I’ve Got You

And, honestly, compared to the rural, muddy roads of the place she came from, the brilliant, throbbing life of the city and the beautifully aligned city resort of Miami Beach struck the right kind of chords within. Someone like Peter would never think to move out of the town they were born in. Someone like Peter lacked ambition, and compassion for the world beyond.

“Do you think I should move to Miami Beach, then?” Aleshia said, cutting through a preamble of the different types of Latin restaurants across Miami. She chewed her way through a bowl of almonds.

“Definitely,” Vaneese said. “Especially if you’re not planning to learn Spanish. That way, you get my close company, you can potentially babysit my child, and I’ll be able to help you with yours. Either that, or you go back to Minnesota with mom and her current new boyfriend. Peter is also there. I wouldn’t recommend it. And no, Ali. I don’t think you can raise the kid alone.”

“I could.” Aleshia smarted at her sister’s assumption.

“Your self-esteem could be better, Ali. You need people nearby to remind you and support you, or you’ll be hunched up in front of that laptop all day. It’s how it is.”

“We’ll have to take you to some of the bars,” Dijon said. “After the baby is born,” he added hastily, at Vaneese’s scowl.

“You can go to a bar and not drink as well,” Kiara pointed out. She graciously accepted a drink of whiskey from Dijon, again making Aleshia think they were all being unfair, drinking openly in front of her, but not allowing her to take any sips, constantly quoting the baby likely being affected by some dire condition as a result of her terrible, demonic drinking habits. I drink a quarter of what my sister does. Hypocrite.

“We’ll see. I know a good realtor, Ali. If you want to find a good apartment, and not that ramshackle place you’re holed up in, this man keeps an eye on the best deals. He got us this place.”

“Oh, I’ll get the number,” Dijon said. “I can make a call if you want. Him and me are friends. Go out drinking, sometimes.”

“Hang on, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” Aleshia said, holding up her palms. “I don’t mind the place I’m in.”

Under another flood of persuasion from Vaneese, Kiara and Dijon, Aleshia conceded to their superior concern and conviction she would be better off near them, and Dijon made the call to the realtor. Taking a leaf out of Aleshia’s book, he put his Samsung on speakerphone as well, so they could listen into the conversation. After the normal greetings, Dijon plunged into the meat of the topic at hand. The man on the other side of the phone, a Cameron Lovell, had a wonderful deep voice that made Aleshia pay rapt attention. It was exactly the kind of voice she loved on actors in films. Her sister knew as much, and kept giving her knowing smiles.

“Hey, man. I was wondering, you got room for any more clients that want to find a nice property to rent in Miami Beach?”

Cameron responded instantly. “Of course. Is this a family friend?”

“My wife’s sister.”

“Your absolutely stunning wife has a sister? You never mentioned that to me before.”

“Down, boy,” Dijon said, grinning. “She’s just recent in the area. Looking to move to a location to inspire her writing skills.”

“She can phone me herself. You can give her my number. I’ll be more than happy to suggest some things to her myself.”

“She’s here in the room with us, actually. I can pass you over.”

“No.” Vaneese barked out the word. “My sister has absolutely hopeless taste in apartments. If you start asking her about what she wants, Cameron, she’s going to give you answers that will make you want to stab your eyeballs.”

Cameron hesitated a moment. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. What’s your sister’s name, Vaneese?”

“Aleshia.”

“Nice. Hello Aleshia. I’m Cameron Lovell.”

“Hello. Aleshia Washington, being persuaded to find somewhere decent to live.”

Cameron chuckled. “Get Dijon to give you my number. If you want, I can arrange for some informal viewings within this week. Sales have been scarce this season. The expensive nature of the properties and the restriction of jobs in the resort tends to put people off.”

“That’s alright. I can manage.” Aleshia found herself smiling at the nonchalant way they talked. She disliked a little of her sister’s blatant encouragement. Vaneese was now miming kissing motions, and pointing to the phone and back to her. Aleshia hoped he was married, or otherwise engaged. The thought of going back into the dating scene or being exposed to interest again made her feel empty. However, she liked easy conversation like this.

 “Excellent. We can start the ball rolling this week. Be aware. I’m committed to giving my clients the best of what Miami and Miami Beach has to offer. I promise you that you won’t be disappointed. So… Thursday?”

Aleshia blinked. It was Tuesday. “Uh, sure. I have nothing better to do, I guess.”

“Oh? Flexible work hours? Or no work?”

“Flexible.”

“Nice,” he said. “I look forward to it. Does that cover things, Dijon? Also, mate, we have to meet up again. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Dijon grinned. “I’ve been swamped with work, but we can make it something on Saturday evening if you’re up for it. That alright, hun?”

“I’m not your master,” Vaneese said wryly. “You can see people if you want.”

Dijon ended the call, scribbled down Cameron’s number and passed it to Aleshia.

“He’s single, isn’t he?” Vaneese asked Dijon.

“I don’t know. He was last time I checked. He’s a bit of a lady killer.” Dijon shrugged.

“Vaneese…” Kiara frowned at her friend. The thirty-five year old sipped a little of her drink, mouth wrinkling. “I think it’s a little too soon to start thrusting another man on your sister, given what’s just transpired this evening.”

“Eh. She’ll appreciate it in time.” Vaneese waved her friend off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“This is my life you’re casually talking about.” Aleshia imitated Kiara’s expression. “You always barge in and act like you know what’s best for me.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

Aleshia wasn’t sure how to answer that. She knew her sister meant well. And, technically, her sister had never been wrong. Even if she did do most things in her life with the grace of a steamroller.

Sometimes, Aleshia in her moodier days liked to blame her sister for her more reclusive nature. She knew, in reality, she chose the more introvert path herself. Vaneese liked bars and clubs. Aleshia liked writing, reading, and people who didn’t talk her ear off.

However, it looked like her life would be changing, one giant leap at a time. Despite conflicts the sisters did have, at least Vaneese cared. Even if she came across as brusque at times. Aleshia had long since grown a thick skin to combat those mannerisms. Otherwise she would have never survived her childhood years. You did not grow up with Vaneese Dawson, or previously Vaneese Washington without mastering the art of combat. It was also why she continually admired Dijon for not only enduring Vaneese, but marrying her and raising a kid together with her without looking like some battered housewife for all the verbal abuse he must have gotten. Aleshia certainly didn’t envy him, having experienced that tongue first hand for her entire life.

Still, she didn’t know where to go next in her life. The child inside suggested she had to halt her ambitions, instead taking time out to cultivate it and make sure it grew up in a happy household. The city around her suggested endless opportunity, and the glowing world of the internet revealed a treasure trove worth of jobs and clients for her to slake her need for income.

She inhaled the clean, perfume tainted odor of Vaneese and Dijon’s apartment, the delicate, translucent curtains over the windows, the tasteful furniture that matched the color scheme of the walls, floor and surfaces. It held a modern, simplistic vibe, browns and blacks and white, whereas Aleshia’s current place had flaking walls, and looked more like something squatters would lodge in for short periods of times.

Well, the ball is rolling. Might as well follow it to see where it stops. Aleshia smiled, staring at Cameron Lovell’s number for a moment. She remembered his deep, warm voice. She wondered what mouth it was attached to, what face.

The shadow of Peter remained at the back of her mind, marring her attempt to imagine how things might pan out.

Perhaps she should listen to her family. Perhaps it was time to delete his number, and move on.