When Iman arrived at the Pasticceria, she found Shortie already seated by the window on a plush black velvet banquette. They exchanged air kisses in the European style, laughing at their own formality. Iman admired Shortie's head-to-toe denim ensemble. Despite having seen each other on FaceTime that morning, she still exclaimed, "You look fabulous, dear."

Shortie beamed. "Ditto, my darling girl. I just love this look on you!"

At barely seventeen, Iman had 'curves in all the right places.' Though she had been self-conscious about her body at school, she was gaining confidence daily and was determined to find her own style. Today, she wore tailored pants and a cream silk blouse. She smiled, feeling validated by Shortie's genuine compliment. Her friend's reaction reinforced her belief that she could embrace her womanhood with style. The days of lounging in activewear were behind her.

Iman took a seat across from Shortie, placing her hand-embroidered peacock bag on the windowsill. She was pleased to find the café's décor as luxurious as advertised. If the food was even half as tasty, it would be worth the trip across town. She had organized this meetup to welcome Charlie and help the housemates get to know her. When Delyan and Bibiana declined, it hadn't bothered her. Secretly, she hoped the brunch would ease Shortie's anxiety about Charlie. Better the devil you know, after all.

Charlie arrived soon enough, her boho kaftan adding a splash of color. Thankfully, she wasn't late—Shortie couldn't stand unpunctuality. Nick, of course, was still missing, but he'd be forgiven.

Charlie greeted the girls with a breezy hello. Iman glanced at Shortie, hoping Charlie's easy charm would sway her friend's opinion of her. Iman enjoyed being around attractive people and secretly hoped Shortie would warm to Charlie so they could all spend more time together. It was part of her strategy, to surround herself with people who pushed her to try harder. She'd never been able to relaxing around someone she envied and relaxation was the thief of time.

A waitress arrived with table water and menus. Shortie poured water into four glasses and handed them around.

"Delyan called," she said. "He wants us all for a house meeting at seven."

"Tonight?" Iman sighed deeply. "We've already settled the roster. Charlie's got Carmen's chores." She turned to Charlie.

"Right?"

Charlie nodded, raising her glass to her lips while scanning her phone. She seemed distracted.

"Did you see the second bathroom this morning?" Shortie asked. "Someone needs to teach that boy to use a mop!"

Iman knew it had been Delyan's day. "I didn't see him all day yesterday," she said. "Where is he?"

"In Paris. At least today he is."

Charlie continued scrolling on her phone in silence. Iman resisted the urge to ask if she was alright. Fortunately, Shortie didn't seem to notice Charlie's lack of participation. "Apparently, Bibiana called him this morning and asked for his help," Shortie said.

"Help? From Delyan?" Iman chuckled. "Read the room, girl!"

"Right? Of all people." Shortie rolled her eyes. "Listen. Anyway, he said he's got an idea he wants to run by us tonight."

"Better tell Nick. He's got a date." The hovering waitress stepped closer to the table. Iman shook her head and she stepped away.

"Interesting timing. He's here." Shortie's gaze had moved toward the door.

Twisting in her chair, Iman saw Nick approaching from behind. He'd had a haircut.

"Tell Nick what?" he asked, briefly touching Iman's shoulder, and throwing air kisses in all directions.

"House meeting. 7pm," Shortie said. "Delyan called it."

"Seriously? No way!" Nick flopped onto the plush cushions beside Shortie and picked up a menu.

"Nice haircut..." Iman muttered.

Nick unfurled a charcoal scarf from his neck with his free hand. "I know," he said, patting his ears self-consciously. "It's a bit short."

Charlie flipped her phone face down on the table and turned to Shortie. "Did Delyan say anything else?"

Nick sat up straight. "Why do you ask?" He looked suspicious.

"No reason," Charlie said, shrugging her shoulders. "Just curious."

Nick leaned forward, peering over the menu to study Charlie's expression. "I know that look," he said. "He's got to you."

Charlie wrapped her hands around her water glass and took a slow sip. "What do you mean?" Her tone was unnervingly flat.

"Oh my God, you like him!" Nick squealed. "Every time! That guy is unbelievable."

Beneath her colorful jewel necklace, Charlie's neck flushed a blotchy pink.

Iman snorted. "My advice? Get over it, and quick, girl."

"I'm not...that's not..." Charlie stammered. "I was just asking a question."

Shortie glared at Charlie across the table. "Well, he's in a relationship. So..."

The color drained from Charlie's cheeks. "What did you say?"

"He's in a relationship with..." Shortie paused, searching her memory, "...his girlfriend. She's arriving next week. We rent the place from her."

"I feel sick." Charlie dropped her gaze to the tabletop.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked. "What happened?"

"Delyan is in a relationship?" Charlie looked stunned. "Are you serious?"

Iman chuckled. "Keep up, love."

"His girlfriend's name is Viiiolet..." Nick drawled.

"Fucking hell," Charlie pushed her chair back and began to fumble on the floor for her handbag.

Shortie leaned in and placed a steadying hand on Charlie's wrist. "Are you okay?"

