Bradley looks smitten as he finds the words to respond. With a flinch and a shrug, he sighs and says, “We met just over a year ago, and … well, we have been sort of inseparable since.”
“Sort of?” I question, watching the green light in the center of the carousel blink on and off.
“Well, you know—normal relationship wear and tear. We took a little break a few months ago after a fight we had, but things have been great since then.”
Yeah, I don’t know if it’s my place to tell him a breakup within a year, followed by a proposal doesn’t seem super impressive to me, but who am I to judge? I haven’t had a relationship last longer than a couple of weeks throughout the last six years. “And you want to move to Virginia?” I question.
“No, I don’t, but we all have to grow up at some point and do things we don’t necessarily want to do, right?”
Yeah, again, I just—something doesn’t sound right. “I guess.” What do I know? I’ve been a college graduate for less than a week. “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.” He doesn’t seem to be over the moon happy, not like he was with his ex, Risa, years ago. She broke his heart when she moved to Italy to study fashion. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge when I haven’t seen them interact, but this should be interesting. I’ll call it sibling instinct.
A loud rumble from a motor ensues, and the carousel jumps to life, slowly moving counterclockwise while a plane-full of people anxiously wait for their luggage. Everyone is doing the best they can to stand as close as possible to the small black door flaps where the luggage will be arriving.
One bag drops out, and an object I can’t quite make out parts the zipper. The closer it comes, the clearer the situation—an exposed pair of men’s underwear is what is on display. I’d leave my luggage here if that was mine.
“How was your flight?” Bradley asks.
“It was fine. It was a flight without nuts, pretzels, or water. I had to pay five dollars to use the bathroom and five more to turn the air on above my head.”
“What in the world? No nuts?” Bradley raises a father-like brow at me.
“I’m kind of kidding, but this à la carte business has gone too far.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. We just got back from Brussels a few weeks ago, and we had to pay more for our food on the way home than what we paid for our seats.”
Brussels. He’s living quite a lavish life at twenty-seven. I might sound jealous if I were to say that out loud, but I’ve been living in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in downtown Hartford with Gracie. With how expensive the rent was, it was kind of like we were living in a modern-day prison. I’ve been in school prison. Now, I have two college degrees and no job offer. What was the point?
I’ve considered college being a period where people between the ages of eighteen to twenty-two are tied down within confinement and surrounded by displays of inappropriate behavior.
“Neon-pink polka dots. Can I take a guess ...” Bradley says, watching my bags tumble onto the moving belt. I love pink, but it might be the only girly thing about me. So, Bradley has always used the pinkness against me.
“Good guess,” I tell him. “At least my underwear isn’t hanging out the side of my bag like that poor schmuck down there.” I look down the row to see who claimed the bag, but of course, the man who has the peek-a-boo suitcase is standing right beside us, and I just made his situation a touch worse.
The man looks over at me while tucking his belongings back between the zipper fly. “It happens to everyone at some point,” he says.
“It sure does,” I tell him, smiling my heart out, so he knows I was only kidding.
“You never change,” Bradley utters with a parental sigh.
Bradley removes my bags from the belt, then lifts each one to inspect it for damage. If one of them were damaged, we would be in the claims office, filing a report. That’s how Bradley operates.
“We’re good. Kat and her sisters are waiting for us at the Starbucks across the street. Her sisters had earlier flights, and I didn’t want to make them all wait around here for hours, so we took them for lunch and showed them a couple of tourist spots. They seem like nice girls, though.” I take it he hasn’t met them before today. At least I’m not the only one in the dark.
“Oh, good.” Why does this feel like the oddest setup? “Are they normal?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley asks, jerking his head back, taking offense to my question.
“Like, what do they do? Did the girls just graduate too? Are they twins or something?”
“Yeah, they’re identical twins, and they just graduated from Virginia Tech. They both got job offers in Savannah, which is just about twenty minutes from where you’ll be living. I don’t think they start work for a few weeks though, so you’ll have time to bond.”
“They both got job offers?” I question. “What do they do?”
“One of them is a research sociologist, and the other is a marketing assistant for a production company.”
“I guess they like research,” I say.
“It’s cute,” Bradley counters.
“What does Katarina—Kat do for a living?” I should know this. I’ve spoken to Bradley more than enough times throughout the last year that I should know something about his fiancée.
“She’s also in marketing research.”
Ah, yes, it’s a family affair.
“You are just full of surprises.”
“Speaking of which, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you more about the development you’ll be living in.”
“You said it wasn’t in an alley, and that’s good enough for me.”
Bradley’s lips screw into an odd smile. “Okay then, I guess you can see for yourself. You read through the lease agreement forms carefully, right?”
“Yes, Bradley. You sound like Dad, and that’s not a good thing.”
“Thank you,” he says, his voice deepening with authority. “Do you have any questions at all?”
I tap my finger against my chin as if I am thinking. “Yes, actually. Is there mold in the apartment? Not that I care if there is, but it sounds like something you’re expecting me to ask.”
