Chapter 8
Calvin
“God, this place smells awful,” I mutter, following closely behind Nikita as we enter her apartment. Her severely damaged apartment. Even the carpet beneath my shoes is still soaking with water, making a sloshing sound as we walk. “Surely everything here will need to be replaced?”
“I really hope not,” she tosses over her shoulder. “I’m optimistic that some of my things dodged the damage.”
“Optimistic or delusional?”
“Is there a difference?”
I follow closely behind her as we enter what I assume to be her bedroom. The wall is filled with pictures haphazardly hanging throughout, the unmade bed, and the loose clothes hanging over a chair in the corner confirm it. She makes her way over to the other side, stopping in front of a set of white drawers.
“Have you had the damage assessed yet?” I ask, leaning against the door frame.
“The landlord is sorting all that out,” she replies, rummaging through her top drawer, pieces of material flinging from one side of the drawer to the other. “I thought you were going to wait in the car?”
“And risk having you forget about me waiting for you? No thanks. I told you I have somewhere to be after this.”
She scoffs, and even though I can’t see, I will bet anything that she is rolling her eyes. Something I seem to get out of her whenever we interact.
Walking over to her bed, she leans down and presses one of her hands against it. “Fuck, it’s wet,” she groans and turns towards me, “Of course, it’s wet.”
“Why are we here again?” I ask as she walks over, stopping in front of me with the material pieces in her arms.
“We are here, Calvin, because none of the clothes I have at my brother’s place will work for this holiday I am now going on,” she dumps the pieces of material in my arms in spite of my complete protest. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t bring a bag with me an-.”
“You knew you were coming to collect things, but you brought no means to carry them with you?”
“I brought you.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this invention, but there is a product out there in which it’s possible to carry other things in. It makes it easier to move things from one place to another.”
Her eyes narrow, “Are you being sarcastic?”
“What do you think, princess?”
She folds her arms across her chest, “Why do you call me that?”
“What?”
“Princess.”
Disinterest washes over my face, “You act like you’re the princess of the land.”
“I do not,” she argues back.
“A very reckless, very boisterous, princess.”
She lifts her hand and pokes me in the chest. “That’s enough from you, Princess Pretentious.” Unexpectedly, my lips twitch with amusement, not only at her words but at how she continues to glare up at me. Nikita is an incredibly expressive person. Her face is a dead giveaway for exactly what she feels and right now, there is no mistaking her irritation with me.
“You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
This time I burst out laughing which only earns me a shove from her and an eye roll following closely after. I catch a couple of the pieces of material before they leave my arms and pay closer attention to them for the first time, quickly realizing that I’m holding what looks like her underwear. “You’re seriously making me hold your underwear?” I hold them out for her, but she already has her back towards me, walking over to a set of cupboard doors.
“First of all, that’s not my underwear, those are bikinis. I take it, you know what those are?” She slides open the door and starts to look through whatever is hanging up. “And secondly, grow up. It’s just material, you weirdo.”
This time I roll my eyes. “I’m the weirdo for not wanting to hold your most intimate pieces of clothing?”
“Most intimate pieces of clothing,” she mimics, before looking at me, with a perplexed facial expression. “Who speaks like that? You’re a strange one.” She returns her attention to the current task at hand. “If you must know, good sir, there are far more intimate pieces of clothing in here than that which you are holding.” She speaks as if she is attempting a posh English accent in a voice with a higher tone.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Me? Never.” She pulls out a long blue dress that is on the hanger. “What’s the dress code for the wedding?”
“It’s a wedding, so I think that answers your question.”
“It’s also a seven-day celebration, so I think it’s safe to say that they’re doing things a little differently.”
“That’s fair.” I lean back against the door frame, this time with her bikinis in hand. “Knowing Kenneth and Britney, I would say fancy.”
She pulls out a long deep orange dress next, showing it to me, “Is this too casual?”
“I have to see it on.”
“Why do you have to see it on?”
I shrug. “How do I know if it’s too casual or not?”
“Uh, you look at it.”
