No Strings Attached

"...for your hands to attract sand, it has to be wet..."

Deborah Barnico drove through the big gate towards the building of the big family estate where she grew up. She killed the engine of the car and removed the seatbelt. Her hands, still on the steering wheel, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The chauffeur opened the door and walked up to the car. He knocked on the glass and Debbie raised her head. She wound the glass down and smiled.

"Beautiful afternoon, Ms Barnico. Is everything alright?"

"Nothing I cannot handle Monsieur Charppe. I just need a minute."

"What would you like to eat, Ms?"

"The best food the chef has to offer," she smiled.

"As you wish," Monsieur Charppe smiled and walked away. She placed her head back on the wheel and sighed. The family house held so many memories, some she wanted to forget and some she wished she could go back and redo them. She opened the door. She closed the door behind her and walked to the front door which was opened by Monsieur Charppe. He bowed his head and she smiled and went up the stairs. She moved her hands on the rails, looking around. So much had changed since she left the house at sixteen with her first love John. It caused a drift between her, her father, brother and aunt and eventually, she stopped hearing from them altogether. She walked to her room and opened the door with the key she had. It was exactly how she had left it ten years ago. She walked to the window. It was facing the orchid, the vast land of trees neatly planted and arranged, the gazebo and ponds. The furniture and bedsheet in the room were dust-free. She sat on the bed and rubbed her hands on the sheet.

"Glad you love my cleaning," an elderly lady around her sixties stood by the door, dust brush in her hand. She smiled and Debbie smiled back. She got up and went to hug the woman. She held her tight and sighed.

"How many years has it been Senorita Lopez?"

"Long enough to know that you have been missed. The last time I saw you, you were leaving with__what was his name?"

She smiled. "John."

"What happened to him anyways? Are you married?"

"Things did not work out with John as I thought they would. I was in love Senorita and he was my first love. We both found out that our priorities did not align; besides, we were children. It's in the past now. How is my brother?"

"You know how he is. He is always in his room or the library or out. He is so busy at such a vibrant age darling. Both of you need a vacation. Are you hungry? What should we serve you?"

"A plate of roasted autumn vegetables with Lancashire cheese and a glass of syrah wine."

"Make that two," they heard as Sam walked into the room. Senorita Lopez bowed and walked out of the room. Debbie sat on the chair by the window. She watched two birds perch on the orchid tree and then fly away together.

"So what's this about you being single and turning into a pope?" she giggled and looked outside again, observing the gardeners trimming the shrubs. Debbie waved at Josh, one of the staff and he smiled back.

"I have a business to run, a family to take care of. Love is not exactly my priority. Besides, I've been down that road before. You know how it is," he sat on her bed.

"Classic of my brother to remind me of my failed puppy love," she played with her fingernails, "The difference between me and you Sam is responsibility. I have all the time in the world to be and live free. You on the other hand are now the breadwinner of this family. By the way, what happened to that lady you met at the dance all gala night a year ago?"

"We had a phone conversation and a first date which appeared to be the last date."

"What did you not do wrong?"

"Very funny. I might have made a joke about the colour of her skin."

"You called a black lady black to her face?" she laughed hard. "That's being a racist genius."

"It was supposed to be a joke and even if I wanted to apologize to her, I cannot. She left for her home two months later. She emailed me."

"Were you afraid that our father would not approve?" she picked a strawberry from the basket and bit into it. She nodded at the combination of wine and strawberry all mixed up in her mouth.

"I don't know. I felt that way about a certain somebody before her. I guess I was afraid of our father analysing my judgement in choosing a woman and criticizing her social status. He always said Class is everything," both of them mimicked together and giggled.

"If things had gone differently, would you have asked her on a second date?"

"I would. She was different from a regular black lady you'd meet here. I found her respect a bit appalling at the time but then again, no woman had ever respected me that way before and she didn't know anything about me. She was like a puzzle that had a piece not fitting and the only piece left."

You have your puzzle solved then. Send her an email. Apologize to her and pick up where you left off. How hard could it be?"

Senorita Lopez came into the room. "Lunch has been served."

"Thank you, Senorita. Shall we?" She got up and Sam did as well.

"Hello. Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Ibom Air Customer Service. How may I assist you please?" the customer care agent said on the phone.

"Thank you. Please I want to know how much your flight from Lagos to Uyo is. I have been checking if you have an app but I haven't seen it on Playstore."

"Currently, we do not have an app. We have a website www.ibomair.com. Our current selling fare on our economy class of service is N23,000.00 for 1:45pm and to make a reservation for you, I'll need your name and your date of travel."

"Okay. My name is Selah Johnson. S e l a h," she spelt her name. "18th November is the date of travel."

"Your phone number please."

She called it out and repeated it for clarification.

"Your email address as well." The agent inputted the email address and called out the reservation details for her to confirm it was accurate. She gave her the procedures for making the ticket payment.

Selah followed the procedures on how to make the payment on the website.

"How will I know if the payment has been received?"

"When your payment is successful, the booking reference__confirmation code will be sent to your email address."

