Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 8-4

Ghita had a dress in her hand and a shoe in the other that could be used as a projectile. Aaliyah, with her claws out, was about to jump on her sister.

"I chose this dress before you, bitch!" yelled Aaliyah.

What they were arguing about couldn't have been just a dress. There had to be something more serious behind it. I took a deep breath and stepped between them.

"Okay, everybody, calm down. What's the problem? I'm a completely neutral and fair person. I'll make the call."

"Aaliyah wants this dress from Kalpitia, but it was for me. It was agreed with the team," Ghita said.

Aaliyah spoke directly to me in response to Ghita's words, completely ignoring her sister. "She didn't want it anymore! Ghita even chose another one and now she suddenly wants this one back. I've already decided on this dress for the Fashion Tradition show in New York at the end of December."

"Is this a joke?" I stammered.

The words came out of me faster than I wanted.

"Your event is in two months. Aaliyah, you have plenty of time to find another one, right?"

"Ronney, do you even know how long it takes to design a custom designer dress?" Aaliyah asked.

"This one isn't in your size," intervened Ghita, restarting the argument. "You are smaller than me and have no curves."

I raised an eyebrow. No curves? The bodies of the two sisters were both retouched and inflated.

"What if you wore the same dress?" I asked.

Both sisters turned to me, looking bewildered.

"No way," Aaliyah said. "The Thanksgiving gala is the event of the year. Each designer chooses their muse and parades her in the most beautiful of their creations. Kalpitia chose me. Ghita has to select her own stylist and work with them. The problem is that my sister is unable to work. It has always been like that."

Ghita deftly grabbed Aaliyah's arm and she retaliated by trying to bite her.

"Bitch! I forbid you to say such a thing. Your fat head should be deflated with your fat ass," Ghita shouted between two sobs.

They were throwing punches now. Camilia threw her hands in the air, begging her girls to stop their fight. She helped me separate them, but the two harpies continued to exchange blows and insults with rage. Suddenly, a hand slammed into my cheek and sent my glasses flying across the room. Everyone froze in place and a deafening silence filled the room. I couldn't see anything. I squatted on the ground and began to look for my glasses. Camilia, irritated, ordered her girls to help me.

"Congratulations, girls. You can be proud of yourselves!"

"There!" exclaimed Ghita.

I heard footsteps running all around me.

"Shit!" whispered Aaliyah.

My blood ran cold. Why wasn't anyone talking? Standing up, I waited impatiently to put my glasses back on my nose. Except for silhouettes, I couldn't make out anything.

"Oh, no, Ronney. I'm sorry, but your glasses are broken."

Camilia's voice was unquestionable.

"What am I going to do? I can't see anything."

Tears came to my eyes. I was panicked at the idea of having to stay like that for several days.

"I'll order another pair right away," said Aaliyah. "I'll put up the money to get them to you by tonight. Ghita, give me the number of a good optician."

I replied with a sobbing voice, "No, no, it doesn't work like that. It takes days to get the lenses with the right prescription. It's not a fashion accessory."

Camilia put a hand on my shoulder. Touched by my distress and in a flash of lucidity, she exclaimed, "Peter!"

"Yes, Peter," said Ghita.

"Only Peter can fix this," said Aaliyah. "I'll call him."

Whispers went around the room. Camilia put pressure on her assistant so that he would find a solution as fast as possible so that I could recover my sight. Fresh fingers touched my face and raised it slightly. I recognized Peter's voice.

"I don't know anyone who can make or lend her glasses today with a prescription as important as hers."

"So? What do you suggest?" Camilia said, growing impatient.

"Aaliyah? Is your friend who makes and sells those contact lenses all over California still in town?"

"Jordan? Yes, he's here right now. Of course, I didn't think about him."

"Contact lenses? But I've never worn them. I don't know if I can put them in or even comfortably wear them."

Peter's tone hardened.

"Unfortunately, MissJimenez, you don't have much of a choice." He let go of my face and added witha sigh, "I hope the result won't be worse than your glasses."