She knew who it was before the message waiting button even went off.
She had been dreading it the whole flight, from California to New York. As she soon as it was safe for her to turn her phone back on, she did. For the first two minutes she was safe. Nothing went off, nothing beeped, nothing flashed, safe. Then as she was grabbing her bags and walking out, it flashed, vibrated, and beeped.
With unsteady hands she loaded her bags into a waiting taxi. She loaded herself in the backseat next as the driver took off, having already known where she was headed.
The drive was quiet save for a few questions here and there. Tourist questions that she should have been asking him.
'What's Cali like? How longed 'cha stay there? Is it hot there? A lot of girls?' His thick New York accent made her smile with every question. It took her mind off of what was to come. When the interrogation had ended she sat in the back seat, practically curled in a ball.
This was scary.
What was she going to have to say this time? She didn't want an apology. She wanted a rewind. A do-over; like in elementary school when she played rock-paper-scissors and lost. To herself she had said that none of this was his fault. He took a drug and he got kinda crazy, then she scoffed. There was his first mistake right there. He took a drug.
'And his friends almost raped you!' Caden looked at her driver, scared she had unconsciously said something out loud. He was watching the road, already braking for the oncoming traffic. She hadn't even noticed that they were already in the city. Her condo wasn't far now.
"So why'd you, eh, come here. To New York, I mean." Through his mirror Richard Zampanelli, he had told her his name but she hadn't been aware of retaining the information. "You a runaway bride or somethin'?" He laughed at his own joke. She did too.
"Yeah, something like that," she answered quietly.
"Oh." Richard stopped laughing. "Well, this big city is good fa' stuff like that. Take ya mind off of-eh, what's his name?"
"Jon." Her answer was quick and a bit too loud for the cab. He looked up. "Jon," she repeated quieter this time. "And we weren't going to get married. We just, um, things just happen." Richard nodded. He pulled near to the sidewalk. "Well, we're here."
Caden glanced out the window before getting out the car. They were still in the city, a nice part of it. Condos surrounded both sides of the car and people walked their dogs and rushed out their buildings.
"You're lucky; this is a nice place, here. You payin' for this on your own?" C.K. almost saw the dollar signs blind his eyes. "No," she replied. "I've got a roommate." Not that she needed one. "Oh." Richard finished unloading her bags onto the sidewalk, then brushed off his hands, on his jeans. "Well, it was nice meeting you, miss..." he fished for a name.
"Caden," she supplied.
Her smile was fake. Her heart pounded with anticipation for the message. Or maybe it was fear. She managed to embrace his hand in a firm handshake. "How much do I owe you?" she asked. Her hand reached into her back pocket back stopped at the feeling of warmth on her shoulder. Richard looked at her with sincere eyes. "You look like your having a rough day. A rough week even. Keep it. It's probably the last bit of kindness you'll see in this city."
This time Caden's smile was real and Richard returned it at the same amplitude. "Have a nice day," he said.
Caden gathered her bags and stomped through the lobby to the elevators. Just as she thought, it was empty. The lobby cast a cold, grayish-blue color on everything.
"I'll fit in perfectly," she told herself.
"Oh God, please don't tell me your Caden," A voice rang out from across the room. A tall man, semi-muscular stood, magazine in his hand.
"Well, that's one hell of a greeting. Yeah, I am Caden." She confirmed.
"Damn. It." He threw the magazine down, not caring where it landed and walked over to her.
"Did I do something wrong?" Caden scrunched her eyebrows. "Well, yeah." He said, as if it were obvious. "You were talking to yourself."
Caden waited for the punch line, which either never came or was long gone. She gave a nervous laugh.
"Is that it?"
He nodded rigorously.
"You don't talk to yourself?"
"Of course I do but this is New York. I get a whole bunch of crazies applying as a roommate. My last roommate used to stay up at night until I went to sleep then come in the room and masturbate. My one before that used to walk around at five in the morning and talk to himself about calendars. And before that—"
Caden cut him off. She saw where this was headed.
"Wait! No! I'm not crazy; I was just admiring the building." The elevator behind the man opened, stayed open, the closed. No one got off. Her roommate gave her a scrutinizing look. "Crazy people never know they are crazy. And besides, you're an artist."
Caden shrugged.
She hated being called that.
"I'm a photographer. You only call someone an artist when they deserve to be called that. I'm just trying to make my way." The man's face softened.
"Yeah, you must be crazy," his voice had gone down an octave. He gave a smile to let her know he was kidding. She returned it out of sincerity. "Okay, well now that that's finished-" he took her bags "- I'm Gabriel. I live in the same apartment as you, of course, and I don't like noise when I'm not invited to help make it."
Caden kept a steady pace with him, despite his long strides. When they reached the elevators, he turned to her. "Oh my God," he leaned down, close to her face, looking deeply into her eyes. "Are those real?"
"No, they're glass." She made sure to keep her face completely emotionless for a few seconds before laughing. "Of course they're real." Gabriel was laughing too. "You have gorgeous eyes. So bright. Like one of those African American movie stars that are so pretty but you never see what lab they came from. Hollywood swears they are born just like you and me." He glanced at her as they stepped on the elevator before the doors even completely opened. "Well, me, maybe not you."
Caden couldn't help but smile. This guy was adorable. Up close he looked less muscular, which was surprising. He had a slim build but not too slim. She could see the muscles from under his polo shirt but they weren't bulging. His eyes were a regular brown and his hair matched. In the front it was spiked up to a semi-Mohawk.
"By the way, because you are hot—"
"Thank you."
"-We are going to have to set some ground rules. Where are you from?"
"California."
He mumbled to himself. "Okay, good. I won't have to worry about the 'big city life, small country girl' promiscuity faze."
The elevator doors opened. Caden hadn't even realized a button was pressed. They were on the thirteenth floor.
Gabriel exited, Caden followed. "I knew you talked to yourself," she said. He through her a crooked smile over his shoulder then continued talking.
"Ground rules. One: You're hot. Those eyes are definitely working for you and your shape is perfection and I love your style. Therefore, I wouldn't doubt if you have some midnight guests coming by. Please, please, please, just try to keep the bumping and grinding to a minimum. In volume not in quota. You look like a growing girl, I won't deprive you completely." Caden smiled and nodded as he continued down the list, speaking quickly
"Two: I'm gay." He stood there as if waiting for the firing squad. Caden stood there staring at him. She gave him a look that said, 'and?'
"Great! Now that I know you're not homophobic. I have a lot of guy friends. Mostly gay- some semi-gay- and we throw a lot of parties. Any parties that I have you are invited to and a little bird told me that you were only, what? Eighteen? That's fine. Get trashed. Just please, puke in el bano."
It was an hour before Gabriel finished laying down his ground rules. Finally Caden was alone and she took refuge on a red couch in her new room. She looked around, stalling time before taking out her phone. The room was exactly what she needed. The wall nearest the outside window was brick and lined with art. The other three walls were painted white with various markings etched and painted in. The small couch she lounged in faced the window and on the other side of the room was a tire swing dangling from the ceiling. Gabriel had explained that the room was large enough to fit one hundred and ten people, shoulder to shoulder, therefore it was large enough for her to swing should she feel the need. And, yes, he had added, it can hold up to about one hundred and seventy pounds so it won't break when she sat down on it.
Her phone beeped, reminding her that she still had a message that was yet to be read. She removed it from her back pocket and stared it. She couldn't lie-she was scared. Not scared of who the message was from but scared of what it said. She knew who sent it. She didn't even have to guess.