Selah paused for a minute, looking at her phone as the payment went through. The confirmation code was given to her. "I have received a code__," she mentioned it and the customer care agent concurred. "Thank you so much. You made it so easy. What is your name, please?" she asked.

"My name is Millicent ma'am."

"Thank you, Millicent. Will I see you when I get to the airport? I'd love to say thank you in person. I was having a rough day but you have eased my mind."

"I am glad to be of service but I am currently at the call centre so it would not be possible to see me at your time of arrival. However, if you need further assistance when you arrive at the airport, our customer care agents would be glad to assist you with whatever you need."

"Thank you, dear."

"Thank you for choosing Ibom Air. Do have a wonderful day." The call ended.

"Thank you Monsieur Charppe for lunch. I missed your cooking," she patted the back of his palm as he smiled and picked up the plates.

Sam cleaned his lips and dropped the napkin on the table. He adjusted his tie and looked at his sister as she talked on the phone, smiling. He remembered her being so beautiful and innocent, quiet and somewhat shy. He couldn't place his finger on why the one place she found peace and happiness became her worst nightmare, the father she had looked up to became the most hated. Debbie twisted her hair and kept talking on the phone. Sam's thoughts were drawn back when his phone rang.

"Excuse me," he beckoned to Debbie who nodded nonchalantly on the phone.

"Millie," he called her.

"Ms Denara is here sir. She has been demanding to see you."

Sam cursed. He had forgotten about the date with Katia. "Thank you, Millie. Do me a favour," he added. He asked her to check up on nice and quiet restaurants for lunch, okay? I'll call her."

He dialled Katia's number and rubbed his forehead. He recalled when he first met Katia at a masquerade ball hosted by her father to celebrate the partnership between Centor Company and Barnico Wines Company. She was so beautiful and quiet. She was dressed in a black sequin gown with angel wings mask. He was captivated by her smile. When it was time to dance, he walked up to her and stretched his hand. She gracefully took it and they both danced the whole night. She dropped her number in his breast pocket and walked out through the back door. He took it as an invitation and followed her.

"Hello," Katia yelled from her end.

"Hey. Katia I'm sorry. Millie called."

"I asked for lunch, a way to apologize and you stood me up?"

"Calm down Katia. My sister came home and I needed to spend time with her and__" he was cut short.

"Your sister? What about me Sam? Am I not important to you? Your sister comes home and you ditch me?" she scoffed. "You're so unbelievable."

"I'll come to pick you up okay? Go home and I'll be there as soon as possible." he ended the call and walked back to the table.

"From the look on your face, I'd bet $1,000 that it was your psycho girlfriend," she laughed and Sam mimicked her with a frown.

"I'm ending the relationship tonight," he sat down and adjusted his shirt sleeves.

"It took you two years of dating her, meeting the black lady and grovelling back to her to come to this world-renowned intelligence of leaving her? You are indeed a genius at work and terrible at what Rihanna would say is "stupid in love." She got up. "I've got to go. I have a film set to get to. You should come to watch me sometime. I could get you in."

"I'd love that. It was good seeing you again Debbie. Aunt Martha would be pleased if you pay her a visit. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

She nodded, hugged him and walked towards the door. She stopped, took two steps backwards and went to where the master pendulum clock was positioned. Her father adored the furniture and would be seen polishing it himself. Once, when she was eleven years old, she heard it chime. Excitedly, she ran down the flight of stairs to where the clock stood. Amazed by the swinging pendulum, she wanted to know if touching it would stop it from swinging. She was right and wrong at the same time. It stopped swinging and it brought her father out of his secret library. He was so furious that he pulled her towards her room and locked her inside the entire day. Senorita Lopez had Josh the gardener crawl up her window with a ladder to give her food. Debbie looked at the clock again and with a smirk, moved the pendulum back and forth as it chimed loudly. Flashes of her father dragging her to her room resurfaced. She closed her eyes and tried to fade them away.

"Our father would have had a fit if he saw you doing this," Sam walked up to her. She shook and shifted for him. He stood and watched the pendulum swinging. Debbie smiled.

"The great Gerald Barnico. I hope he can hear it chiming. He can use the rhythm to roll in his grave," she stormed out. She got to her car and stood to catch her breath. The mention of Gerald Barnico always threw her into a fit. Her heart would start racing and images she could not place right would flash through her mind. She opened the car door and sat inside. Sam came outside as well and walked to his car. He honked as he pulled from the driveway. She honked as well and followed behind.

"I'm coming," Katia yelled as she covered her nightwear with her robe. She opened the door and Sam waved. Katia stepped aside for him to walk in. She stood by the door and waited for him.

"First of all, I'm sorry Katia for standing you up. As I said, Debbie came around and I haven't seen her since our father's funeral one year ago yesterday. You wouldn't remember that because everything is about you."

"Really? Fine then. My turn," Katia walked past him to the bar table at the corner end of the living room. She poured herself a glass of bourbon. "I am your girlfriend Sam. I have loved you and done what would make you happy. I deserve to be happy in this relationship as well and you treat me like I'm some girl you picked on the road. Debbie has always been the black sheep of your family. You said so yourself. You know she hates me and she doesn't hide it. I need you in my life, Sam. Can't that count for something?"

