Chapter 4: Something to express

"It's my turn to be designated tonight," Kate said, smiling without a care. She could be designated or not, and she would be perfectly content.

"We can call a cab and pick up Kate's car later, that way we all go in one car." Joan suggested.

"Says the one with the rich husband! I'm broke. No cab," I grinned.

Joan stuck out her tongue.

"Speaking of, how's that quarterback doing?"

Racheal asked.

"He does me well enough, thank you.”

"Jeez. How graphic," Kate chuckled.

I was cracking up by the car, holding my purse to my chest as I all but shook.

"Thatta girl. I was kidding, by the way. We can split a cab so Kate isn't sidelined, but I'm not getting too crazy. We can't all be a mess at once."

"Always the brain," Racheal winked, and Joan made a quick call to a cab as we waited.

We were at the bar a half an hour later, each one of us nursing a different drink. I was content with a mojito for tonight, and limited myself to only two glasses.

Racheal had downright terrified me with her news earlier tonight, and I needed my judgement clear if I was to tell her what was in my head.

Later that night when she, Kate, and I were the only ones left in the car ride home, I looked at her.

Smiled softly. It was hard to start speaking when I had no place to start.

I cleared my throat and said the first thing that came to mind. "You're like my sister, Racheal."

"Same here, girlie."

"That's why I need you to be careful. People like Fred, they can be unstable,and convincing. Just don't let yourself feel trapped. And don't let him change you. If even for one second you feel something, you know I'm here. Just pick up the damn phone. Call any of us and I know we'll run to you. If he's changed, then I'll personally apologize to you for doubting him."

She nodded, trying to seem lighthearted with a feigned smile.

I tried my hardest to open the door quietly when I made it to the front porch, but the lights had been on and everyone in the house was wide awake, nestled in front of the television as they watched a movie.

The smell of sweetness lingered around me, so I followed it to the kitchen. It seemed my brother had gotten creative and baked a batch chocolate chip cookies, from which I took two of the largest.

There were footsteps approaching, so I turned around to find my dad scoping the refrigerator.

"Guess who I got to have a good chat with today," he spoke. "Nearly an hour, too. Nice to talk to an old friend every now and then."

"Who?" I asked, knowing all too well.

"James."

"You talk to him all the time, dad," I said, smiling.

"How are they up there?"

"Well enough. Better than that, I'm guessing.

Leon really brought up the company since he took charge."

"He's always been a good businessman," I murmured, my tongue suddenly heavy. "They're a good team.”

"I wouldn't say team. Leon’s been taking in the reins, and in his mid 2os!" My dad roared, laughing. Then he sobered up, seeming to be thinking of something, and shrugged. "James is kind of beat up lately, it's good that Leon’s taking on a bigger position.”

I listened, just a little uncomfortable. But my face gave nothing away.

"I'm thinking of looking at an apartment soon," I began. "It's small, but clean and affordable. I think-“

"You should focus on your studies. Just two more years and you'll have the master's. You can stop there or keep going if you want. You're never a bother to us here, just as long as you're making your future, Emilia. We don't mind."

"I know, dad. I just want to be out of your hair. I'm twenty years old and I think maybe it's a better idea if I become more independent, not have to lean on you for support."

He shook his head, adamant. "We're family. That's what we do. Support. But if an apartment is what you want, we can go looking for some. We'll help you get on your feet until you're good on your own.

And if you need to come back you know where we.”

I smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, dad. You're the very best."

"Go on up and rest."

"That rhymed," I winked.

And left my dad laughing, taking the stairs carefully, quickly, until I was alone again.

***

I had been moody all day, and I couldn't find a reason for it, yet I wasn't about to let it ruin my performance at the lounge tonight. Not when working was so important to me, and the only way in which I would earn enough money to find my own apartment.

So I went downstairs for a good cup of coffee and returned only to prepare myself, showering and waving my hair accordingly. I painted my lips a cold red and perfected my face as much as I could.

My dress was black, classic, and it hung just above my knees, clinging tastefully to my curves. The heels I chose matched my mouth, and my earrings were simple cubic studs.

I was set. Old glamor and professionalism, the makings of any troubled singer.