It was Thursday afternoon, after a full week of sunshine and warm weather, the rain decided to roll in.
It wasn't excessive but it meant that by the time I got out of the cab after work and ran for the building I live in, my shirt was see through and sopping.
The old woman that lived on the floor below me, stepped onto the elevator when it opened and gave me a not so subtle once over.
She was tall, thin and her face had almost no movement left in it.
She carried around a small white dog and reminded me whenever she had the chance that her husband died several years ago, leaving her a nice inheritance.
When I stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner, Abby was sitting on the floor outside of my apartment.
She had a duffle bag beside her, scrolling through her phone but peered up when I approached.
"Hello."
"Hey," I said. "What's up? I wasn't expecting you?"
"Surprise," she said as I picked up her bag - heavier than it looked and rattling with the sound of products - and unlocked the door. "I have a gig tomorrow. Chanel! I can't wait. Thought you might be able to put me up?"
"They weren't going to set you up in some flash joint like last time?"
"They were," she admitted, closing the door behind us. "But I thought I could have a sleepover with my brother. Catch up? I can go if you have plans though."
"Na," I set her bag down beside the sofa. "I'm glad you're here. Of course you can sleep over."
My apartment was big enough for two. It wasn't huge but it had a spare bedroom - Mom's idea for this exact reason - the kitchen and living area were one large open plan.
A breakfast bar separated the space, the carpet turning into lino where the countertop began. A short narrow corridor off the living area led to the two bedrooms, a utilities closet and the bathroom.
The living room had a ranch slider which stepped out onto a small patio.
It had a fantastic view of the neighborhood below. Watching the traffic was like watching little hot wheels cars. It never stopped, it never slowed.
I'd even witnessed a few car accidents here and there. Not to mention film crews and celebrities shooting for movies or shows.
I was on the seventh floor. So high. But not so far that I couldn't see a decent amount of detail.
The atmosphere was bright. White walls, light timber fixtures and window frames. I had a few plants around the place and of course the bookshelf was packed.
My computer desk and laptop sat in the corner and beside it was a stand alone shelf which held my record collection and of course the record player itself.
"I'm going to shower and change," I told Abby while she went straight for the kitchen in search of the herbal tea she left here last time she stopped in. "Requests for dinner?"
"What did you plan on having?" She asked.
"I have some shredded chicken and fried rice. Not enough for two though. We can order Chinese or there's a pizza parlor about two minutes from here."
"I'm not that hungry," she said. "Have what you were going to eat before."
"You have to eat."
"I ate," she said and plucked a mug from the hooks that were lined up on the wall above the breakfast spreads. "I'm good. We can go out early and get breakfast tomorrow."
"Alright," I said and headed for the bathroom as I unbuttoned my damp shirt.
In the bathroom, I pulled it off and dropped it in the hamper. The bathroom might have been the biggest downfall about the apartment.
It was so damn small.
I could stand in the shower and piss into the toilet. It was all close and compact. The fact that the mirror was opposite the shower didn't help either. Watching myself shower was one of the weirdest things I've ever done. I still wasn't used to it despite being here for over three months.
Before I could take my pants off, a tap on the door drew me up short and I found Abby on the other side.
"Amalia is here," she whispered. "She has a painting or something."
"Oh shit, that's right." I pulled the door further open and brushed past her. "Can you switch the shower off."
I'd forgotten I spent a weeks worth of rent on a painting on Monday. Of course, I hadn't been expecting Amalia would be the one to drop it off. I wasn't complaining either though.
When I walked into the living room, there she was. The canvas was wrapped in brown paper and she had it leaning against her leg.
Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, strands of it framed her face. A long sleeve dress fit her bodice and flowed around her thighs.
"Oh, hello," she said and it was subtle but her gaze wandered for a moment.
Oh shit, I didn't put a shirt on. I hoped she didn't think I did that on purpose.
I mean, she was attracted to Lucas. We looked the same. So she could be checking me out? I found myself sort of hoping she was. But I shouldn't be hoping that. Should I? Was that wrong? Disrespecting bro code? Well they dated for two weeks. But Kyla? Kyla wanted me to move on? But that's getting a bit ahead of myself. Oh fu—
"Max?" Amalia's voice broke through the internal dialogue. She smiled and tapped the painting. "I know someone else was meant to drop this off. But the guy Dad hired to work in the store and do deliveries and repairs and all of that, failed his drug test two days ago. He hasn't been replaced. So I'm here. I ho—"
"It's fine," I ran a hand through my hair, giving it a bit of a shake to rid the excess water. "Uh I was thinking of hanging it above the sofa. It's sort of central and uh—"
"Perfect," she murmured, glancing around the room. She pointed at the ranch slider. "The light won't damage the painting and like you said, it's central."
I nodded, satisfied that she agreed. "I can hang it," I offered. "It's no trouble. I don't want to hold you up."
