Natalia

Old buildings never lose their majestic touch, even in ruin, they keep a silent tragic beauty. All the scratches, stains and imperfections add to the unique appearance and magic of their story.

London at dusk can be a sight to behold as the sun sinks into the Thames and colours the outline of the buildings in brilliant gold.

I love London. I love everything about it. Maybe also because it's the only place I have known but I am fully immersed in the magic and don't even mind the weather that much. A heavy gothic rain can enchant the soul sometimes, can't it?

And I love looking. Looking is free, like very few things in this world. You absorb beauty without being asked anything in return.

My phone buzzes, bringing me back to reality. The watch session is over. 'Check on James' pops up big on the screen. I guess I have to do that if I want to make sure he turns up at work today. If he doesn't, it means trouble for both of us. The bartending gig tonight is important. Without that cash, we cannot pay rent and if we don't pay this time either, Mr. Reynolds is going to kick our asses out to the street.

God knows, the shitty moments in my life were plentiful so far but the week I have spent homeless in London is top three. Life with James isn't always skittle and rainbows but everything is better than that and almost five years is a long time, so long I know him inside out. We are a team, and when he wakes up on the right side of the mattress even a good one.

I kick the pedal of my old, rusty, mustard-coloured bike a bit harder to reach home before the rain does. Luckily only a few drops land on my head when tying up the bike in front of our building in Peckham.

I avoid the puke someone stained, yet again, the staircase with, by a few lucky centimetres and dig for the keys in my backpack.

"Hello, Nate, my beautiful girl!" says Mrs Adebayo in her prominent Yoruba accent with syllable rhythm, making my name sound more like Naa-te-e. Her eye is again black, which means Mr. Adebayo had once again come drunk home last night. Yet her tone is jolly and she is wearing her colorful dresses and head scarves as she does every day. We have been neighbours since forever. I have been living in this neighbourhood all my life, first with Mom, then with James, after she passed.

"Hello, Mrs. Adebayo. Good to see you. All good?" I ask rather rhetorically. It obviously isn't but there isn't anything any of us can do about it.

"Yes, yes, all good. I just have to hurry to make dinner for Mr. Adebayo."

"Is Malik not home?" I ask.

I am not even sure what to hope. If he had been home he could have protected his mother a little bit, he also would most probably have gotten more than a black eye from the altercation. In the last months, he has been doing well in MMA classes and built quite some muscles, so much so he can hold his ground on the street, but against his father... There is more than sheer force needed to stand up against your oldest oppressor, besides the fact that Mr. Adebayo is a mountain of a man.

"No, he is in the city." Hmm, this might mean he has a date. This might also mean his father will be even more angry when he returns. Hopefully, at least the alcohol will have been drained out of his blood by then.

"Mrs. Adebayo, James has a late shift today, if you like you can come over." This is me offering her to stay here until her husband is not a danger anymore.

"No, my girl, I need to finish dinner. I will also bake a pie. I will send Malik later over with a slice for you."

"Thank you! James will love it."

"I said for you, not for James." She comes a bit closer and grabs my hand. "Nate, my girl. I know life is difficult but James is not good for you. Not good. Believe me. I know."

I didn't see this coming.

"Ah, Mrs. Adebayo... He is not a bad person, just a bit lost sometimes." Though James has his issues, he never hit me as her husband does, but I don't want to say this out loud to make her feel worse. She means well. We are just a regular couple with regular problems, the first among them being chronic lack of money.

"Listen to me. I go now, Nate. Will send Malik over later. Take care, my girl."

I smile and wave while she walks away swinging her rather voluptuous hips.

Life in his corner of Peckham is never that easy and we both know it.

Finally, I find the keys and unlock the door.

"James, are you home?"

Silence.

"James?" He damn should be here sleeping to be able to work at night. A cold gush goes over my back. If he isn't home there are usually only a few places where he can be. None of them are good for this endeavour.

And of course, he doesn't answer my calls. I shoot an angry text at him. I know I should give him the benefit of the doubt but my anger got the best of me.

J: Babe, I am on my way to work. Why are you like this?!

Great. He is actually doing the right thing and I have been a cunt. I need to make it up to him.

And now, now I am in the odd situation for the first time in probably forever that I don't have an impending task. My bachelor thesis was turned in days ago, the graduation ceremony is tomorrow and the presentation the week after, they are cleaning the high school gym where I usually have my MMA classes, James is also out and it's too late to sign in for another bike delivery shift if I can only work maybe an hour.

