Five weeks passed…The second I stepped through Geo Lee’s office doors with the Chinese food I’d picked up for lunch, he was talking to me, as though whatever he had to say just couldn’t wait. “Dalia, I don’t normally do this, but I think you’re ridiculously talented. And this talent doesn’t deserve to be stifled. It needs to breath.”I walked over to the small eating table in his office and set the food bags down, wondering where his ramblings would lead to today. He was my boss and I love him and all that, but sometimes he just yapped way too much. Though, I was introduced to one of his close friends last week, and he told me Geo Lee was only this talkative with people he’s comfortable with…so I guess I should be grateful for that?"There's this fashion bidding on Monday. It's an annual thing, where talented but nameless designers, like yourself, gets the chance to model their pieces on the runway. There’ll be a host of eminent buyers—I'm not sure what enterprises just yet—who will
"Have to keep gas in the car if you want it to drive, baby girl," Michael admonished as I clambered into his ride when he came to get me.I laughed, feeling stupid. "I said I'm sorry, okay? I've been so busy—""No worries. I'll come get it tomorrow. Right now, there’s somewhere I need to be and I'm late as shit."Michael all but stomped on the gas pedal, weaving through the heavy traffic. It was that time of the evening when everyone was wearily leaving their jobs and impatient to get home. The air thick with carbon dioxide emanating from mufflers, car horns honking inharmoniously, people jaywalking, bikers squeezing through tight spaces, justifying the name for this time of the evening: rush hour.I wisely buckled up, because if Michael was in a hurry, he was about to navigate his way out of this chaos by hook or by crook. "You could’ve told me you were busy, you know,” I said, bracing back in the seat. “I could've called Julia.""Cause you're like my little sister. Can't say no to y
"Dalia… Dalia," a crusty female voice called.I raised my eyes and saw a plump, dark-haired female officer keying the grill."You're good to go."My shoulders relaxed as a too-loud exhale left me. Relieved, weak, sleepy and worried, I stepped out of the hell-hole and followed the officer."Friends in high places, eh?" the officer whispered over her shoulder.I frowned, confused."Just…keep out of trouble, alright?” she said. “You’re too pretty for these places.” Ah, okay?The bald-headed man behind the counter glared at me, face grim as he shoved my belongings to me. With a sheepish nod, I scooped them up and slipped into the filthy bathroom to change out of my jail clothes, then I was buzzed out.In the waiting area, Julia paced back and forth. "Dalia! Oh my god." She rushed towards me and locked me in a stifling hug. "Oh my god, I was so worried.""I'm fine, Julia.” I added, “Now.""I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to do. They're keeping Michael. You think he—""Not w
“They just left, Sir. Unscathed.”“Those men aren’t stupid,” he gritted out. “Get in. Disarm them. I’m a minute away.”“Want us to drill them, Sir?”“No. I want to know who really sent them, and they’ll only tell you the first name that comes to their lips. They see me, they’ll know better than to bullshit.”“’kay, Sir. On it.”Josh hung up and glanced out the window just in time to see Dalia's convertible zing past his Bentley in the opposite direction. His heart constricted. She was driving.Even as the car shot by, he noticed the black circles under her eyes and how unhealthily pale she was. When it came to her, all his senses were sharp. She was that important to him.That she even had to spend time in a stinking jail cell made him hotheaded. He’d warned her about Devon, but he guess he should’ve warned her about her own best friends, too.A few weeks back, he’d gotten wind of plans to clip Michael’s wings. The fool had painted a bull’s-eye on his forehead when he bragged to the
No surprise Devon’s high gates were wide open when Josh rolled the car through them and parked up next to a slick black Corvette belonging to his buddy. His second team was overseen by his friend, Darren. A team rarely called on, but with much on hand tonight, both teams were on duty.Darren no doubt already had Devon just the way he wanted him: cowering.As he slipped from the car, he had to shake his head at the gushing fountains and marble-tiled pillars of Devon’s Mediterranean-designed house, knowing this posh lifestyle came from the suffering, blood-shedding and soul-stealing of innocent people. There was really no need for him to make this visit to Devon; he could’ve just let Darren take care of it. But he wanted Devon to see exactly who was about to haul him off his high horse.Just before he reached the door, Darren, dressed in a sharp gray suit with his thick auburn hair gelled back in a side-part style, swung it open, grinning. He bumped his best friend’s shoulder, slapping
Nelly careened his Chrysler 300 onto 3rd Street, cruising to a slow stop at her gate, while dialing her number on his cell with one hand.“Outside,” he said when her soft, virginal voice answered.Buju Banton’s rugged voice chanted Make My Day through the car speakers, but he quickly ejected his favorite reggae artist and switched to Pink instead. He didn’t exactly care for the freakish, pink-haired girl’s music, but she loved her music, and that was all that mattered.He looked at her shabby, grassless, gardenless yard. The small, crooked bungalow seemed it hadn’t been painted in over a decade, because if he could tell what color that house really was, he’d be lying. Broken chunks of stones led up to the rickety porch, and only about three of the wooden steps seemed safe enough to walk on—he noticed she always hopped over them whenever she was leaving the house.That decrepit building, it gutted him. But what could he do while she was still seventeen? Her eighteenth birthday couldn’
Nelly sprawled shirtless on the gray L-shaped sofa in his rented flat as he watched Scarface on the flat-screen television—well, actually, he was pretending to watch the television. On the real, he was surreptitiously watching Dalia as she puttered about in the kitchen, balancing a cookbook in one hand as she tried to bake him a cake.She had no idea what she was doing, and when he offered to help, she shooed him away. His fiery little girlfriend was hell-bent on getting that cake baked. And he was enjoying watching her make a flustered mess of herself.When he’d picked her up earlier, his plan was to grab something to eat, take her shopping on Robertson Boulevard and then see a movie. Of course, her choice of food was pepperoni pizza—she was a pizza maniac. But as soon as they’d finished at the pizzeria she began whining that it was his birthday and it wasn’t right to do things for her on his day. She wanted to do something for him, like bake a cake.At first he’d been upset and trie
I woke up.I’ve been doing that a lot. Waking up. From sleep, from dreams, from fairytales, from illusions, to reality.And all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Shut out everything.Headache. I groaned at the sledgehammer pounding in my head.It was morning. And I was in my bedroom, safe and sound, Julia sprawled next to me, deep asleep, white lines of dried saliva on her cheek.The hammering in my head grew more and more severe, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut, riding it out. I needed aspirins. Preferably the PM ones that’ll send me right back to sleep.Sluggishly, I got out of bed and zombie-walked out to the living area.Two heads swung around and four eyes looked at me."Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake," Jane said, letting out a relieved sigh. She was in Hello Kitty pajamas, cradling a large, black mug.Her older brother, Tommy, was sitting next to her on the couch, looking equally worried.Tommy was a nice hunk of a guy. Tall, dark and handsome; the typical. And he was on