“No, there isn’t mold, and you should care because that can cause health issues.”
“Is it haunted?”
“No,” he sighs.
“Then we’re good, big bro.” I slap my hand against his chest, and we head out of the airport.
I follow Bradley out through the parking garage and over to visitor parking. He reaches into his navy-blue dress pants and pulls out a weird looking key. Two chirps echo in the nearby vicinity, and then I see the glow of lights flicker from behind a pickup truck.
My eyes go wide when I spot his car. “Is that an Aston Martin?” I almost choke on my question. I can only assume he’s selling drugs on the side.
“Sure is,” he says. “I know what you’re probably thinking, but it’s worth the cost.”
“Yeah, so is my invisible car.”
“Things will pick up once you get a job out here. Don’t worry.” I thought by getting my college degree, all the other parts would fall into place for me. I was so wrong.
Me? Worry? Why would I? I couldn’t get a job in Connecticut, so I should have higher hopes for the state, in which, I’m becoming a resident. I open the passenger side door and plummet into the slip-and-slide party of this brown-leather deep-bucket seat.
The ride is smooth, noiseless, and quick. Just as Bradley said, the Starbucks is across the street, and before I’ve blinked a few times, we’re in park, facing the floor to ceiling windows of the green and brown coffee shop. I wonder if they’re watching us right now or what their first impression of me will be.
It takes every muscle in my stomach to lurch my body out of the low car. I must look like I’m falling out of an overfilled clown-mobile. So, hopefully, they’re watching. This is me. Ashley Spencer, Grade A Klutz, but still #winningatlife.
“I should have asked earlier,
but the apartment has furnishings, right? You were living there before, you said?”
“Yes, it’s furnished. Everything is modern. I think you’ll like it.”
Bradley has never had exquisite taste per se, but apparently, he can now decipher between a high-quality pair of pants and those from the Walmart men’s department That’s also new to me. He never cared about fashion or pricey items, but I almost fell out of his Aston Martin. I think it’s safe to say I don’t know who my brother has become.
Bradley opens the door to Starbucks and holds it open for me to walk in. Also, new. Back in the day, he’d walk in first and let the door hit me in the face, big brother style. “When did you become such a pleasant person?” I ask him.
“Blame Katarina. I guess she has the magic touch—"
“Stop. No touching. Please.”
I spot three women off to the side of the nearly-empty Starbucks.
No.
Come on.
This is a joke.
A quick intermission note
When I look in the mirror, I’m happy with the way I look. I’ve spent years growing my ashy-blonde highlighted amber hair out, so it curls and hangs in a celebrity style fashion. I watch what I eat and run daily to maintain my slim figure because I haven’t met Mr. Right yet, and I’m in my prime. I’m also five-one, and a pound for me is like ten to a taller person. Other than that, I’m more of an au-natural type—freckly with rosy cheeks, and leprechaun green eyes to boot. Despite knowing I could die a single woman, I don’t feel the need to look the part of the golden, single-gem ready to be snatched up. I’ll settle for the last pick at a kickball game. In any case, I fit in, but I don’t stand out.
Three brunettes with perfectly smooth, shiny hair, resting halfway down their backs. They’re seated, but I can tell they’re tall by their structure and the way they all have their bare legs crossed diagonally beneath the table. They could be triplets.
None of them are smiling or talking with one another. The women look a little robotic as a matter-of-fact. I don’t think I’ve ever sat up as straight as they’re sitting.
As we come closer to their table, one of them lifts her coffee and takes a sip. So, they move. That’s something.
“Katarina,” Bradley calls out.
The pod person swivels in her seat as if she has a broken neck. I think someone might have cued a spotlight too because her face is glowing. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Her skin is flawless, lightly tanned. Her make-up is less natural than what I wear, but still modest. She smiles as if on cue. Her smile must be fake. No one’s teeth are that white or straight. Why does she want Bradley? I feel my eyes narrow into a squint as I wander through my last thought.
The other two girls don’t turn around. It’s as if they weren’t summoned, so they avoid doing so. Weird.
Katarina stands from her chair. She’s easily five-foot-ten, but she’s wearing four-inch stilettos. “This is my little sister, Ashley,” Brad introduces me.
Katarina holds her hand out, but in a way that her knuckles are pointing at me. Does she want me to kiss her hand? No thanks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She speaks too, and I suppose that’s another something.
“Same,” I reply, cupping my fingertips under hers, awkwardly, to shake and not kiss her hand.
“These are my sisters, Kricket and Krow,” she says, waving her hand at the table.
Oh my God. I swallow the laughter bubbling in my throat. I want to meet their parents now.
“I love your names. They’re so original,” I offer, hoping to make one crack a smile.
“Thanks,” one of them says. “I’m Kricket.”
“That must make you Krow?” I ask, holding my focus on the other identical sister.
“You’re correct,” she answers.
Well, this is just going to be the most fun ever. “I am so excited to be roommates with you two. I have so many decorating ideas. Do you guys like to decorate? I feel like that’s the part that makes a place feel like home.”
