missed the ignorance he’d kept me in back then. Facing the reality of his false promises had been a hell I didn’t wish on anyone. But everything was different now.
I stretched and sat up. My dress lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. I threw on sleep shorts and a t-shirt and went to find Keira.
She was at her work station in the living room, swearing at ruffled taffeta that apparently wasn’t cooperating with her.
“Hey.”
She looked up, her usual playfulness gone from her eyes. “Hey, yourself.” She turned back to her work, distracted or pissed at me I wasn’t sure.
“Keira, are we good? I’m really sorry I ditched you last night.”
“I’m a big girl, Lo. We’re fine.” She threw me a smile over her shoulder but I could sense something was off. “How was your night? Did Moneybags behave himself?”
“Yes, actually.” I moved to sit on the couch next to her work station. “We talked, we danced, he brought me home.”
“That’s it?” Her brows raised so high I thought they might fly off her forehead.
I just shrugged. Alfie had surprised me too.
She bit her lip, frowning as she turned back to her work.
“I hate that twisted prick,” she muttered.
I said nothing, no need to respond to something I already knew.
“But, you’ve been sleeping better since he came back.
” It was true. I was still having nightmares but there were far less of them since that first night I’d seen him again. “Please, just be smart.”
“Promise.” I nodded. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having my back.”
“Always,” she said as she expertly threaded a needle on her machine, “unless you’re being an idiot. Then I reserve the right to slap you upside the head.”
“Fair enough.” I laughed. “So, how did Maia cope last night?”
“I don’t really know, we split off pretty quickly. She seemed fine on our way home though. Quiet but that’s not unusual.”
“And you?” I asked. “How was your night?”
“Fine,” she answered, not meeting my eye.
“Fine? That’s it?” I pressed and she shrugged again, but I wasn't letting her get off that easy. “I saw Damien before I left, he said you were part hellcat.” I nudged her, waiting for the usual detailed play by play, but she didn’t even look up.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” She sounded distracted, a groove between her brows that I’d never seen there before.
“What? You always want to talk about your sexcapades!” I was about to let it drop when a horrible thought occurred to me. “Did he hurt you?”
“No! At least, not in any way I didn’t like.”
“So, why the vague?” Something wasn’t right here, Keira was a classic oversharer. I studied her face, my best friend antenna tingling. “You like him!”
Her warm brown eyes flashed up to me. “Fuck off, Lola. He’s an arrogant dick.”
“Right,” I grinned, “and what kind of idiot would fall for one of those?”
“Not this idiot.” Her tone was grim, a cynicism there I didn’t like. What was going on with her? Sure, Damien Marx was cocky, but so was Keira.
“Maybe he’s different when you get to know him.”
“Oh, I got to know him.” She pulled at the collar of her shirt, revealing an impressive love bite. “I got to know him really well.”
“You know what I mean. Maybe?—”
“I have to finish this costume.” She cut me off, her tone harsh.
It stunned me into silence. Keira had never snapped at me like that before, ever.
I guess we were definitely over her boundary line.
I came to a screeching halt and backed up a few paces onto safer ground.
There, behind her bolshy exterior, was a glimmer of fear.
I was getting too close, I guess Damien had gotten too close too.
Maybe there was more to her love of the wild, single life than she’d let on.
Whatever the reason, now wasn’t the time to explore it.
“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” I stood and began to retreat. I paused, wanting to try one last time to save the conversation by trying something right up her alley. “By the way, do you know what a Sybian is?”
Her head shot up. “Yes, but I’ve never been on one. Do you have something to tell me?” I grinned and jumped back on the couch, settling in to tell her every detail of my night at the notorious Never Tell Club.
It felt strange to sit at my desk on Monday morning, doing something as mundane as paperwork after what I’d experienced that weekend. I felt like I had this big secret.
I wondered about Alfie, about where he was, what he was doing. I didn’t know what the protocol was for this–was I supposed to call him? He hadn’t texted me last night–should I have expected him to? I tried to shake all thoughts of him away and focus on my work instead.
Working for Imani was easy, in fact, it only took up a few hours of my day.
I wondered if she’d known that when she hired me.
That she was giving me a full time wage for part time work.
By lunch I was already finished. I stood, pausing in the open doorway partitioning her workspace from mine.
She sat at her drafting table, working on her latest design.
I hated to disturb her, in fact, I’d much prefer to just sit back and watch the genius work.
I knocked lightly on the door frame. She dragged her eyes away from her work, looking up at me in a way that told me I only had ten percent of her attention, the rest was still firmly in her designs.
“Hey, I’m done for the day, unless you have anything else for me to do?”
