As she walks into her bedroom and finds her clothes neatly put away in the large wardrobe, and a plate of food sitting atop her elegant champagne-colored duvet. The attempts to contain her excitement jumps fail as she puts on her baby blue silk pajamas and sits at her desk, beginning to dig in. She scrolls through her phone and decides to check Chitchat. She does a brief impromptu room tour for her friends, which she posts before slipping under the duvet and switching the lights off. While she continues scrolling through Chitchat, she checks her feed and sees that Fleur posted on her story. It’s her being embraced by a mystery figure, their identity too vague to deduce without clicking on it. The picture fills her screen, and upon further inspection, she sees that it’s Rurik who she’s being held by.
“Woah…when did they – oh…” she purses her lips, “that actually makes sense. Why him though Fleur? Out of all the guys in the universe, why him? How could someone so sweet settle for such an asshole? You could do so much better. You deserve so much better. What is it? What do you see?” she speaks to herself. As she goes to close the app, she notices there is more than one picture. The next one shows them both smiling wide, Rurik looking evidently happier than he ever was with Naira. She notices her heart pounding incredibly hard and her breathing quickens. “Good for you,” thinks to herself.
While not jealous, she’s unable to put a finger on what it is that’s making her feel so unsettled. Fleur isn’t the type of person that would do something like this to hurt Naira, and she had probably been keeping the fact that they were an item a secret out of fear it would make Naira upset. Though it was kind of obvious that she and Rurik cared for one another more than platonic friends normally do, it was obvious to everyone that wasn't Naira at least. She takes in the information, unsure of how she feels, yet knowing she feels happy for her Fleur. For her finding someone that makes her so visibly beatific. She shakes her thoughts out, leaves her phone on the nightstand, shuts her eyes, and goes to bed.
***
When her alarm goes off, she wakes almost immediately. She rubs her eyes and stands up, ready to take a shower and get to her duties. She puts on her clothes and does her makeup as quickly as she can. Her directions were clear, and she plans to make her second official day of work a productive one.
She stops at Kiran’s door to place the dishes on the cart and sees a purple light coming from under her door. “I should get some LEDs for my room too, it’ll be like my own disco! I'll ask her where she got them later,” she thinks to herself before moving along with the cart. She can faintly hear the sound of music, presumably from Kiran's earphones. She then makes out her humming. She leans a bit closer to the door and recognizes that it’s the song the pair listened to on the day of her interview. She smiles and moves on. While approaching Dean and Chae’s room, she can hear someone laughing loudly and lots of commotion. She tries to be as quiet as possible while picking up their dishes, hoping to understand what they’re so riled up about.
“I KNEW YOU HAD MY EYELINER!” Naira jumps, taken off guard by how aggressive Dean sounds.
“I’m just using it for a second. I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done,” Chae complains, clearly unphased by Dean’s attitude.
“Why didn’t you just ask for it in the first place?! And why’d you act like you didn’t know where it was, you thief?!” She then hears panicked footsteps. Suddenly, their door swings open and both Chae and Dean come barreling out of the room, crashing into the dish cart, just barely missing Naira. Looking into their room, Naira sees two large vats of water on opposite sides of the room. One of these vats is painted with graffiti, while the other is decorated with stickers and flower petals that line the rim of the vat. The blue light overhead ripples through the room simulating the ebb and flow of waves.
“See! Dude, you almost killed Naira,” Chae takes a breath, “you psycho.” He says while lying on the floor, chuckling as if this were his plan all along. Dean stands up looking at the ground to hide his red face.
“Hey, Naira,” he rubs the back of his neck, “sorry, we didn’t know you were out here. How are you?” Naira notices they aren’t wearing anything but underwear. “I never noticed how beautiful Merfolk scales are, they're so shiny!” she thinks to herself. She tries not to look down while answering Dean’s question, his iridescent skin reflecting the hallway's light.
“It’s cool, I’m okay,” she chuckles, “I’m just here to pick up the dishes. Don’t worry about it. Oh, and if you guys are short on eyeliner or anything, I’ve got an extra I can give you,” she smiles as she goes to retrieve the cart.
