Episode 4

Present day.

“You can never go wrong with a hug from the right person at the right time for the right reason.” Zipporah smiled when she thought of how true her mom’s famous statement was. Her mom would always say that to after giving her a long, warm hug. Most time Zipporah believed her mom’s hugs could cure her from any emotional distress. 

She swallowed the tears she felt brew in her throat then regarded her open spaced two bedroom apartment. It was expensively furnished courtesy of her father. Its ambiance was bright and cozy. Her parlor was painted white to match her cream, lace curtains. She had a grey couch facing her television and art decorated wall. Her mom was a collector and gave her a piece every birthday. At a secluded corner of the living room was an area she had created for work, now it was where she sat searching for work. The kitchen was a neat, organized view behind the living room. 

Sometimes she felt like an intruder in her apartment, like it was pre decorated to suit a person that wasn’t her. The only problem was that Zipporah wasn’t sure who she was meant to be and a part of her figured a job would help her discover what she sought. Her eyes skimmed through vacancy offers on sites and online magazines, she clicked on any that had her preference. 

Hours went by with her search, the coffee by her laptop grew cold as it watched her doze off. She began to loose the pins and band holding her hair bun in place, her curls began to fall down her shoulders, forehead and cheek. 

She shut her eyes and began to run her hand through her scalp. She massaged slowly and sighed lustfully when a lost memory sneaked in. His hands, rough and steady being gentle with her hair as he rubbed circles into her crown. She would sleep off in his arms and wake up in them. It was something he did to her when she was stressed, he would boast about casting out the demons in her brain with just his fingers and she would giggle happily. When last did she feel that good? The shrill ringing of her phone left her answer hanging to the universe. 

She answered, unwillingly. “Hello?”

“Hey babe, how did it go?” It was Collins and he didn’t sound pleased with her answer, “you still haven’t retrieved your contacts. Babe you got this phone a week a ago.”

She felt rebuked, “I have just been busy and I get mostly emails than calls, so it always skips my mind.”

He scoffed, “you should do the right thing at the right time.” She wished he would choke on his dismissive tone.

“Okay.” She conceded. She loved Collins but always as an elder brother that she never had or wished for. 

They grew up together, his father worked for hers and they were the little kids that were surely going to get married because they were best friends and straight. The Collins she had grown up with was less controlling and more opened to life. The business world had built him into a strict minded and unfriendly man which was sad because he sometimes reminded her of her father. 

After her mother’s death, their relationship began almost naturally like the universe mandated for it to happen. At first he was the shield and comfort he needed, he truly loved her and supported her but every time he kissed or touched her she felt nothing. He knew how she truly felt about him, yet on her twenty fourth birthday he proposed and in front of a crowd, she said yes. Her thumb rubbed the sparking piece on her finger, Collins had become a constant in her life even though sometimes she felt like he pitied her and nurtured her like a child than a full grown woman. In his eyes she feared she would always remain the little kid that played hide and seek with him at his parents’ formal parties. 

When her best friends asked her why she stayed with him, her answer was always the same. She trusted him to remain the same and to stay. She needed the constant and trustworthiness he offered to her being. 

“Zee, are you there?” Collins voice boomed into her ears.

“Yeah yeah, I’m here.” She shook her head to focus on his voice.

“So can you make it for the interview next week?”

“Um,” what interview? “Yeah sure, just send me a email me the necessary details.”

“Okay I will.” He paused like he was considering something, “and Zee, don’t think too much about what you’ve lost, okay? This disappointment will definitely be a blessing.”

“Dad told you.”

“Yeah he did. Don’t worry babe, I got you.” He sounded soft and comforting like he use to when they were teenagers and she went to him to cry about a fight with her dad.

Her lips curved into a relaxing smile, “I know you do. Thank you Con.” 

He assured her he’d call her later and ended the call. She stretched her legs from sitting for hours. Her bones craved ice cream so she strolled into her one woman kitchen and picked a mini sized bowl of chocolate flavor from the fridge. She was in the middle of digging when her phone rang again. She ate from the bowl as she walked to her phone, droplets from the cold bowl wet her peach tiles. 

“It’s not six yet. I’m in the middle of ice cream.” Her words came off muffled and babyish.

“Most girls are in the middle of more satisfying things, but you choose ice cream,” it was her other best friend, Isabella, her Mexican accent made her voice sound fruity. 

“Most girls have jobs.” Zipporah countered.

“Oh please get off your jobless ass, I’m not Alex, I won’t pamper you. . .”

“But whyyy?!” Zipporah whined, mouth still full of ice cream.

“Because I’ll get you drunk enough to forget your worries instead,” she hollered then added, “and before you give your flimsy excuse, we are on our way to your place. So you have thirty minutes to get clean.”

She laughed and almost choked on her ice cream, “what makes you think I’m dirty?”

Isabella scoffed, “because it’s the weekend and all you have planned is ice cream.”

“But Ice cream makes me feel good,” she poured into the bowl.

“I know boo! But alcohol will make you feel better. . .”

“. . .and a good man will make you feel the best!” Zipporah laughed when she heard Rose scream into the phone, her Nigerian accent filled up every word.

“You’ve got twenty-nine minutes bitch!” Isabella ordered before hanging up.

Zipporah couldn’t stop grinning at her phone. Her girls always had a way to make her feel excited about life. She scooped more ice cream into her mouth as she headed to the second room beside her bedroom which she transformed into a walk-in closet. 

When it came to club nights, her preferred her dress to always sparkle in the light. She could walk pass a disco bulb and people would still stare at her. She dropped the bowel on a stool then began to strip. The closet was all clothes, shoes, wigs jewelries. The pink colored walls popped with the purple colored wardrobe. At every corner that there wasn’t a fashion item, was tall, striking mirrors with lights as its frame. 

She braced her shoulders as she stood in front of a mirror. Her hands traced her body as her eyes graced through her slim neck down to her poised shoulders. Her breast were round and full which suited her thick laps and curvy waist. She was never the slim girl neither nor the chubby one. She was always in between and it showed in her fleshy tummy and full-figured bum. 

She played with her curls, they would match the dress she had in mind. She flipped through gowns and jackets then picked out a black, glittery mini gown. She held it in front of her with a mischievous grin on her face. The gown was fully covered in the front with only a ruffle by the neck. When she wore it in front of the mirror and turned around, she admired the long cutout that ended right above her waist. Her behind filled up the gown till it stretched. She oiled and touched up her hair as well as her face in fifteen minutes. She admired herself in the mirror with a glowing smile. She was wearing the second pair of her silver heel when her door was knocked. She clipped her buckle then picked up a nude purse. After filling it up with some cash, her card, phone and keys. She opened the door to Rose.

“How many hours to open a door this girl?” Rose lamented in a skimpy, green, side-slit dress. Zipporah grinned at her vanishing Nigerian accent and drew her in for a screeching hug. They broke off laughing then she turned to lock her apartment.

“But it’s not even twenty nine minutes yet.” Zipporah joked as they walked downstairs to the others.

“It feels like an hour, Alex won’t stop talking about her new Mexican dick, I give her five more seconds to drive Bella crazy.” And truth be told, once they entered the car the two were bickering so loud they didn’t notice them enter. Rose signaled for the driver to begin their ride while the argument of ethnic genitalia filled the jeep. 

The drive to the club was short and loud with the girls making snap videos and screaming rap lyrics at each other, their distraction was barely one of the reasons they did not notice the black motorcycle on their tail.