"No no," she shook her head and let the strap of her bag slide off her shoulder as she held it in her hand. "I brought the right tools and we use these special hooks that don't damage the paint. We provide them because they're expensive from the store."
"Can I help?" I asked, twisting around so I could find where the hell Abby had disappeared to.
She never came out of the corridor again and I considered going in search of her. But she was an adult. I doubt she'd fallen down the toilet and that was about all the trouble that she could get into down there.
She would have made herself scarce on purpose.
"Um," Amalia stared at the wall and clacked her tongue. "You could hand me the painting and let me know if it's straight. Do you mind if I stand on the couch?"
I shook my head and gestured for her to go ahead.
Amalia toed off her little black boots. She was wearing mismatched socks.
Purple and pink ankle socks that made her blush when she caught me staring at them with amusement.
"I'm the worst for pairing socks. And no, they don't go with the outfit, at all. But no one could see them at work so it didn't matter."
I looked down at my own feet. Black socks. I owned about a thousand of the same ones. I liked hers better.
She stood up on the couch and I quickly unwrapped the canvas. It was a great painting. Vibrant with deep rich colours. Elias was a talented man that's for sure. If it weren't for the texture of the paint, it could be a photograph.
I handed Amalia the painting and stood back while she made sure her little hooks were in the right place before she stuck them to the wall with the permanent adhesive. It took a minute of instruction. "A little to the left." "A little to the right." "That corner up." "Down." "Perfect."
I stood behind her while she fastened them. Her toned arms were above her head, one leaning on the wall for balance while the other installed the hooks.
When she was finished, she hung the canvas and turned around to jump down from the couch. I was a little warm and no doubt red from having an up close view of her long gorgeous legs. It felt stupid but I was in a bit of a state. Still, I offered her my hand and she took it, jumping down with appreciation. Her skin was soft. Smooth. Warm.
"So," she sighed and put her hands on her hips. "What do we think?"
We stood beside each other and assessed the new addition to the living room. It fit well. I was pleased that even though I hadn't put an ounce of thought in to the purchase, it worked. "It looks great," I nodded and felt her arm brush mine when she clapped her hands with excitement. It reminded me that I was still half naked and I hoped that I wasn't making her uncomfortable. I should have put on a shirt as soon as she got here. Idiot.
"No," she gasped, and marched herself right over to my collection of vinyls. I trailed behind her. She picked up the Marvin Gaye record and turned it over in her hands. "I love his music. This man was one of the only American artists that we listened to growing up. Aside from Selena of course. Dad's a huge fan."
"Midnight Love was the last album that he recorded before he died," I pointed at it but watched her expression which was full of delight. "It was his most successful one as well. No surprise since that's the album that has Sexual Healing on it."
Amalia giggled and I pointed at the shelf where another two of his albums sat side by side. "Let's Get It On is my favourite I think. That's when he branched into funk and romance. A critic labelled it one of the most sexually charged albums ever recorded."
"Huh," she quirked her brows with a small smile.
"Favourite song?" I questioned. "From any of his albums."
She thought about it for a minute. Narrowing her beautifully shaped eyes. "When I'm Alone I cry," she nodded with a soft smile.
"The title of his third album."
"Yeah. Dad used to put it on. All the time. After we moved here of course. Only the biggest hits were on our stereos in Barcelona. But when we moved to the U.S we discovered so much more of his music and I think that song really resonated with Dad. So it was on a lot. It just reminds me of when he'd smile at me and twirl me around our little kitchen."
I wanted to ask where her Mom was. But something told me that part of her father's love for that song had something to do with her. Perhaps she'd died. I didn't want to pry.
"Second favourite song then?" I grinned.
"Ain't No Mountain High Enough," she answered without missing a beat.
"One of souls greatest pairings," I smiled. "Tammi Terrell. She has a great voice."
Amalia nodded. "Beautiful."
She slipped the record back onto the shelf and brushed her loose strands of hair from her face. She pursed her lips and turned to me, seeming a little more nervous than she had been before. Once again, I caught her gaze drop to my chest but she was quick to revert her attention. "Um Max?"
"Yeah?"
"My father is having an opening— an event to open the new gallery. It's not this weekend. But next and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?"
My brows raised in surprise.
"No pressure!" She added with a light laugh. "I was going to ask Jimmy from the parlor. But he wouldn't want to do something like that. And if he did go, it would have been out of pity. I feel like you'd appreciate it more. But you don't have to. I don't want you to say yes out of pity either. I'll jus—"
"What time?"
She paused with her lips still parted in mid ramble. She was cute. No, stunning. She smiled and her shoulders relaxed. "Seven. Saturday. It's suit and tie," she winced as if that would be a problem. "But your door charge would be covered and there's alcohol and nibbles. We can have a beer. Dad won't mind."
"It sounds good," I slid my hands into my pockets and pretended as though my heart wasn't pounding. It was equal parts excitement and guilt. "I don't have a car but I can—"
"I'll meet you here," she suggested. "If that's alright? I have to come from Philly. So I'll train in and then get a cab."
