Chapter 10 - Valentina
1836 Words
Valentina
Manhattan, New York, United States 2019 - autumn
Buying cocaine from Aleksi is not how I planned my first day of November to go. But, in my defense, I nearly fell asleep in the club yesterday after driving for four hours down to New York.
Get to The Plaza, get dressed, get ready to drink, do it all night, and then be ready to do the same tomorrow. It’s just not possible for a normal human being who has done a lot of self-care and going to sleep early for the past three months.
Raisa had left with Matteo at some point during the night and Aleksi told me that he’d sleep in her bed. Before we went to sleep that early morning, I asked him if he could get me a gram of coke for tomorrow night. All he did was nod, say goodnight, and close the door to his room.
We met in the kitchen after I woke up at three and Aleksi placed a baggie on the kitchen table before I handed him a hundred-dollar bill.
“It’s eighty.”
“Really? I thought it went for a hundred.”
“Yes, but you’re my friend.” He told me and I nodded.
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”
He left an hour later, and I was left alone for a couple of hours, so I decided to take a bath with a glass of champagne and smoke a joint.
It’s been a long time since I’ve bought drugs.
The door to the suite shuts and I stand still, putting out the joint in the ashtray by the tub.
“Raisa?” I yell, gathering some foam to cover up my body.
“YES!?”
There’s a loud noise, then silence, then footsteps coming down the hall and Raisa opens the door, smiling. She looks tired, but happy.
“How was it?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Ugh, so good. Maybe the best s*x of my life.” She sighs and looks at herself in the mirror. “I look like shit.”
“I’ll be done in fifteen, you can take a bath if you want.” I suggest. I wouldn’t mind getting a nap in before going to the club. Plus, with the cocaine already scored, falling asleep wouldn’t be a problem at Isabella’s birthday.
“I’ll actually do that, thanks.” She smiles. Then she inhales. “Did you smoke weed in here?”
“Um…maybe.”
***
I chose a black cutout minidress (mainly because I brought four options with me and two were halloweeny) for the club, even though I usually avoid wearing tight dresses, because then I must wear heels.
No one forces me to wear heels, but my mother would shake her head if she saw me going out in a dress with sneakers on. I’ve always admired her beauty and femininity. She had me when she was young, at twenty-two, and doesn’t even look thirty even though she’s 42 now.
When I was younger, I would sit on her bed before bedtime and just watch her sitting by the vanity table doing her nighttime routine. She had loads of creams and perfumes on show, but I rarely ever saw her putting makeup on. I saw her spend twenty minutes from start to finish washing her face in the bathroom, sitting down in front of the mirror, and applying what I would call “magic potions” when I was seven years old.
Now that I think about it, they were sort of magic potions, because they kept her from ever aging. She’s always looked the same to me. When I asked her about it a couple of years ago while on the beach during summer, she told me that the secret to looking young is being young inside.
“A lot of women start wilting away as they grow older because they take on everyone else’s burdens and forget to take care of themselves first.”
“But isn’t that selfish?” I asked, putting down my book.
She laughed. “Honey, taking care of yourself first and being selfish are two different things. When you’re selfish, you don’t want anyone to have what you have. When you take care of yourself first, you’ll be able to give and receive more.”
When it came to staying young, she explained that keeping in touch with your femininity was of utmost importance.
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“You can start by dressing more feminine.” She answered and I rolled my eyes. This has been an ongoing back and forth with her since I became a teenager; her telling me to dress more feminine everywhere we went. So what if I liked jeans and t-shirts more than dresses and skirts?
She was never out of line per se, but as a teenager it made me self-conscious about my appearance. Years later, I agree with her theory about keeping in touch with your feminine side, but I would never let her know that.
This brings me back to why sneakers don’t go with tight dresses, or dresses in general. Sometimes it looks good, and I go for it, but if I’m not 100% sure about the match then I’ll choose heels. They might feel uncomfortable, but I always use a numbing spray before putting on heels which makes it easier to stand around all night (also one of my mother’s tricks).
