Nikki
“These are so good, NikkiDix. I didn’t realize I had such a talented friend,” Trace says when she walks in my room and finds me working on some of the illustrations for the children’s book I’ve been writing for my creative writing class. Doing my own illustrations is taking care of two birds with several colored pencils, so to speak, since I’m using the drawings for my art illustration class. The drawings are spread out around me on my bed.
“Uh, thanks? But what’s with the NikkiDix?”
“Tryin’ somethin’ new. The guys have nicknames for each other. I thought why can’t we? Since your last name is Dixon and Nik kind of rhymes with Dix, well, you know, NikkiDix. What do ya think?”
I squint and purse my lips in one of those ‘I think I smell shit but can’t find it,’ expressions.
“No good?”
“Girl, good shouldn’t be within a hundred-mile radius of that nickname.” I laugh.
“I can’t very well call you Dix. I couldn’t deal with the deluge of required explanation.” She moves some of my drawings and plops down on the edge of the bed.
“How about you just stick to Nik or Nikki? I’m good with that.” I continue drawing my latest illustration of the flying girl for my book.
“Ugh. You’re so boring. I’m pretty sure Alex will agree with me on this,” she protests while rifling through my drawings.
“Pretty sure he won’t. And if he does, it will be very sad to have to do away with my two best friends at one time.”
“What-ever. It’s hard to believe someone with so little imagination can be so creative.” Trace rolls her eyes and laughs. “These drawings are beautiful.” She thumbs through a few more of my drawings.
“Thanks. This stuff is my form of meditation. Takes my mind off all things shitty. You know what I mean?”
“I’m hoping by the time we get back from spring break everything in your life will be rainbows and sunshine. All things shitty will be talked about and vanquished. You know what I mean?”
“Don’t get your hopes up because it’s never going to happen.”
“Dinner was pretty civil last night…considering. I know as soon as you and Dalt talk things over you’re going to find out it’s just one big misunderstanding. Dalt loves your sweet ass. I’m certain of it. There’s no way he would’ve had any part of this fifty thousand dollar payoff scheme. It’s too ridiculous.” She flicks her hand through the air. “Like something out of a cheap, sleazy novel.”
“It is. Right?”
“Right. Your boobs alone are worth that much. He should have offered you five-hundred thousand. At least.” She keeps a straight face until she sees my shocked expression and then bends over into a big laugh. I’m expecting her to begin rolling around on the floor in glee.
“Thanks, bitch.” I can’t keep from smiling.
“Sorry. Only kidding. I don’t mean to joke about your problems, Nik. It’s just the whole thing is absurd. Talk to Dalt. Find out what’s going on. There’s no way he’d have any part in his father’s scuminess. It just doesn’t sound like him.” She picks up one of my drawings and inspects it a little closer. “This little girl is gorgeous and there’s something so familiar about her. Is she someone you know?”
Damn.
Of course, Trace would see someone she recognizes in Chloe’s beautiful face. She’s the spitting image of Dalt, the same stunning silver blue eyes and almost black hair. Not to mention Trace is a very observant, super smart, and at the moment, extremely fucking annoying friend.
“Uh…yeah. She’s a little girl I know from back home. I based the character in my book on her.” It’s not a total lie, just not the complete truth.
“It’s weird. I could swear I’ve seen her somewhere.” Trace pulls the drawing closer to her eyes. I’m holding my breath waiting for the other hundred-pound shoe to drop, waiting for her analytical, memory efficient brain to make the connection between Chloe and Dalt. When she doesn’t, I inhale for air like a chain-smoker who’s been standing behind a pesticide sprayer. Thank goodness she’s too preoccupied with the drawing to pick up on my oxygen deprived gasp.
Gathering my drawings together, I stack them into a neat pile, using it as an excuse to extend my hand for the one Trace is still holding. She returns it to me without hesitation. I don’t know what I’m worried about. There’s no way she would ever suspect I had Dalt’s baby. Why would she? I never told anyone or brought Chloe to school and no one has ever been to our farm.
“Don’t you guys have to leave for the airport soon?” I ask.
“Now, actually. I still wish you were coming with us though. I hate leaving you here by yourself. You sure you won’t change your mind? We can check to see if there’s any seats left on our flight.”
“No. I wish I could, but I have a lot of work to finish for final projects in these classes.” It’s definitely not a lie. I do have to get my writing and illustrations done before the end of the semester. I want to take a day or two getting them done before I head home and spend the break with my mom and Chloe.
We have a small working alpaca farm, enough to make a bit of a profit. I try to get back there whenever I can, not only to see Chloe, but to help on the farm. Even though it’s small, it can be a lot of work for one woman.
It’s one of the reasons why when my dad passed away, after only a few months my mom jumped head first into a relationship with my scumbag stepfather. Thankfully now ex-scumbag stepfather. At first I was angry she moved on from my dad so soon after his death. Then I realized Bert helped to diminish some of the grief and loneliness I saw in my mom’s eyes after the loss of my dad. And when he helped out on the farm, my mom didn’t appear as depleted and rundown. Anything to ease her weariness made me happy for her. Until the night I woke up to find him standing next to my bed. It shattered my trust in humans forever and broke my mom’s heart all over again.
“You won’t be alone anyway because you’re getting together with Dalt to have an enlightening convo. Right?” Trace’s words remind me of my own heartbreak in the here and now.
“Um. I’ll think about it.” Not happening. I totally misjudged Dalt. I didn’t realize how important his wealth and status were to him. I’ve been a casualty of enough deceitful dirt bag men to last a lifetime.
Trace’s belief in the ravishing heroes providing the happily ever afters in her shelf full of romance novels is clouding her usually perceptive abilities. She won’t accept the fact Dalt’s future bride is a well-to-do California winery heiress, not a fledgling children’s book author slash illustrator who’s going to inherit a struggling alpaca farm.
“Don’t think about it, Nik. Just do it. You and Dalt belong together. I’m never wrong about these things.”
“You sure about that?” I tease, because it wasn’t too long-ago Trace was a mess, thinking she could only be attracted to the wrong guy.
“Well, almost never.” She bends to give me a quick hug goodbye. “Have to go. When we get back the four of us will go out on a double date,” she states and walks out my bedroom door.
“Yeah. Okay, Pollyanna,” I call after her.
“Nice one, but too long and a little old-fashioned. You should totally sign those drawings ‘NikkiDix,’ though!” she yells back.