Charlie nodded silently.

"I'm guessing you've got more than a small crush on our boy," Nick said kindly. "Am I right?" He wrapped an arm around Charlie and gave a squeeze.

Charlie virtually squirmed free from Nick's grasp.

"I might need to go soon too," she stood up briskly as if to leave the table. "I don't think I can be there tonight," she added.

Iman shook her head. "House meetings are non-negotiable, dear. Unless... you have something else planned?"

"I do," Charlie replied, picking up her phone from the table and slipping it into her bag. "I'm sorry, but I do need to go."

"You're leaving?" Iman was furious. What was the point of gathering everyone if Charlie wasn't even going to stay for a coffee?

"I know you organized this for me... I'm just... sorry." Charlie placed a hand on Iman's shoulder, then turned and walked towards the counter. Abruptly she pivoted and exited the Pasticceria.

Shortie turned to Nick. "Well?"

"I'll be there!" he chirped. "House meetings are my fav..."

Shortie laughed. "What about your date?"

"Plenty of fish in the sea...Besides I'm intrigued how we're to help B."

"God helps those who help themselves," Iman mumbled. She tucked a runaway braid behind her ear and strummed her fingers on the tabletop.

"Alright, Princess Perfect," Nick snapped, dropping the menu onto the table. "Why am I even looking at this? I already know what I want."

Iman picked up the menu, glancing at it for the first time since sitting down. She planned to use the points she'd earned at the gym that morning on cream and chocolate, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

"Why doesn't anyone call a house meeting for me?" Nick joked. "It's insulting. I'm a skinny minnie too, you know."

"You shouldn't joke about that," Shortie said. "Anorexia is a serious illness."

"It's a mindset," Iman clarified, eyeing the delicious array of pastries, and trying to narrow down her options.

"Nope!" Shortie insisted. "It's an illness."

"That affects people with a certain mentality." Iman said, disdainfully.

"Shall we order?" Shortie said, waving the waitress over.

Iman wasn't finished. She had strong opinions on the subject and wanted to share them. Also, Charlie's abrupt exit had turned her mood sour. "I find ano's to be so self-centered," she gabbled. "If you only think of yourself, what do you expect?" she paused, waiting for a contradiction. "Naturally, you'd get sick. Like duh? This world demands more from a woman than jutty hips and a teeny bottom."

Shortie raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Agree to disagree?"

Iman nodded sulkily.

Nick snorted. "Jutty hips? I think I just found my new weight goal."

The waitress arrived and Shortie ordered. She always had the same breakfast—a plain croissant and a pot of English breakfast tea.

"Long black for me," Nick said, glancing at the waitress.

Iman handed over the menu. "I'll have a caffè latte, a pain au chocolat, and a cream cannolo..." She paused, glancing at Nick. "Because I'm worth it!"

Nick raised both hands. "No comment!"

After they ordered, a comfortable silence fell over the table as the three friends scrolled and tapped on their phones amidst the café's bustle. Iman noticed a large green and purple chandelier hanging above their table, casting a strange neon glow. She considered taking a photo but instead moved to sit next to Shortie, extending her arm to get all three of them into a selfie against the window. The picture was for Instagram. She'd been curating a profile for a client who paid by the click. It wasn't as easy as it seemed. She worried about her spelling and, with most of her images, she was in competition with Nick and his blog over the right to post the venue they were in.

"What do you think was up with Charlie?" Nick said. "I think I should check on her."

"Pretty little thing can't have the hot boy she wants," Iman muttered.

Nick choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Ooh that's cold!"

"Apologies, I'm in a mood," Iman said, putting her phone down. She couldn't think of anything witty to say about the photo she'd taken and decided to post it later. Perking up, she said: "Did you see her face when you mentioned Violet?"

"I did!" Nick chortled with an air of conspiracy. "I reckon they've already slept together."

The waitress arrived with their order and a fresh bottle of table water.

"You must be joking," Shortie said, breaking her croissant between her fingers.

"You don't know him. He's got quite the body count." Nick shook a sugar sachet.

Iman took Nick's hand. "Oh darling, you're still hung up on him, aren't you?"

Nick shook his head. "No chance. I'd rather karaoke naked."

"That sounds like something you'd enjoy," Shortie said pouring hot tea into her cup.

Nick laughed. "No, you're right. I'd rather..."

"Drink fat?" Iman grinned.

"Ugh! That's disgusting," Nick responded, making a face. "Though if you are going to eat a cannolo, you might as well."

"Hey, I worked hard for this," Iman laughed, drawing the offending cannoli to her lips. She paused before taking a bite and said, "You're just jealous."

Nick sighed. "I am. I should have one too."

Just then, Shortie's bag began to vibrate. She excused herself and stepped outside as Nick waved down the waitress.

"Be a darling and bring me a ricotta cannolo?"

When Shortie returned, her face was troubled. She'd had a call from her uncle in Nigeria—her father had been caught in an uprising.