I match the dress with a pair of black heels and grab one of my favorite leather Chanel handbags that looks like it froze from outside-in.
“How are you doing your makeup?” Raisa asks, coming in with her makeup bag. “Um…nude, I think.”
“I forgot my eyeliner at college.” She whines and sits down on my bed. “Do you have one?”
“I don’t have eyeliner, but I have a black pencil.”
“Oh, that’s good too.”
We don’t talk for a while as we both get dressed, but I can tell that whatever happened between her and Matteo last night is giving her extra energy. I’m happy for her; I feel like it’s the first time she’s been happy since her father died.
Raisa’s done way before me, mainly because I cannot decide on which shoes would go better with the dress, so when she asks if I’d mind her going earlier, I don’t hold it against her. I end up leaving twenty minutes after her anyway.
The queue is almost two blocks long, which is insane. The taxi drops me off right out front, which means that we must walk all the way to the back. And to top it all off: it’s raining, so I have to use Isabella’s gift bag as an umbrella.
It takes forty minutes until I flash my fake ID to the bouncer and finally get inside, away from the rain and the loud car noises outside. Forty minutes which seemed like an eternity, not because of the rain but because of the small baggie burning a hole in my bra.
The same two blonde girls from last night are sitting behind a tall marble table after the entrance.
“That will be fifteen.” One of them says, looking at me while chewing her gum, seeming unimpressed by life.
“Oh, no. We’re here for a birthday party, we’re at table one.” I tell her.
“Name?”
“Valentina.”
The other one, who also looks younger and livelier, looks me up and down while Chewy still stares, still unimpressed. She looks down at the paper on the table in front of her. “I don’t see your name.”
“Fine, a ticket then.” I say, taking the cash out of my wallet and placing it in front of them.
“Wait, you need your stamp!” Chewy tells me when she sees us stepping away.
I smile at her. “No thank you.” Then I see the neon bracelets in their boxes and the banner, promoting green as single and red as taken. I take the red one because it's red and struggle to put it on my wrist as I walk towards the entrance of the actual club.
As expected, I spot Vinnie the moment the VIP area comes into view, talking to Matteo. The bodyguard stops me when I try to step into the area.
“I was here yesterday.” I tell him, and I know he knows, but he doesn’t let any emotions show on his face. “I’m here for Isabella’s birthday, she’s my friend.”
“It’s fine, she’s with us.” Vinnie says and takes the rope off one of the ends.
“Get her a bracelet.” Matteo says, and I smile at both, a wave of relief suddenly washing over me.
The bodyguard looks at me for a second and takes a shiny bracelet with today’s date written on it out of his pocket. There’s a glint in his eyes that tells me he’s just putting up a tough guy front because he gets paid well and is loyal to his bosses.
“Next time, just tell the girls at the entrance that you’re at table 1.” Matteo tells me as I set my bag down on the couch but making sure to not forget about the gift.
“I told them, but they asked about me and they told me they can’t do anything.”
“That’s weird.” Vinnie ponders. “I’ll talk to them.”
“It’s no big deal, I’m here now, but thank you.” I tell him and grab an energy drink from the bucket out of habit before I excuse myself and go off to find Isabella.
“Happy birthday!” I say, hugging her from behind.
She’s excited to see me so we step away from the crowd to talk more privately. I hand her the gift bag and she happily takes out what I put in there. There are three books, all of them mentioned by her in the past few months, one of them being a book for our joint course, which is hard to find.
“You’re the best, oh my GOD!” she exclaims, hugging me again. Out of the corner of my eye I see Matteo looking at me while talking to Vinnie, and my instinct tells me he might be asking Vinnie about me.
I’ve seen him around campus a couple of times since I started my first year, and after every time, I forget that he exists. It seems as though everyone around me knows him personally, has some history with him, or at least knows of him. I don’t know exactly what’s weird about it but I’m usually very aware of my surroundings and he’s somehow managed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
It's weird.
- Writer
