2 1-The sexiest lowyer
"Are you sure?"
I roll my eyes, and then cast a quick warning glance at my friend, who instantly blushes and lowers her eyes.
"We have been organizing this for three weeks." - I snort loudly, publishing the announcement before I regret because of her.
"You can not ask me these questions now." - I whisper, quite distracted as I stare at the screen of the phone and bring the straw between my lips to enjoy my berry smoothie.
«Okay.» - she says with a shy voice, resuming eating her colorful macarons.
We've known each other for years, so much that I can say we grew up together, but she has never stopped being shy and I have remained the same opportunistic bitch who thinks of nothing but getting rich to stop depending on my father.
Maybe she's the only person I haven't lied to in my life, the only one who knows I'm at home in my pajamas from morning to night and with my hair tied up in a messy puke bun, rather than wearing designer clothes and high heels as I am forced to do when I have to cross the threshold of the house and go out.
I hate tight skirts that highlight my curves.
I hate my curves.
My curly hair has always bothered me, so much that they force me to wake up two hours early in the morning to tidy them up and look presentable.
They are so red that I can never get unnoticed, even in moments of discomfort, even if I have repeatedly ended up in New York newspapers in articles entitled 'The sexiest lowyer', the sexy but still strangely single lawyer, now in his thirties and without a man by my side:
'What are you waiting for, judges? Don't be shy! '- another article that highlighted my elegance, but I prefer to die alone, rather than share my life with a brainless being who thinks of nothing but seeing what color my underwear is!
I don't see myself beautiful, but others do, which only raises my self-esteem every time I walk through the corridors of the New York County Supreme Court, while everyone gives me admiring or envious glances, looking at me from head to toe as if it was the first time they see a ginger head woman.
The only person who still does not look at me with pride is my father, even if he was the first to have taught me to be opportunistic rather than generous ...
"Listen, darling ..." - I clear my throat, waiting for the waitress who joins our table, to leave before she starts talking again:
"We are used to living together and not sharing our house with anyone ..." - I say aloud, making her understand that I understand her.
The first thing we thought when we received our 10th salary was to make our dream come true: to have our own home and live together as if we were two sisters.
I will become the aunty of her children and she will learn to love my cats when I am too depressed to surround myself with furry animals.
«But now we are in difficulty ...» - I resume to explain to you what we have discussed endlessly in recent days.
Ever since I asked my dad to stop helping me financially and turned down the money he deposited into my checking account, I have realized how difficult it is to live in New York, even if the house Meredith and I have chosen is over the top, so large to be inhabited by two people.
"If we find two women with whom to share our villa ..." - I move my eyes again to the advertisement to make sure that no one has approved yet, and then conclude:
"Maybe we will also make two friends." - I try a smile, but with my words I try to convince myself more than her, even if she nods for the umpteenth time.
I take a deep breath, then rub my hand on her shoulder and stand up in distress, with my grandmother pressed tight against my belly in a very hateful way.
«See you tomorrow.» - I greet her, while she assumes a confused expression, devouring the penultimate green biscuit left on her plate.
"You won't sleep at home?" -she asks in a faint voice, looking at me from below, while my eyes remain fixed on the sweet pink inviting under his hand.
To hell with the diet!
I hasten to reach out to take possession of the last of the macarons, in front of her offended eyes:
"Hey!" - she hastens to reply, but I walk away in a thousandth of a second, explaining to her:
"I'll pass by my father's." - she rolls her eyes, and then crosses her arms to her chest, but I don't give her time to complain that I turn my back on her and run away from the bar before my father complains about the delay, as if we had left a formal appointment.
I bite into the biscuit, as I look around shyly, as if photographers might come out to catch me eating at any moment, so I hurry to my car to please my old father.
I take a deep breath and run my tongue between my lips as soon as I notice the road is clear.
The West Village has never been so deserted, but I can't complain, as I drive really badly and have repeatedly had to pay for the damage I've done in this neighborhood.
Fortunately, the road is almost empty, if it wasn't for a car parked a few meters away, but I try to get away without causing trouble, in the meantime turning on the radio.
I hurry to turn up the volume when Blake McGrath's voice spreads in the car, making me smile without being able to restrain myself.
I turn the volume up to full without thinking twice, and then bask in the sound of his voice as he sings Instead.
As a child I never had a dream about what to become when I grew up, but I always had a passion for drawing , even though my father always insisted that I become a lawyer, just for the sake of telling his colleagues that he has a decent daughter. .
I've never been so and he knows it, but I can't hate him, not after he pulled me out of some awkward situations, even though I don't remember being treated like a daughter to him.