I walk over to her, glancing down at the dress in her hands. “Just bring it, I don’t want to spend all day here.”
She huffs, draping the dress over her shoulder before turning to me with her hands resting on her hips. “What is your problem today? I know that you’re usually a dick, but this is next level.”
She’s right of course and it’s because I’m extra anxious today. The closer we get to the wedding, the more my heart rate fails to return to normal. I have tried to rack my brain for a way to get out of the wedding, but I can’t let Kenneth down. I can, however, piss him and Britney off. I will not be mentioning that I’m bringing Nikita along because I know both of them will say no to shelter Violet’s feelings. Well, Britney will say no and Kenneth will go along with it.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Not a quote I tend to live by, hence the increasing anxiety.
Nikita clicks her fingers in front of me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?”
I huff, trying to gather my bearings, “Yes, I’m listening to you, Nikita.”
“Tell me what your problem is then?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
She scoffs, “Could have fooled me.” Turning back, she continues going through her clothes, grabbing different pieces that are on the hangers. “Is this about Valerie?”
“Violet.”
“Whatever.” She brings another black dress up to her nose, sniffing it before groaning and hanging it back up. “Are you extra dick-ish today because of Violet?”
“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”
“You better get over that because I still need some backstory.” Dropping down onto her haunches, she rummages through the shoes at the bottom of her cupboard. Everything is in disarray in there and I have to avert my eyes from the untidiness that makes my brain feel like it is about to malfunction.
“I’m here to help,” she continues, “But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what we’re up against.”
I shake my head, “I still don’t get why you’re helping. You hate me.”
“Yes, but I already told you. I hate sitting at my brother’s house trying to fix up my life even more, so I’ll take whatever holiday I can, and right now, Algarve is calling my name.”
“Bingo!” Standing up again, this time she reveals what looks like a squashed bag in her hand. “Now you don’t have to hold my bikinis, which apparently, bother you so much.” She shoves the bag in my direction and I start putting the pieces inside.
“Violet dumped me, and that was shit, alright? I know she wasn’t perfect, but no one is.”
Since it has become clear that no one around me is a fan of my ex-girlfriend, I have started questioning many things about our relationship. It is a sickening feeling of disappointment that comes along with the realization that things were not how I viewed them to be.
“But I’d be lying to myself if I said that she didn’t have a hold on me.” I stand up straight, this time with her open bag in my hands, holding onto the straps on either side. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I get it.” Nikita turns to me, a pair of sneakers in her hand. “You’re not the only person to get dumped.”
This takes me by surprise. I am aware that Nikita was single, but there isn’t much else that I know about what had happened between her and her ex-boyfriend. “I would have figured that Nikita Da Silva would be the one to do the dumping.” Placing the shoes in the bag in my hands, she enters close proximity to my personal space, sending shock waves through me. A reaction that catches me off-guard. I open my mouth to say something, but she beats me to it.
“You don’t know anything about me, Rhodes.”
I am not sure if it is how the words fall from her lips or the conviction in which she says it, but I can’t stop my eyes from dropping. For one split second, I notice her lips and wonder what they taste like.
“So, stop acting like you do.”
Her poking against my chest pulls me back to reality, the brief moment of weakness dissolving around me. “You’re right,” I admit before clearing my throat, returning to my default reaction. Complete and utter disinterest. “While you continue to pack, I think we should get our story in order.”
“Our story?”
“Yes. Our fake love story.”
“Oh, right, that.” She dumps a few more things in the bag. “We met through my brother, so we don’t have to lie about that.”
“Yes, and how we didn’t like each other initially,” I add.
She nods. “And forget the part about that still being true.” I roll my eyes as she slides her cupboard door closed before opening up the next. “We can just say we started chatting it up on social media and then we reconnected at Mario’s birthday party and we’ve been… inseparable ever since.” Even as she says it, she doesn’t sound too convinced.
“You’re going to need to deliver a better performance than that,” I respond, dryly.
“I have time to perfect the character of your girlfriend.” She looks up at me. “How nosy are your friends anyway? How much information are they going to want to get out of us?”