I have... free time and feel overwhelmed. What might Fiona be doing? Maybe we can hang out or maybe I can scrub the mold from the shower. Less enjoyable but necessary activity.

I scrub the damn thing for half an hour and it still looks hopeless. Two more months, Natalia. Two more months. Then I will finally be done with graduation, have my degree and will be able to apply for better jobs than bike delivery or kitchen aid.

In the end, I enter the freshly scrubbed cabin for a shower. After ten minutes though the water is still cold as fuck. Did James forget to pay that damn bill? I will have to ask him tomorrow but for the moment I bite my teeth together and shower cold. It's supposedly good for your health anyway.

Oh, telepathy. Fee is calling while I brush my, sometimes rather unruly, hair.

"Hey! Sup, woman?"

F: "Guuurl! You don't imagine what happened to me."

Ok, this is not good. Slurred speech in the girl who never does anything she shouldn't.

"No, I don't. You sound strange, Fee. Did you drink?"

F: "Yes. A bit, I mean. Mia took me partying with her, Amber and Rose for the first time. You won't believe where I am, yo. I am in Hell! Can you imagine?"

I am there too, spiritually. Oh, this is not good at all. Mia and her girl squad bullied us constantly during all four university years. Our nicknames were, I mean still are, Dirty and Fatty. So there is no way in hell, oh the irony, this can be a good thing.

But yeah Fee is like this sometimes, trying to fit in, to maybe gain approval from the world and from her bitchy mother. Can't blame her. Life is hard.

F: Nate, girl, thank you, thank you so much! If it wasn't for you I would still be fat. Yo, I love you, you know that? And I need to puke."

While it's indeed true that Fee has lost a good amount of weight in the MMA classes she attended last year, I severely doubt it's about this. People are treated crappy regardless of shape.

"And where are Mia and her bitches now?"

F: "Well, I don't know, God..."

My girl here is definitely puking her heart out.

"Can you walk? Should I pick you up?"

F: "No, everything is fine. I am feeling great... Well, maybe not so great. The door looks kind of fuzzy."

No, definitely not great. If there weren't the risk of me getting expelled, my fist would have collided with Mia's face a long time ago, but since I can actually hurt her badly and her dad is a prominent lawyer, I am of course not doing anything.

"OK. Where are you? I am coming over."

F: "I am in Hell; I told you. This place is dope."

"And where is that?"

F: "In Soho... Maybe. I don't know. I don't recall."

"Uuff, don't worry. I will find it. Just stay there, no more booze, and try not to do anything stupid. I will be there in thirty minutes."

I hope... Where is this stupid thing? Yeah, thirty minutes by tube. Off we go.

Only now I notice that somebody is knocking and ringing the doorbell hysterically.

"What?!" I scream.

"It's me, Nate, your favourite bitch." Malik's rather unmistakable voice sounds through the door. Malik moved here from Lagos when he was six so he doesn't have his mother's accent and sounds neatly British but the way in which he expresses himself is rather colourful, like everything else about him.

"Come in, Malik, but I am kinda' in a hurry. Fee knocked down one too many cocktails; I have to go pick her up."

I finally open the door and look at him holding a steaming slice of pie and rocking a new hair colour on his dreadlocks. Neon pink this time.

"Has she suddenly turned from wallflower to party girl? Has she discovered the magic stick? Finally?"

"Don't be gross, dude. Mia took her partying with her girls' squad in some rich people club called Hell. Oh so cool and creative." I roll my eyes theatrically.

"O.M.G! She is in 'Hell'? Well, it means this bitch here is her guardian angel. Tell her she owes me a Dior bag. Happens that my cousin Jamal, you know him, the bald one built like a bull, is working there. He is guarding the back door, I know, I know." He stops a bit to smile cheekily. " So the motherfucker can get you in, I mean."

Yes, indeed the first good news today. I was picturing myself getting into a fight with security.

"You are indeed. Can you give me his number and call him to tell him I am heading there?"

Malik gives me a one-over finished with a bit of undisguised disapproval.

"But you do not really wanna go there dressed like this?" he asks raising an eyebrow.

"What? The queer eye doesn't approve?"

"Not at all, bitch."

Well if somebody that I know understands style and fashion that is him, for the better or for his worse.