“Wow! At least someone has some compassion for the less fortunate around here,” Chae says as he stands up dusting himself off.
“No problem, just swing by my room. It's in the purple bag on my dresser,” she winks and laughs at the twins as she begins to push the cart.
“I’ll come with him to make sure that’s ALL he grabs,” Dean assures while scowling at Chae.
“Thanks, Dean. I’d appreciate that,” she lets out a last chuckle and moves on.
While Naira checks her sheet trying to find Wayra’s room, she gets distracted by mesmerizing singing coming from one of the rooms. She, almost involuntarily, pushes her cart in the direction of the singing. As she got closer, she could make out his words.
“Well, he died for his country,
And he died for his kin
And he died killin’ men
A most honorable sin
But them mean boys in blue
They done turned him in
When they laid him low
With a laugh and a grin.” His deep and southern drawl voice echoes, and the guitar he plays compliments the intoxicating voice perfectly. Naira walks closer and sees the door cracked slightly.
“Oh, who will bring back my Johnny Boy's bones
To lay ‘neath the trees of our Tennessee home
A box, a box made of sturdy white oak
With his arms folded up and his blue eyes all closed-” he suddenly stops singing.
“Well, hello there, Naira. Would you like to learn how to play?” Wayra asks as he sits his guitar down, without turning to look at her. She was sure she had been incredibly quiet, but then again, Were-folks were especially good at sensing others.
She hears his boots clicking against the floor as he walks toward the door. He opens it and looks down at Naira with a welcoming smile. “It’s alright, I can teach you some time if you want,” he offers in a warm tone, almost like how an adult would speak to a curious child.
“Sorry to interrupt, I just… Well, you've got a voice. That song was so cool. Did you write it?” She looks past him and into his room.
“Sadly, no. That’d be Colter Wall who wrote that masterpiece. But I do appreciate the compliment.” He bows his head. “I see you’re taking the dishes. I’ll go and get mine for you.” His door swings open as he goes to retrieve the dishes.
Everyone’s rooms seem to be an extension of their personality. Even in Chae and Dean's room, she could clearly tell whose side is whose. Wayra’s room is no different; it's incredibly Earthy. Books rest in various places, with sticky notes poking out in every direction. Rugs cover the wooden floorboards, and an open drawer filled with candles and incense decorate the room.
“Thanks,” she says as Wayra places the dishes on the cart, “and I’d love to learn, but I've gotta get these to the kitchen in a bit. Another time though?” She lets out a nervous grin.
“Some other time sounds great. I'd love to hear you sing,” Wayra adds, watching Naira walk away, then shutting the door.
“Alright, I've got a head start on the dishes. I should be able to put them in the dishwasher and take out the trash before I have to go upstairs,” Naira thinks to herself before she rolls up her sleeves. She grabs the bags of garbage, heaving them into the trashcan. She then rubs her hands together in an attempt to get the dirt off. Looking up at the sky, her sight gets washed by its gray hues. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the outside world, and within that same moment, she gets a feeling she hasn't felt in a long time, and couldn’t recognize. “Looks like rain,” she says while brushing off the feeling and pushing the cart back into the kitchen.
She takes the elevator up and walks to her desk. As she sits down, she notices the light above Asha’s door is still red, so she takes Kiran’s advice and plays a podcast. Interrupted by the static of the walkie-talkie, she takes her headphones out and listens. “You've got three guests headed your way, make sure the couch is clean and your station is tidy, Asha should be out to greet them in a few. Keep them busy in the meantime,” Kiran orders.
She felt her stomach turn. She wasn’t expecting visitors to come so early. She stands outside by the door, waiting for the guests while drying off the sweat on her hands against her blouse. She hears laughing and sees three figures approach her.