“No, that’s fine.” She returned to her work, running her pencil lightly over the paper. “Will you be planning your showpiece this afternoon?”
“I’m going to try.” I turned, then paused. “Imani…you know I’m actually only working a few hours a day for you, right?”
She raised her brows at me. “Your point?”
“Well, I’m really not working enough to justify the full time wage you’re paying me…” I let my voice trail off, hoping she would fill in the blanks.
“I’m aware of that.”
“So, if you want to adjust my pay accordingly…”
“I don’t, but I appreciate the offer.” She turned back to her work. I hovered, watching her.
“You don’t really need an assistant, do you?”
She sighed before putting her pencil down and facing me. “I like having one and I presume you like having a job that will look good on your resume and allows you the flexibility to plan your project, no?”
“No…I mean, yes.”
“Good. Work enough hours to complete the tasks I set for you, besides that, focus on your project. I have expectations of you. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Thank you, I?—”
She waved me off before I could finish.“From the sighs of frustration you give out everyday I’m guessing that your plans are not going well.”
“No, I have some kind of block.”
“Show me what you have so far.”
I wanted to argue, I was embarrassed to show this accomplished woman my measly designs, but of course I returned dutifully to my desk and retrieved my sketchbook.
“I don’t have much. Just ideas, nothing solid.” I bit my thumbnail as she flipped through my designs. “What do you think?”
“I think they would be very impressive pieces for someone else.” She snapped the sketchbook shut and slid it across the desk to me, “I think you can do better. Make a statement. Make it exquisite. Make it memorable.”
“I’m trying. I keep going over the brief, which plants could work and then?—”
“You’re coming at it from the wrong angle,” she cut me off again, sitting back in her chair she took a sip of her chamomile tea.
“You need the concept first. The vision.
Then make the brief and the plants work for you .
You already know how to do this, Lola. What's the first thing I taught you about designing a statement piece?”
“Ask yourself what you want to say most, then create the vessel to act as your voice.”
“Exactly. I made the polar bear exhibit because I was angry about what we do to the environment. I still am. But it gives me comfort that everyday people see my message and maybe it makes some difference. I think your problem is that whatever you want to say the most, you’re too scared to say out loud and until you get past that, this,” she tapped my sketchbook, “is going to be meaningless.”
I wrapped my arms around my torso, one hand going to my mum’s necklace. Alfie. Alfie was my block and somewhere inside, I’d already known that. “What if I can’t get past it?”
“You have no choice. If you want this to mean something, you will have to confront your fear of speaking your truth.” She took another sip of her tea and shrugged.
“Or don’t.” She waved a pretty hand at me.
“Make a nice sculpture instead. Something lovely but forgettable. It’s up to you.
But remember this: what you make, it doesn’t have to be a compliment. It just has to be true.”
Imani’s words unlocked something inside me. It was as if she’d given me permission to express something I’d felt the need to hide. Feeling more confident, I packed up my things and walked out the door.
Over the last few years, the Arboretum at Kew Gardens had become one of my favourite places in the world.
The botanical tree garden was a stunning sight and home to a giant Redwood, which I'd discovered during my second semester was one of the best places for me to create.
I got myself situated with a coffee and my sketchbook but before I could let my imagination roam my phone rang, the caller ID switching me to high alert.
“Hi, Alfie.” I released my breath, determined as always to stay calm.
“Lola, I don’t have much time but I wanted to invite you to spend Saturday evening with me.”
I paused–was this a good idea? “To do what exactly?” My words were smothered by a strange sound from Alfie’s end of the call. “What's that noise?” I asked as the gentle whirring in the background grew louder.
“Helicopter. I’ll be gone for a few days, returning Saturday afternoon. I’m making arrangements for the evening and I’m hoping that you’ll join me.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“If you’re asking if I’ll blow your house down if you don’t agree to come, the answer is no.” He did his best to sound calm but I could hear the frustration in his voice. Whether that frustration was with himself for causing my distrust or with me for reminding him of it, I didn’t know.
“Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.” Should I say yes? Probably not. But, I’d promised him three months and I didn’t intend to back out of that deal.
“What should I wear?”
“I’d like you to wear the pale blue dress you had on the first time we saw each other again, but as part of my personal growth I have to tell you that it’s your choice and I respect your decisions.”
I sat there in silence. Everytime I thought I’d gotten used to how much Alfie had changed, he delivered a whole new layer of development. “So, that’s it? You’re just not going to try to control me anymore? Really?”
“That’s the idea. No more toxic fights over my manipulative behaviours.”
“Huh. So, what are we going to do for fun now?” Alfie choked on a laugh and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “I’ll see you Saturday. Have a safe trip.”