Miss Independent (9 page)

              Vanessa noticed she was shaking a little and placed her hands on her shoulders to calm her. “Listen, Samantha. I like you. I don’t say that to many people because I don’t like many people, especially my employees. I’m not supposed to say things like that, but it’s true. And I wouldn’t send you out there if I
didn’t
like you, or if I was certain you would screw it up, because ultimately, my name and reputation with regards to
Attitude
are on the line here. We’re working with high class fashion models and photographers that Wintour herself would chew off her right arm to snag for her latest issue. One screw up on set could ruin me a lot more than any Page Six article ever written about me.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Good, because you seem like the type that really wants me to succeed, so I know that you’ll be fine.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “And you can relax, because you won’t actually be by yourself. It’s just that I’m not going to be there to guide you as I’d like. Someone else will be there with you, another editor. I just need you to be my eyes and ears. Record it on your phone if you have to. Just let me know what’s going on.”

              Samantha let out a sigh of relief and fell back on her heels. “Alright. Okay, I can do that.”

              “Great. I need to get started, so why don’t you make those phone calls for me, okay?”

              She bobbed her head and moved toward the door. “Would you like to be left alone for a few minutes?”

              Vanessa saw the apprehension on her face and pinched her lips to the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. I need to collect myself before getting started. Thanks.”

              “Sure.” She closed the door behind her.

              Vanessa folded her arms and glanced up at the ceiling.

             
Dear God, it’s me, Vanessa. When I said I felt I needed to be confronted by this situation on a daily basis in order to move past it, I never meant literally and with the help of the other two parties involved! But, thanks!

              She went over to her chair, sitting down and once again looking down at all of Manhattan below her. It was official. Hurricane Sheila was blowing back into the city much sooner rather than later. With no previous plans of ever attending the reunion, and the wedding taking place in California, she thought she was free from confronting her past in person. But once again, fate stepped in and had other plans. She wasn’t sure whether she would smile at her in hopes of proving how much she
had
moved past it all, and certainly didn’t need any help from the enemy in doing so. Or just walk up to her and deck her directly in the mouth upon sight like she had in high school when she found her having sex with Nathan in the shower of the girl’s locker room.

That latter was looking better and better the more she thought of it.

              After spending the night alone in bed, Maurice was somewhat cranky waking up. The girl he had been having sex with the day before —whose name he finally learned was in fact Shaleesha— was long gone before the sun even set. When he had returned to the room after speaking with Vanessa downstairs, he saw that she was still tied up with the apple in her mouth, but was now pissed as hell that he had left her alone for so long. When he tried explaining that his roommates were home and that she was going to have to go home anyway because she was too loud, she became even more furious. He debated on whether or not he was even going to untie her by then, seeing as how she was trying to kick him in the face, as her legs weren’t bound, and kept making clawing gestures with her fingers.

              But all it took was a deep kiss, and she was back to being putty in his hands. Maurice knew he had a way with women, all women, except the one he had always wanted. He knew Vanessa found him attractive, sexy even, which is why he was so certain that she did in fact watch him as he had come out of the shower, and sometimes even as he was still in there. He also knew that despite whatever she said, under the right circumstances, they could actually make a real ‘go’ of a relationship. Possibly even get married and maybe have a few kids. She was the only woman who ever made him believe in such things.

He was always by her side, patiently waiting for her to realize their potential. When he learned that Nathan had discarded her for Sheila, he immediately abandoned their childhood friendship, choosing to remain at Vanessa’s side, even as she tried pushing him away, fearing that he would leave her anyway like all men seemed to, beginning with her father. But he assured her as he often did that she was his best friend, and the only person in his life he could ever love more than his own mother.

He felt she needed to know that he still wanted to be with her as more than a friend from the moment he learned it was over between she and Nathan, and even long before then. But she needed time, and he gave her as much as he could offer, all while still playfully flirting, even if she didn’t always respond in the way he would’ve liked. She could’ve used him and tossed him aside like yesterday’s trash, treated him as if he were a stranger and stomp on his heart with a pair of six inch stilettos. And still, he would’ve come back for more. Addicted was too accurate a word, but still not accurate enough. It’s why she was the first person he went to when his house “flooded”. Why he’s never moved out. And why he’s certain the only way he’d ever leave her is if he were forced out by fate.

He stared up at his ceiling fan that morning and prayed for maybe the second or third time in his life. He prayed for world peace, for world hunger to end, and for his feelings for Vanessa to be openly reciprocated – or for his own to finally be burned in the fiery pits of hell. He didn’t necessarily mean the last part, but at the same time, it’s something he felt he needed to get off his chest.

As he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, he saw Nikki in the hallway. She was leaning against the frame of her door, one leg crossed over the other, only wearing a fitted green tank and her matching green and white polka-dot, high-waist panties, all while brushing her teeth. When she saw Maurice staring at her, she yanked the brush out of her mouth and sneered.

“I thought you were already gone to work?” she said.

“When have I ever gone into work this early, Nicole?”

“I don’t know, I just never see you when you wake up.”

“That’s because you sleep until noon every day, until you have to go to ‘work’ or one of those lame acting classes. Watch out.”

He moved past her and went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror for a long moment, rubbing the stubble down his face to his chin and neck, and reached for his razor, nearly tipping the orange cup it had set in into the sink. Nikki walked in and lay back against the wall. He saw her in the mirror and rolled his eyes a little.

“Can I help you with something, Sanger?”