“Hello, you must be Asha’s lovely guests. You can come right in. Grab a seat, please. She'll be right with you in a second,” Naira welcomes them with the biggest smile she could hold, gesturing for the guests to sit on the couch. “Huh, I guess listening to Ms. Claridge do all that ass-kissing to the customers paid off,” she thinks to herself. As they walk in, she sees two men and a woman, who stare back at her, studying her from head to toe. Immediately, the shorter man and woman turned to look at one another, and let out laughter. Ignoring her, they push past her, and two of them sit on the couch. The larger of the three stands beside the couch, his hands tucked tightly into his black puffer coat. He easily stood over seven feet tall, and while his build certainly felt intimidating his eyes felt kind. She sits behind her desk, hoping to give this whole social butterfly thing a shot.
“How are you all today? Would you like any tea or water? We even have blood, if you’d prefer that,” she offers, smiling.
The woman stares at Naira with her fiery red eyes, as if she’d never seen a person before. Her black slip dress looks more expensive than Fleur’s car, and her eyes are low and seductive, her aesthetic reminiscent of a gun moll. The disinterested one sitting on the couch stops scrolling through his phone and looks up. “I think it’s talking to you, Monroe.” He says in a thick New Jersey accent before looking back down at his phone. Naira couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “It?” She thinks to herself, trying her best to keep a smile on her face. Monroe snaps out of it.
“Oh, no. We’re fine, we don’t really drink that stuff,” she explains, still looking at Naira like she can’t make out what she’s seeing. “Tell me, child, are you an Indian? Didn’t think there were any Indians living in Other towns,” Monroe interrogated Naira, making her chuckle confusedly. The woman’s piercing stare doesn’t flinch, making Naira notice she is deadly serious.
“No, she’s definitely a Mexican. I know one when I see one. Trust me,” the man on the phone affirms, not looking away from it. Naira’s smile fades for a second but remembers she has to remain professional.
“I’m Kuwaiti,” she corrects while looking down at her desk, knowing whatever they say next will not be nice.
They all look at each other in silence. “You mean like Osama?” The two sitting on the sofa burst into laughter, acting as if what Monroe just said was comedy gold. Naira stared at the standing man, who looked away from her, neither able to find amusement in it. Naira’s cheeks glow red as they continue laughing. “That was a serious question, you’re gonna make her cry,” Monroe interrupts before laughing harder.
As she bites the inside of her cheeks, she feels the tears crest her eyelids, unsure if from anger or embarrassment. Suddenly, the door to Asha’s office opens, and she takes a second to scan the room before speaking. She makes even the big guy in the corner look minuscule when standing beside her.
“Sorry for the wait, you may come in now,” Asha says, throwing a serious glare at them as they begin to walk past her. Asha gives Naira some tissues and softly speaks. “There’s no sense in holding it back, just don’t let them see you. Let it go,” she finishes, patting Naira’s back.
She shuts the door and the light above it turns red again, leaving a crying Naira, who sits not fully understanding what she even did to make them act so coldly toward her.
After drying her tears, she distracts herself by checking Asha’s agenda. The walkie-talkie hisses with static, startling her. “Hey, the cart for the guests is ready. I'll bring it to the elevator,” Chae lets her know.
As the elevator door opens, she grabs the cart filled with snacks, which looked quite odd and smelled even odder. She notices little teacups filled with steaming dark red liquids, some of them even shimmering with golden flakes. On a separate plate, she can make out pastries and believes she sees tiny decorative bones sticking from each of them. She thinks about picking one apart for further inspection but decides against it. Just as she pulls her hand away, the elevator dings.
When Naira arrives back at her office, she sees that the light above Asha’s door is off. She prepares to go in. “Just ignore whatever they say and keep smiling,” she thinks to herself.
“Where would you like these, Asha?” she asks, smiling and looking straight ahead, trying to avoid meeting the eyes of the trio.
“Aye, Mama. Roll those right over here, I'm starving. Give my compliments to the chef, those little fuckers can cook,” the man sitting down beside Monroe says. Asha nods as if giving Naira permission to follow his demands, and she contains the urge to roll her eyes. She moves the cart over to them, the room growing silent, her senses telling her everyone is staring at her. Despite her nervousness, she places the cart beside the man. “Enjoy,” she gives smile before heading toward the door, hoping desperately to escape.
“Naira, come here for a second darling.” She stops and turns around, meeting the scarlet red eyes of Asha.
Comments (0)
See all