I shrug and think for a moment, only really taking notice now of just how involved we all are… were, in each other’s lives.
“All of it.”
“That’s not happening,” she states sarcastically and returns to her rummaging. “Anyone I should be warned about?”
I pause, going through all of those that I am aware of on the guest list. “Kenneth’s younger brother, Paul. The guy is a notorious flirt so don’t be surprised if he hits on you. He hits on anything with legs.”
“Kenneth is the groom, right?”
“Right, and he is marrying Britney.”
“Britney, yes, got it.”
“Violet is best friends with Britney. She was the one who introduced the two of us. I was friends with Kenneth so when Vi and I got together, we all naturally-.”
“Formed a little clique?” The inflection of her voice goes up at the end.
I open my mouth to argue against that but pause as that is probably the most accurate way to explain it. From the outside now, I recognize that’s how it would have come across. I still remember the first time I met Violet. A refined, sophisticated woman who carried herself with a polished demeanor. She was also ridiculously beautiful and someone who caught my attention from the very beginning.
“And what do Kenneth and Britney do so that they can afford a wedding like this?” Nikita questions, bringing me back to the conversation.
“Britney’s father started McCormick Properties.”
She pauses, “I think I know them, aren’t they the-”
“Biggest real estate development firm in the country? Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Britney’s father is looking to retire, but will only leave the company to his two daughters when they get married.”
“What?” Nikita’s eyes widened. “What kind of old-ass way of thinking is that?”
I shrug, “Let’s just say that their father has been very vocal about the fact he wanted sons.”
“Well, shit. That’s… traumatic. Is that why Britney’s getting married?”
“I doubt it. Britney has zero interest in the company. She and Kenneth have been together for years.”
“Is Kenneth in real estate too?”
“Kenneth works for the company.”
“And what do you do?” She turns to me with a chuckle. “I just realized I have no idea what your job is.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” I use her own words against her and she pulls a face at me before I answer, “I’m a quantity surveyor.”
“Don’t you have to be incredibly smart to be one of those?” There is an amusement in her eyes as she continues her relentless pestering whilst moving to close the bag in my hand that is now full.
“Funny,” I say with a deadpan expression.
She reaches up and pokes my cheek, taking me by surprise at how blasé she is with her actions. “You’re way too fun to mess with. I might actually enjoy this next week.”
“I’m going to need you to put your best foot forward for this.” The thought of Nikita going rogue turns me cold. “The people attending are the ones flying first class, not economy.”
“Ah, so PEP people.”
“PEP people?”
“Pompous, entitled pricks. Don’t worry, I’ve had enough encounters with people like that over the years.” She looks at me up and down insinuating that I am one of those people. “Trust me, I’ve had some practice.”
I narrow my eyes but choose to ignore her comment. “Are you done?”
“Most of my stuff is fucked so I’m going to have to make another plan.” She grabs a couple of dresses still on their hangers and folds them over her arms. “All this needs to be washed. I’d prefer to smell like a fresh lavender field instead of a swamp.”
I chuckle lightly, which earns a look of intrigue from Nikita.
“You laughed at something I said.” She sounds proud of herself.
Turning my chuckle into a cough, I lie, “I did not.”
This time, she is the one laughing. “I heard you.” She walks past me, heading out of her bedroom as I follow behind her. “Calvin Rhodes finds me hilarious.”
“Calvin Rhodes finds you annoying.”
“For now.” She pulls open her front door and takes a step back, gesturing for me to exit first. “After you.”
I stand back to let her through first. “I insist.”
“I have to lock up.”
“Oh, right.” I slip past her, realizing that she is making some sense.
“Humor and manners? Careful, Rhodes, before you know it, you’ll be falling in love with me and I’ll have you eating out of my hand.”
This has me a little taken aback by the ridiculousness of her statement reaching new heights. “You might want to lower your expectations to zero there, sweetheart.”
She locks the door and starts leading us downstairs, tossing a smile my way. Her utter belief in the fact that she needed to warn me not to fall in love with her was downright laughable.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she responds in a singsong tone.