“We’re not quite the decorating type, but have at it,” Kricket says.
“Cool.” Awesome, yeah. I’m trying here.
They both take a sip from their coffees, in unison. I’ve been known to make friends with a wall. It’s a true story. Freshman year, I had a little too much to drink and, well … the wall was the only support system I had that night. I named him Fred.
Anyway, this is going to be rough, but I need to remember I’m not paying rent, and I don’t have a gun to my head with a threat to get a job.
“Ready to head over to the house, ladies?” Bradley asks as a general question.
“Sure!” I answer, enthusiastically, making myself sound child-like in the presence of these demur-like creatures. Katarina slips her fingers into Bradley’s hand, waiting for him to make the first move.
It’s like her gesture was the permission he needed to start walking.
Queue the Twilight Zone music as we make our way over to the dumpster in the dark alley where I will probably be rolled into a moth-like cocoon and hung by a string in the basement—if there is a basement. Maybe I should hope there isn’t a basement.
Chapter 3
Well, this is fun. I’m in the backseat, not meant for a human body of normal proportions, squished between The Addams Family twins. “Could we crack a window and turn up the music a little?” I asked. Bradley was always the guy with his car windows down in fifty degrees. That’s what the heat is for, he would tell me. Now, we’re stuck like stuffed sausages in this vehicle with shared air. It doesn’t smell awful, but there are too many different scents. Between Bradley’s cologne, whatever perfume Katarina is wearing, and what the other two have on, it smells like someone poured a bunch of oils into a diffuser and none of them are complementary to each other.
“I can turn the air up,” Katarina suggests. “We don’t like the window open.”
Of course, you don’t. Why would you want the windows open in sunny Georgia?
“Are we near Tybee Island yet?”
“We’re only about ten minutes away now,” Bradley answers.
“Can we turn the music up?” Why am I starting to feel like a bored child in the backseat?
“Please don’t. I have a headache,” Kricket or Krow says, lifting her focus momentarily from her phone.
I lost track of who was who when we all got into the car. Maybe if they weren’t both dressed from head to toe in black, I could decipher them easier.
I tap my fingers on my legs, having nowhere else to move and nothing else to do. I can’t even reach for my phone because my purse is under Bradley’s chair. We ran out of space. Clearly.
“Did you get that?” One of the twins says to the other.
A huff of laughter emits from the other twin. “Sure did.”
They’re talking about me, and we’re all sitting less than an inch apart.
Ten minutes slowly tick by as I’m watching the numbers change on the dashboard. “Here we are,” Bradley announces.
I glance out of the side window—or try to glance out the window, but twin A is leaning forward, and the window isn’t large enough.
I turn to the other side, and twin B is also leaning forward. What is this?
All I can see in front of me is the white wall the car is parked behind.
Bradley presses the ignition button, which unlocks the doors. I have the urge to reach across one of the twins to open the door and throw myself onto the street. “I guess we’re here,” I tell them.
Neither of them moves as they continue conversing on their phones, probably with each other. We can all talk inside, maybe ...?
Twinsess A finally opens her door, and I slide across the seat to step out, finding a terracotta siding on each side of the car. Maybe Bradley is dropping me off at a fixed-up type of prison. I’m sure it’ll be an improvement from my apartment in Hartford.
Bradley tends to the trunk and begins unloading the luggage. I’m even more thankful now that I had most o
f my stuff shipped. I’m assuming the twins did too because I’m the only one with two bags. They both have one. Theirs are Louis Vuitton, while mine are both a TJ Maxx special. Maybe this is my Cinderella story without the handsome prince.
“Just over here, guys.” In silence, we follow Bradley and Katarina around the corner. The white-washed sidewalk becomes an area of light peach stone pavers, forming a large enclosed circular space, lined with palm trees, beds of small white rocks, garden lights, and other botanical plants.
The houses are like row houses, but in a half circle, each one designed differently—each one a different pastel color. There must be a ten to twelve interconnected villa-like houses, and toward the back, there are arches in between two of the sections, leading out to a golden-sand beach.
This place isn’t an alley, a dumpster, or a prison. This place is like winning the lottery.
“You helped build this place?” I question Bradley.
“Usually that’s what happens when you receive a degree in architecture,” he drawls. Plus, with his financial investment expertise, Bradley is set for life. Jerk.
This lifestyle is what Katarina is after. It must be. That’s why she’s made him have fake hair and wear fancy clothes.
I don’t like her or her bat twin sisters.
Bradley passes the keys over to me. I cup my hand around the cold metal. “Which one is ours?”
“The white one in the back.” The only white house among the sea of beach-colored siding.
“I can’t thank you enough, Bradley.” I reach over and give him a big squeeze. “You’re the best brother.”
Katarina clears her throat. “Why don’t we go look inside. Bradley and I have completely cleared the space out, so you don’t have to worry about our things getting in the way. We left the furniture and some other necessities to get you started, but I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
“When did you two move out?” I ask.
The Bachelor Beach: The Love Connection Series - Villa One Page 2