"Debbie is my only sister and clearly, you don't know what that feels like. You know what Katia, I don't think we make a good pair. I love you but you have a tendency to change on people who don't agree with your whims and bullshit."

"Name one instance," she clapped back.

"Your driver. I have seen the way you speak to him when he's late to pick you up. I have been to your father's house and you talked to the chauffeur like he was a pauper. I__"

"How would they learn to obey if you don't make an example of them?" she dropped the glass and walked up to him.

"Compassion, Katia and you don't have that. You're sorry when you mess up but condemn another when they do same. I'm sorry but this has to end."

"Did Debbie put you up to this? She has filled your head with thoughts of leaving me for someone else, right? Well I have news flash for you Sam. I am the best there is out there. I am a lady with class and reputation. What do you think our social class will say when you pick a tramp on the street over this," she touched her breast and face.

"That is the last time you will talk about my sister the way you please," he walked towards the door and turned, "and yes, you're right. I won't find someone else; I'll find someone better than you. We're done." He walked to the door. Katia followed suit and blocked his way.

"Sam, let's talk about this, please. I am sorry, okay? I can do better. Let's go on a vacation, couples therapy; anything you need me to do and I'll do it. I love you, Sam," she hugged him. Sam sighed and gently pulled her from the embrace.

"I wish I could love you the way I loved you but I can't; not anymore. Do the things you loved doing before we met. Go out, party, make friends, get a new social app, I don't know. I just need this to be over."

"You'll regret leaving me Sam," she stepped aside and cleaned her eyes.

"I'm regretting it already," he responded sarcastically and walked out, Katia slamming the door behind him. Sam smiled as he drove through North Park Ave towards the animal shelter Amara worked. He hadn't seen her since he started a relationship with Katia. He regretted not standing up to his father against arranged engagements. His only problem was if Amara would be willing to give him a chance again after he stood her up and apologized with a text. He bit his lips. Who was he kidding? Any lady who had such charisma as Amara would not even give him another chance. Still, it was better to try, he said to himself.

He killed the engine of the car in front of the shelter and got out. He breathed a sigh of relief. The lights were out in the shop but her office lamp showed she was still in the office. He could see her shadow. Sam got out of the car and walked to the entrance door. With the stem of the faux rose in his hand, he summoned courage and walked to the door of her office. The lamp was on and so were scented candles and a table of blistered snap peas with brown butter and chives and chicken saltimbocca with buttery parsley noodles, homemade crab cakes. She was dressed in a blue gown with tiny glittering stones adorning the sides all the way to her cleavage. She was startled and turned when she heard him clear his throat.

"Sam," she adjusted her glasses, "what are you doing here?"

"Are you expecting someone?" He looked at the rose in his hand. Amara looked at him and moved to the other side of the table to adjust the tablecloth and the wine bucket and glasses.

"I am," she walked back to him, "and now's not a good time to stop by."

"I mean no trouble, Amara. I have been thinking about you since the last time I saw you at my father's funeral. I realized I shouldn't have stood you up. I was afraid to feel something for you and when I finally found the courage, I withdrew again. You have no idea how much I want to be with you. You have been on my mind and I want to make things right." He stretched the flower to her and she took it.

"Thank you for telling me this but I'm afraid it's too late Sam. I mean, I waited for you and you played with my feelings. I'm sorry but you have to leave," she stepped out of the office and looked through the window at moving cars.

"Please Amara, don't walk away. I know it took me a year and a stupid relationship to realize that I needed you in my life."

"You need to leave Sam," she insisted, walking back into her office.

"Amara, please__"

"I believe the nice lady asked you to leave," Sam heard a voice behind him. He turned and saw a young man, two or three years older than him with a bouquet of flower varieties. The young man walked to the office door and Amara met him by the door.

"You look so beautiful," he kissed her cheeks and stood beside her. She smiled and got the flowers he handed her. Noticing Sam's discomfort, she moved a bit from him.

"Noah, this is Sam, a friend of mine. Sam, this is Noah, my boyfriend," she introduced them both. Noah removed his hand from his pocket, stretched his hand to shake Sam who reluctantly obliged then placed his hand on Amara's waist and pulled her close. Sam sensed the behaviour of an alpha male from Noah and knew it was not his territory anymore. He blamed himself for being a coward and caring about what his father would think about her work and social status.

"I am happy for you both," he smiled and patted Noah on the shoulder. Walking closer to Amara, he hugged her and kissed her cheek. He whispered into her ear.

"Be good to her, okay?" he turned to Noah and headed for the door. Amara bit her lips and blinked her eyes to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

"Shall we?" Noah nudged her. She nodded with a smile.

Katia cleaned the tears that hung on her cheeks. Her mascara had drained from her upper and lower lashes, staining her cheeks. Her eyes were swollen. She got up from the stool at the bar, downed the glass of bourbon and picked up her phone. She dialled a number and waited for the receiver to respond.

"Nax," she called him, "I have an assignment for you."

"Name, home address or car plate number if you want it as a hit and run."

"I need you to burn the house to the ground," she poured herself another glass of bourbon.

"Done. Who is it this time?"

"Amara Penn."