"I'll meet you at the train station?" I countered her offer. If I could arrange a car service for the night, then I would. She nodded and seemed pleased with that arrangement. So we exchanged numbers and then she left.
As I wandered back into the living area after closing the door - chewing my nail with concern over the fact that I had just sort of arranged a date with a girl that Lucas used to date, one year after I laid my high school sweetheart to rest - I glanced up and found Abby curled up on the couch in her tank top and flannel PJ pants. She was grinning with her phone in her hand and her hair tied into what she called a night bun.
"What?" I avoided looking at her as I beelined for the bathroom.
"We're chatting when you get out of there!" She called out. "I'll make popcorn!"
Despite her promise of chatting, I managed to avoid lingering on the subject of Amalia for too long. She wanted details that weren't as scandalous as she was hoping for. The fact that Amalia and I had talked three times and about nothing more than art or music seemed to disappoint her. We both sat on the couch in our PJs. For me that was boxer shorts but I left a t shirt on while we watched Law and Order re runs and ate pop corn.
Well, I ate popcorn and she was starting to make me feel like a lard. We talked about work and she detailed her modelling experiences and upcoming projects which required a lot of travel. But that was one of her favourite parts. Flynn went with her when he could but college didn't allow for a lot of free time. There was no strain on the relationship though. They lived together but weren't in each others space all of the time. Abby claimed that the balance was working well for them.
She seemed hesitant when she asked me how work was going. She listened while I explained that Jordan had fallen through on several contracts alone this weekend. He couldn't meet the deadline and clients went elsewhere for their marketing. There was no shortage of people that needed promotional market plans or digital advertisement. But a loss was a loss and he'd had three of them before Friday.
Marnie had more to complain about than me. She did a lot of the mock ups and began the proposals before the contracts were signed. It was her time wasted. I just ran errands and read over negotiations. I chased up people who hadn't met the deadlines. However, I had pushed Elias' contract to Jordan and urged him to get it done because it was going to be the sort of company that we had future work with. He listened and the contract was signed.
"Ugh Max," Abby interrupted and pinched the bridge of her nose while I was going over the logistics of a slogan copyright. "Do you hear what you're saying right now? You're job sounds so hideous and boring."
"What's wrong with my job?"
"It's dull and constrictive. You're assisting in a little cubicle with a girl that I have never seen smile, for a boss who smells like a cologne campaign and when you're not there, you're in this apartment wasting your life away."
"I go out with Marnie sometimes," I defended, feeling a little bummed out at how harsh she was being. "Besides, my job is easy. That was the point. To take on a less stressful work load."
"You know why it's easy?" She questioned but it must have been rhetorical because she answered as well. "Because it's not challenging enough for you. You have such a brilliant brain. You can retain and absorb so much information. You can do more."
"The point in the gap year was to do less," I argued. "Hence the easy office job."
She groaned. "Yes I know. But my point is, you're wasting your gap year. You shouldn't be stuck in an office at all. Go and travel. Experience what the world has to offer. And then come back and do something that's challenging. If it's law, then great. You might find something else that you're passionate about. Who knows. But the point is, live a little! You're so pale now!"
"I live in New York," I pointed at the window. "One of the most exciting cities in the country."
She nodded with a flat stare. "And it's out there. Not in this living room. Besides, a lot of people are in their nine to five jobs because they have no other choice. And I know that might sound snobby. But we have the means to experience the world. We're blessed. More blessed than others. We should never take it for granted. We should utilize our options."
"I'm trying to decide whether that sounds super conceited or somewhat wise."
"Probably both," she nodded.
I sighed. I hadn't considered that I might have been setting myself up for regret later in life. I should have considered it. But I hadn't. So I gave into the fact that she might have a good point. The least that I could do was spend my weekends doing something more exciting. There was a lot of New York that I hadn't seen despite being here for just under twelve months.
"Well Lucas is coming in on Saturday," I shrugged and rested my arm on the back of the sofa. "I'm sure he'll have no problem making sure that it's an eventful weekend."
Abby snapped her head towards me. "Lucas is coming? I didn't know that."
"Mhmm. Football season starts soon. He won't have his weekends as available."
She pouted and used her long nail to scratch the corner of her nose. "Well, I wish I had known. I could have planned to be here too. It's been ages since we were all together."
"We spent three weeks together over the summer," I blinked. "It was like less than a month ago."
"Still," she shook her head when I offered her the bowl of popcorn. "We should do it more. Don't be surprised if Flynn and I happen to show up as well."
"I only have one spare bed."
"Lucas can share with you," she smiled. "I'll share with Flynn."
"Milly will probably be coming with him."
"Oh fine," she threw her hands up. "I'll book a room at the four seasons. I haven't stayed there in a while. Now, tell me what an earth possessed you to spend seven hundred dollars on a painting?"