"I will be in and out in five minutes. And I don't possess anything better."

"What about that dress?" says Malik pointing at the black dress on a hanger nearby.

"That's for my graduation." My only decent piece of clothing.

"Well, you better put that on if you don't wanna be dragged out by security in less than five minutes. Some eyeliner at least and try not to draw attention. It's a simple black dress, nobody will notice it is cheap unless they take a closer look. "

"You are awful... and right!"

"I know I am. I bribed Jamal into letting me in a few months ago but didn't prepare. They smelled the poverty on me and I was out before reaching the bar."

Oh boy, this will be an interesting ride.

"How do I look? Does it do the job?" I ask, venturing under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Nate, bay, you know I love you, whoever gets rich first takes the other shopping. Now let me see... I would not call this outfit hot, sexy, or anything like that but somewhat decent given the circumstances. Let me put your hair half up. It will make the curls sit better. Did you forget again to use conditioner like I taught you?"

"Not precisely. I just didn't have money to buy it."

"Yeah. I get it. Next time steal some from Fee."

I give him a disapproving glance. Fiona would gift me one bottle of conditioner if I weren't so damn ashamed to ask.

Jamal, Malik's cousin, is waiting for me at the back entrance of the club. He is quite handsome, indeed broad-shouldered and fit, with deep dark eyes and long lashes.

And while I walk the hallway towards the club's main room, a wide array of very beautiful servers walk past me. They are indeed hiring based on looks here.

When I call Fee this time, she picks up right away.

"Fiona, I am here. Where are you? Come down and let's go."

F: "Oh, Nate, you here? I am... haha in the middle of something, just aaah wait a little. I will be down in a minute."

And she hangs up, just like that and doesn't answer anymore when I call.

Great, and what do I do now? I have no idea where she is.

That club is indeed lavish in many ways, from the Art Noveau decoration to the pair doing acrobatics over the heads of the people, to the guests, all rich and not shy to show it.

It is damn beautiful and also damn intimidating. It's the same feeling I had on my first day at University. All the other students in my class happen to be at least upper middle class and there is me, the only one with a government scholarship and also the only one who received government aid growing up for students from low-income families. Now one can imagine how I got the nickname Dirty. Each and every one of them are snobs, except Fee. That's why I am here because I love her.

Evaluating the place, I conclude that the best spot to see everything and not be seen is at an obscure corner of the bar. As people here adore to be seen, a chair seems to be free.

I make my way over there, walking shy and clumsy, praying nobody will pay me any attention.

"What would you like to drink, madam?" says a bartender looking like a young Antonio Banderas. He looks me up and down when I slide on the bar stool and scrunches his nose a little bit.

"Nothing, thank you. I am just waiting for a friend."

"Nothing?" he asks raising an eyebrow in something similar to disgust.

Ok fine, asshole.

"A water, please. Sparkling."

"Which one?" He points to a menu.

I refrain to roll my eyes and look inside. Where the fuck are the prices? It's only a long list of names I don't know. Given that I have only ten pounds on me and fifty in my bank account, this is most certainly a problem.

"So?" he asks again.

"What's uh... The difference between them?"

"The origin, the flavour..." he replies, and I want to smack his face.

"It's freakin' water. If I order something else I might not be able to afford rent," I mutter and right away there is a suppressed chuckle behind me.

I look that way instinctively. An almost ethereally beautiful guy is trying to hold back laughter.

I should look away and mind my own business. I should tell this stupid guy what type of water I want. I should do anything but stare at his face the way I do.

Now if you are an architect, you are marginally familiar with what makes something beautiful and subconsciously appealing. And this guy might be the most astonishing example I have ever seen. His features are so symmetrical, sharp and smooth in all the right places that I cannot help tracing them with my gaze. Sharp jawline, smooth lips, sharp chin, smooth brow curve... He is... something and so tall I need to look up.

I should stop fucking staring but his eyes are the most surreal shade of blue I have ever seen, like a sky just before the storm, almost purple.

"Sir, what can I serve you?" says the annoying bartender.

"The lady was here first. I believe she wanted to order... Water?" The way his lips form the word water makes me swallow air.

"Never mind." I give the bartender a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think I could afford it. Sorry, sir," I tell now the intimidatingly beautiful guy and smile more genuinely but with a sigh at the corner of my lips.

"No, wait," he says and I am thundered in place. What a freaking voice. I can feel it on the nape of my neck.

