FRAUD

VII

Copyright © 2023 by howblack

So... I'm not dead! It's been 7 months! Oh boy... My life has been going a little (not just a little, it's more like a lot) crazy lately, but don't worry, this book will be finished, I promise! 

Good reading, guys! Please, comment and remember this will be slowburn, chaotic, and dramatic, we are just getting started

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Despite the evolution in evidence, if we think calmly, only the primates reached their peak. We were still nomads of everything. Be it of house, apartment, profession, partner - sexual or otherwise, and especially, nomads of attitudes. Onika had the practice of not remaining stagnant, she was constantly changing. And this made her, at least every day, thrive.

Overall, she was not fearful. Neither with life nor with death. She was adventurous. Fearless. Occasionally, Onika, out of survival instinct, maintained some internal boundaries. A small, sharp alarm that always indicated when she was close to entering a dangerous zone.

By logic, when Onika is summoned to appear not only spiritually, as she herself had proposed. But also in person for an intimate meeting with her confinement friends, something sounded dangerous. She would be 3 full days sharing supplies and oxygen with nine other women again. Onika thought that if the first time had been a failure, why would they be trying again? Her other part, however, a rational part, reminded her that they were in a game, and all those disagreements had not become sequels. They remained shipwrecked in the twisted ways of the past.

Afterward, there was no turning back. Not when Onika planted her two feet on the green grass and inhaled her first whirlpool of sea air blowing in from the beach. She was in Barbados.

Onika assumes she has lost some of the mathematical and logical control that accompanies the skeptical notion of how many pairs of clothes are needed for a brief weekend trip. All this is discovered and retraced when she applies extra force to remove her luggage from the trunk and drag it through the gardens to Rihanna's miniature mansion.

"Oh, my God. I think I overdid it." Onika whispers, her cheeks flushed from the effort of pulling out her two suitcases.

Rihanna smiles in front of her, apparently reveling in Onika's consequences. She slips her free hand inside her purse, rummages through it briefly, and lifts it back up with the bunch of keys. The bajan slips one of them into the lock, and turns it clockwise, succeeding automatically in her action.

"You think so?" Rihanna asks, raising an eyebrow at Onika before opening the door. "I said you wouldn't have to worry. Just bring a bikini, T-shirts, and shorts. But it actually looks like you're going to replicate Paris Fashion Week, but for summer."

Onika inflates her cheeks like a spoiled child. "You know I get carried away." She smiles. "And consequently, I am completely out of control. After all, the primacy of a woman is to be so prepared that she never needs to need anything."

"Yes. I know." Rihanna smiles at her. As Rihanna sinks through the door and then Onika does the same, the bajan hears her sigh of admiration. "Welcome."

The entrepreneur is really impressed. The structure is divided between wood and bamboo, in the furniture, in the floor, or in knots artifacts. The few pieces of furniture they had were in a perfect circle that accompanied a small fireplace, modern and intimate. The glazing of the windows descended majestically to the floor, a kind of glass house option for those watching them from the outside. And pictures, so many pieces framed on the walls and forming a perfect circumference between the mini bar and the pool table.

"Holy shit." Onika curses as she explores her eyes across the expanse of the place. "It's perfect here."

Rihanna unloads her single suitcase next to the fluffy couch, tossing the keys on the desk. "This will be your home for this weekend. Feel like you're in your own home."