AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Part One
1
Casimira
Present-day
Manhattan, New York City
You know those pivotal moments in life, the moments that change your whole direction? Well, I've had more than I can count.
Each time has changed my life for the better. It may not appear that way at first, but I always find a way to make it benefit me. No matter how I look at my situation over my past twenty-four years on this weird energy plane called Earth, I see it in a good light. Even in those times when you are completely on the floor and you don’t think you’ll ever get back up again. Even then, when I look back I think about how those situations made me stronger, better, more determined not to let life break you. You need to break life, tear it in half, shatter it and rebuild until you like what you see.
So that's what I did. I saw the situation wasn't right, so I changed it. I moved from London to New York City. Upped and left to save myself. You have to be selfish sometimes. You have to put yourself first.
My phone screen lights up on the bed. My mum's name displaying on the screen. I snatch it up off the side. “Mum? What's wrong?” There’s absolutely no reason for her to be awake this late on a Saturday night.
“You need to stop panicking every time I call.” Her voice has that exhausted note I've become quite accustomed to recently.
“When you're calling me in the middle of the night, I'm going to panic. It’s a normal response.” I flop down on my bed, on top of the errant piles of clothing I’m yet to put away. “So go on, tell me what’s wrong.”
She sighs down the phone pausing briefly. I’m guessing to rub her temples; A signature move for old Nat. “Your brother is a nightmare.” Aleksy, again. I should’ve guessed really. “Woke the whole house up at 3 a.m. Damn near trashed the kitchen rooting through the freezer. Bloody peas and chicken nuggets everywhere.” I try to suppress the snort but don’t do so well. “It’s not funny!” She snaps, making me clamp my lips shut. “He’s been fighting, again, and I’m seriously worried about whoever he was fighting because he’s in a state. I can't imagine what the other guy looks like. He needs an x-ray on his hand but won’t let me take him to the hospital. Instead, he’s fallen asleep on the sofa drunk out of his mind.”
“You want me to speak to him?” I ask, grabbing my platforms from the shelves of shoes lining my wall and tucking them into my duffel bag.
She doesn't reply right away so that means yes. She just feels guilty asking me. “It’s bad. I’ve never seen him like this. He had this look in his eye and he was going on and on about responsibility and right and wrong. I can’t get any sense out of him. It’s just been getting worse for months now.” She takes a measured breath, her voice lowering with her next words. “He’s not said anything to you has he?”
“No.” I let out a sigh as I stand in front of the mirror opposite my bed to take a look at my appearance. Soft pink lips. Slight cat eye, smoked out of course. My gaze flits to the pictures taped to the edge of my mirror and the Polaroid of Aleksy, his middle finger up, joint hanging from his mouth at the top of Primrose Hill back in London. My brother has always been difficult. He's my twin. Identical twin. I know, very rare for identical twins to be opposite genders. We were even in the newspaper when we were born. It’s my claim to fame. He’s six minutes older and forever reminding me. It’s not out of character for my mother to pass the responsibility for him on to me, it’s just the way it's always been. I understand him better than she ever could. It works both ways, he brought me up. Dragged me up might be a better way of putting it if we’re being pedantic. We were like a pair of feral children. I eventually mellowed out. Alek on the other hand, hasn't.
“I’ll speak to him tomorrow. Okay?”
“Thanks love.” She takes a sip of whatever she’s drinking. “Are you definitely coming home for December? Or is there any way I can persuade you to come back earlier?”
I mouth ‘Oh my god’ at no one in particular as I pace the three-and-a-half strides it takes to cross my room alone. “I’ve been gone 9 months. I can’t afford to keep flying back and forth all the time.” For once in my lifeI definitely can afford it. “I’ll be back for Christmas, tickets booked and everything.” I pull out a pen from the cluttered vanity in front of my bed and scribble down on a scrap piece of paper to purchase said plane ticket tomorrow.
“Sorry babe.” She sighs. “I’m nagging. I don't mean it. I just miss you. We all do.” Her voice softens, coaxing that familiar feeling of guilt to crop up.
“I know, I miss you all too,” I assure her. I'm extremely family-oriented so no matter how hard I try, it’s still hard for me to be so far away from them.
The shrill alarm of my phone sounds right in my ear prompting me to drop the phone with a shriek.
My mum's muffled words sound as I grab the phone from the white fluffy rug and put it on speaker. “Shit, mum I’m actually late for work. I'm meant to be in the car already. Give Steve and the boys my love yeah?”
“Yeah of course. Be safe and drive carefully for god’s sake Casimira! Love you.” Dramatic.
I throw my bag over my shoulder, pulling my bedroom door shut behind me. “I’m always careful. Love you too.”
I hang up the phone and keep up my run all the way down to the street, unlocking my baby.
My new baby.
I have dreamt about this car since I was sixteen, sixteen. I cut pictures of it out of a magazine and taped them to my wall. I manifested the day I would walk into a BMW showroom and exit with my car. I promised myself that one day I would make her mine and I did. Bought her in cash. $80,856 if we want to get into the details of it and I worked hard to go into the details.
Call me materialistic all you want. I worked for that, blood sweat and tears. Seriously, I couldn’t tell you how many private dances I did to call that beauty mine.
BMW M4. 3.0 litre, Twin Turbo. She’s a monster. Black Sapphire paintwork, Black rims with Oyster leather interior. I’ve only had her for two weeks and every time I see her it still makes me giddy. I’ve been saving for six years since I turned 18 and started dancing at my first strip club back in London. It’s taken a little longer than it should have. Moving across the pond is spenny as hell. Even more so on such short notice.
I did well back in London but it’s got nothing on the money I get now in NYC. Back home you rarely got money for stage dances. You make most of your income through private dances and champagne rooms. Which is fine but I love being on stage. Getting money literally thrown at you is such a turn-on. The money is one of the many reasons I have no plans of ever moving home.