"Mc'Callan, neat from 94' and sparkling water, Asahi Rokko, I guess..."

"You guess?" I ask when I should just shut up and walk away.

"Yes, a friend spent some time in Japan and brought me one once as a jest. It's the only name I recognize from this list."

And now I am in trouble because he ordered the stupid water and I need to pay for it.

"But, if you allow me a remark. One rarely comes here and drinks water."

Oh no, you most certainly didn't come here to drink water. I steal a glance at his suit pants and white shirt with the first two buttons undone. I bet, he is a business guy either celebrating a deal or preparing for one.

"I would drink something else if I could afford it, but I am even afraid to ask how much your dink costs. And I am only in passing. Came to recover a friend. Do you happen to have seen her? Her name is Fiona and goes also by Fee, has strawberry blond hair cut in a bob, is a bit taller than me and always smiling."

The bartender puts a glass of water and one of whiskey in front of us. If I don't touch the water and he ordered it, he will need to pay for it, right?

"Want a sip?"

"What?"

I look back up at him.

"You were staring at the whiskey intensely."

In truth the colour is amazing and I can smell it from here.

"Oh, gosh, sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I don't mind. Here."

And before I could register it he pressed the heavy crystal glass into my hand. What do I do now? It's only a sip and I saw the bartender pour it, but how the hell did I get into this situation?

"Nooo, I cannot. My graduation ceremony is tomorrow and I need to be sober to get my friend home. Have you seen her, though?"

"No, I don't think I did. One sip will not knock you out, though. And you can start the graduation celebration. Or actually..." He raises two fingers at the bartender and in less than a minute another whiskey glass is placed in front of us. He takes it and clicks it against the one I am holding while I realize that I am dumb as rocks.

"Congratulations! What do you graduate in?"

"Architecture. UCL," I say and bring the sinful glass to my lips. But sheesh, it's amazing.

"It's quite good, isn't it?"

"Good? This is amazing! It tastes like angel tears! But I might have taken a month's rent in a sip."

He presses again his lips together suppressing laughter.

And I, I realize I am having a good time, so good that I only just notice my phone vibrating in the purse.

"Fee?"

F: "Nate, I am in the bathroom on the second floor. I feel I am dying." And it also sounds as if she is.

Before she was drunk and jolly, but now she is existential crisis drunk.

"I will be there in a minute." Right away I jump from the stool and wave the guy goodbye sprinting up the stairs. He looks again amused and a little puzzled.

Fee is sitting on the bathroom floor, covered in tears and snot. There is a small urge in my chest to give her a sermon but I know that isn't what she needs at this point, at all. So I just sit down on the tiles by her side and whisper, "What happened?"

"I came here with them because they invited me and they never do, and my mother always wants me to befriend the high-class people from school. Because she and Dad have tried oh so hard to get me there."

"Yeah, other friends not the one from the ghetto." I sigh. Fee never said that but I saw the way her mother and father looked at me when we first met, with pity and concern. After four years of friendship, they dropped the concern because I wasn't after all a bad influence on their daughter, they only keep the pity and occasional condescension.

"No, Nate, you know I love you. You are my only real friend who likes me quite as I am. You liked me fat and you like me now. It's just that... I wanted her to be proud of me at least once. At first, it was fun. We kept getting drinks and shots, many shots, and Mia introduced me to her friend Liam. Liam is very handsome and he asked me to go to the terrace with him. He wanted to have sex there, and I refused. So he got angry and told me I was still ugly despite weighing less and would never be equal to Mia or Amber. Had a small mental breakdown, ran down, bought myself a bottle and drank some more here. Why can I not be like them? "

And she starts sobbing uncontrollably.

"Because you don't suck. And if you need me to tell you that the whole day every day, I will do that. You are amazing and you have no idea how much you mean to me. They are what's wrong in this world."

"I love you too. I am sorry for this."

"No worries. Of course, you owe me a big one now. Hehe! Come on, we grab some burgers on the way home. I am buying, but it can't exceed ten pounds. And after graduation, I will punch Mia for this one."

Fee is now almost laughing, so this weird escapade was worth it.

We walk silently out of the goddamn club.

"Oh, I didn't tell you. I think I met the Devil in Hell. He was as you would expect him to be, very handsome and charming, and offered me booze. "

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Finally editing this one. It should be less cringy and more mafia.