"Now that's a problem," Iman said. "I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Shortie said. "Send money, of course. I might have to go home."

"Not during fashion week?" Nick sounded aghast.

"They're my parents, Nick. I need to be there."

"Yeah, but aren't you better off earning from over here?"

"I guess," Shortie nodded, then shook her head. "Yeah. I don't have much choice. I walk for Iceberg this afternoon." She picked up a piece of her croissant and distractedly put it into her mouth, pushing her plate to one side. "I'm sorry, lovelies. I might cut our brunch short. I want to see if I can reach my mum."

Iman rose from the table to hug Shortie, who appeared visibly shaken. "It's okay, darling. We understand."

"Thanks, love. I'll see you later, yeah?" Shortie stood up, placed ten euros on the table, and walked away clutching her bag and phone.

As she reached the door, Nick called out, "Girl, knock 'em dead this afternoon."

Shortie waved. "Ciao ciao."

"Ciao. Ci vediamo!"

Now that Shortie had left, Iman felt comfortable venting to Nick about Charlie. To her surprise, though, Nick didn't seem up for gossip.

"She's a nice girl, Princess," he said. "You'll like her if you give her half a chance. Believe me. The two of you have a lot in common...hashtag girlboss!"

Iman shook her head and reached for her coffee. "Personally, I think she might be a few sandwiches short of a picnic."

"You sound very English when you say that."

"I am English."

"Give her a break, yeah? The two of you aren't that different."

"Maybe you mean you and she aren't that different."

Nick's cannoli had arrived, and he picked it up, inspected it from all angles, then put it down again. "How so? I mean she's pretty... I get it, but...?"

"You know what I mean..." Iman cradled her coffee cup and took a sip of the warm liquid. "You both have the same dreadful taste in men. Delyan is just a lad you know. Selfish and unpredictable." She paused gathering her thoughts. "Actually, he's worse than most chaps, he's lazy and practically non-verbal. I personally don't see what all the fuss is about."

Nick took a large bite of his cannoli, chewed, and swallowed, shaking his head. "He's not like other guys, babe. I wish he was. Believe me. But he's not. You'll see."

Iman took a bite of her pain au chocolat. "You are so odd," she said. "One day you like him, the next you don't. He treats you like rubbish. Why are you living with him again?"

Nick leaned back on the velvet cushions and sighed. "I don't know. I sooo do not like him! But attraction is another thing. It's hard for you to see because I admit, he can be a real jerk at home, but when it suits him, he's got serious charm. It works on people. He's serving it on jobs. It's sickening. Everyone's noticing it now. He'll be one to watch."

"Mmm... this is delicious!" Iman said, cutting into Nick's musings. Giving him space to wax lyrical about Delyan was a bad idea. "How's your cannoli?"

"Yummy!" Nick replied, acting oblivious to the shift in conversation. Iman seized the moment to duck to the bathroom. When she returned, Nick was on his phone and the waitress had cleared the table of everything but her latte glass. She had remembered why she wanted to talk about Charlie in the first place.

"I got the sense that she's caught up in something with him—Delyan, I mean?" Iman took her seat, returning her bag to the windowsill. "Did you get that?"

"Yup..." Nick didn't look up from his phone, sounding non-committal.

"I can't believe he'd do that to his girlfriend," Iman prompted. "What a rotter."

"Believe it," Nick said, his demeanor serious and un-Nick-like. "When Delyan gets any power over a person, he uses them mercilessly."

"That's wicked," Iman said. "I don't like that."

"I feel for Charlie if she is mixed up with him," Nick said. "I joke about it, but he's ruthless. At least he was to me. He made me feel like a worm... for months!"

"Oh darling..." Iman looked at her watch, conscious they'd spent a fair bit of time gossiping and it was time she couldn't afford.

"We should call her, don't you think?" Nick said. "Just to check in...?"

"Go on," Iman said. She still had a few minutes to spare. "Tell her I'm not mad."

Nick pulled his phone out his purse and scrolled for Charlies number. Then realized he didn't have it. None of them did. "I'll catch up with her later," he said. "My day is painfully free. Not a single job in sight."

"Poor love," Iman touched his arm. "Your time will come..."

"Righto. Tell me about you? I'll live vicariously."

Iman looked at her watch again and shook her head. "Sorry, babe. I must leave soon. I've got a swimwear shoot this afternoon, and my agent booked me in for a wax."

Nick winced.

"I'm totally fine with it," Iman laughed at his expression. "As long as the client's paying, I'm all in."

Nick stood up, pulling his wallet from his purse.

Iman drank the dregs of her coffee. "At least I convinced them to let me wear the one-piece this time."

"Playing hide the cannoli?" Nick deadpanned.

Iman laughed. "Will you ever not be a smarty pants?"

"It's all I've got, babe." Nick grinned sheepishly.

Iman picked up the tenner Shortie had left behind and made her way to the counter. Glancing back at Nick, she said with a confident flick of her hair, "Well, you're not wrong! This curvy girl rocks a one-piece like nobody's business. Teensy weeny bikinis? Not my style."