I inherited the love for money from him, but if my father likes to save, I prefer to spend what I have earned.
"There you are." - my stepmother gives me a long glare, then hurries to fix her hair, most likely she ran to open the door for me.
"Your father is on a rampage!" - she takes me gently by the elbow, as I just roll my eyes and walk into the empty house.
The idea of spending time in this house makes me shiver.
Too cold. Too empty.
I love luxury, but not solitude, and this house is very lonely: the only friends I had as a child were my father's employees, but they were fired by the prostitute next to me.
Everyone understands that she only married him for the money, except my father, who believes he is loved without realizing that she probably cheats on him every time she gets the chance to do so.
"Dad?" - my sweet voice is so unusual that I see him stiffen his jaw as soon as I approach the table.
«I had a setback.» - I try to explain, but I jump when he slams his fist on the table, making the neat cutlery vibrate under his eyes.
"God! I just accompanied Meredith home! "- I can't help myself and I shoot yet another lie, but he doesn't seem to believe it, as he points his index finger at the chair in front of him:
"I'm not falling for it, sit down!" - his tone exceeds mine, so I decide not to make the situation worse, even if I can't help but snort.
"Honey, I have prepared ..." - the viper returns to the kitchen and tries to get noticed by my father when she puts down a plate full of green junk in front of him, even though she knows that my father loves the roast, the one cooked for him our former cook.
I hold back a smile when he interrupts her, but I get serious again when I understand that the usual interrogation begins:
"Are you in trouble?" - he raises his chin in my direction, while I press my lips together, feeling the taste of the lipstick while I wonder how he knew.
"No!" - I reply quickly, but I don't have time to try to convince him that he raises his voice:
"Why did you publish that ad?" - he points to my phone on the table, while raising an eyebrow, then crossing his arms over his chest and emphasizing his broad shoulders under the checkered shirt.
"It's none of your business anymore!" - I grit my teeth without leaving his eyes, while the woman beside him clears her throat.
I don't understand why he always has to try to intrude. I was an excellence in university to please my father! I chose the job he dreamed of, I made the life he wanted for a damn 'I'm proud of you' that never came out of his mouth.
"Who will be the new roommates?" - he doesn't listen to my words, while Carol tries to distract him in vain:
«Love, it could get cold ...» - she says in a faint voice.
"I don't know." - I give up and satisfy him with a faint voice, even though I know he won't stop for that long:
«I want to meet them.» -he insists, as if I were a child who cannot take care of herself.
Maybe that's the only reason I call him father: he worries about me so much that he has repeatedly wanted to assign me one of his men to defend me, but I've never felt in danger, not even in one of the busiest neighborhoods in New York.
I start to nod to his request, even though it sounded more like an order than a question, but his wife interrupts me again:
"It's really tasty, believe me." - she insists on asking my father, then I vent out loud:
"Fuck! Maybe he's not hungry! "- I glare at her, but my father hurries to straighten his back:
«Valerie!» - he screams my name with so much contempt that I stop being hungry and I get up from the chair snorting, and then turn my back to both of them and walk towards the stairs.
"Valerie, come back immediately ..." - his voice becomes more and more distant as I climb the steps to lock myself in my room and isolate myself from the rest of this sad house.
I throw myself on the double bed after throwing the phone on the opposite side, on the soft and fragrant blankets.
The urge to scream to let off steam is so strong that I have to plunge my face into a white pad to let out a strangled moan.
I shouldn't have come, and I knew it before I even accepted his invitation.
I cannot stand them, I cannot see them together and I can't resist even five minutes before freaking in front of them.
I fill my lungs with air and turn my belly upwards, unbuttoning my skirt to be able to breathe better, as I bring my eyes to the pillow beside me.
I almost seem to be able to breathe his scent, as if he were lying next to me, when in reality he ran away like a coward as soon as he learned the truth.
He sure knew how to calm me down and make me forget that my father exists, but he turned out to be worse than my father.
He and my father are the reason why I have completely lost faith in men, but they are not the only ones who have let me down.
My mother died before I could remember her face, but I never wanted to know how it happened ... or maybe I didn't have the courage, after learning that she committed suicide.
I was probably a pain in the ass for her too and she preferred to take her own life rather than grow a leaf like me.
The only one who has never let me down is Meredith and she is the only one who deserves all my benevolence, regardless of how shy she is and how different we are.
As soon as I raise the corner of my mouth thinking about my friend and how weird she is, I jump on the bed when my phone makes a sound that lets me know that a message has arrived.
I instantly rise with my curls flickering in the air as I hurry to the phone, hoping that's what I think.
My eyes light up when I read the email that lights up the screen:
*Two users requested an interview.*