“What was that noise coming from your room yesterday?” she asked. “It got louder and louder, like a dying animal had made its way under your bed.”

“I had a woman tied to it with an apple in her mouth. And she wasn’t dying. She was aroused.”

She made a pained face and rattled her head. “You really are disgusting.”

“Vanessa said something similar.”

“Whatever she said, it was right.” She crossed her arms and leaned her head, staring at him as he dumped water and cream on his face and began shaving.

He became annoyed at her overall presence, but remained concentrated. “Why are you up so early?” he asked.

“Audition. It’s for a small role in an indie film and they don’t pay much, but it’s a start. All the greats started somewhere.”

“All the greats had talent, which you lack.”

“You’re such a dick, Maurice. You always have been. It’s like if no woman is Vanessa she doesn’t deserve any kind of respect from you.”

“I respect you, Nikki,” he said, rinsing the remainder of shaving cream from his face. “I respect you as a woman and as my roommate.” He pat his skin down with a dry towel and then turned to look at her. “I just don’t like you very much, and never have.”

“Why is that? After all these years, I’ve never understood what your problem is with me.”

“I think you’re a moocher and a user. And a slight phony too, but that’s beside the point. Since we were kids, you always seemed to only do for those who did for you, no more, no less. You never went out of your way for anyone because you wanted to.”

“That’s not true.”

“I think it is. I think you’re only staying in Vanessa’s house because you’re too damn lazy to buck up and get a real job like the rest of us and support yourself. And I think that you refuse to do that because you’d have to admit that you suck at acting. This ‘dream’ you’ve had ever since you ‘came out of the womb’ as you always put it isn’t going to happen overnight, but still you’ve managed to convince yourself and whatever idiot is paying for these worthless classes that you’re the next Meryl Streep. You might be better looking, you might have a much better body and great tits, but you don’t have the talent. There’s a reason she’s up there winning all of those awards, and why you’re always in your pajamas watching from home.”

She reached up and smacked him hard across the face. He clinched his jaw and flared his nostrils as his face reddened a little.

He exhaled deep and swallowed hard. Her eyes welled.

“You’re such a misogynistic pig.”

“I’m gonna let that slide because we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends! You just stood here and told me that not only am I talentless, but I’m a moocher who lives off my friends, and you don’t even like me as a person.”

“I never said I didn’t like you as a person. I just think you could be a better one, is all. And that’s what friends do, tell each other the truth.”

She wiped her face of a fallen tear and stepped back. “Is that how it is? We tell each other the truth? Like say, you’re never going to get another shot in hell with Vanessa because she sees you for what you truly are? And she realizes after trying time and again to give you the benefit of every doubt imaginable that you really are nothing she’s ever wanted? You’re not the dream, you’re not even the fantasy. A white picket fence in Connecticut, two dogs in the yard, with two newborn babies in a crib. That isn’t you, it never will be. So what makes you think that staying here long past your expiration date like a carton of clumpy, sour milk will ever change that?”

Maurice sat back and thought of the harshness of her words. There was a part of him that knew there was a possibility that Nikki was right, he was wasting his time in believing Vanessa would ever come to him on her own. But a bigger part of him, a much bigger part of him didn’t want to believe it. That part wanted to believe that it was possible. That she would come to him; that she would one day see him as the man he genuinely was, not the one he always pretended to be to mask his truth. That’s the man Nikki always saw, because it was the only one she ever cared to get to know.

“Are you waiting for an apology?” she asked after realizing he’d had no response.

He arched his brows, appearing surprised. “Are you?”

“Not in the least. Not from you.”

“Same here. It was evident you meant what you said.”

“So did you, Mo! Don’t act like some kind of victim of unwanted torture.”

He grunted. “Nicole. I was only giving you my opinion on how I saw things, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

“I didn’t know it was something you had to try so hard at.”

“It’s almost as easy as you getting a real job.”

She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

“Flat out,” he continued, “I think the way you sometimes treat Vanessa can be trashy. You seem to put yourself and your problems above hers more often than not. The way you treat me is…” He shrugged.

“Justified,” she retorted.

He breathed out harshly and glared at her. “It can be unreasonable from time to time.”

“Unreasonable? What’s unreasonable is that you think I’m just some talentless hack who’s been wasting my time all these years and using my best friend in the process because deep down I know I’m never going to make it.”

“It’s not unreasonable to think it,” he answered. “Because it’s a fact. I think you could make it if you really wanted it, even being as talentless as you are. The least talented people in entertainment are often the ones who make the most money. If you remember, my dad used to represent some of those people in court. Worst talent in the business, but there was never a limitless supply of checks coming in from all over the globe because he managed to make their unreasonable cases, reasonable. But in your case, the only check I ever see coming in is the one from the barista shop. And maybe from whatever sugar daddy you’ve got on your payroll.”

She shook her head and turned from him.

“Overall, I think you’re scared,” he said. “No matter what you seem to project, I see right through it. You’re afraid of failing big, so you don’t even bother to try. Instead, you audition for indie films that no one will ever see, and for plays in small clubhouses that people wouldn’t go to for free, let alone pay for.” He paused. “When I took you to the clinic, I thought you were at your bravest. Not because of what you had done, but because you were so damned determine to do it all on your own. It was the first time I had ever seen you step up and take charge of anything. You didn’t want a child, and so you took care of it in the only way you saw fit. You want a career in the spotlight, and you’re doing it half-assed.”