" That's not fair and you know it," He gritted, " You're not the only one who blames themselves for his death."
" He's dead because of me, Exodus!" I yelled before I could even stop myself, " It should've been me laying in the fucking casket, not...
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Now playing.. Those Days, by Zuhair ... TORONTO, CANADA
" SO, WHEN IS THE NEXT Exhibition going to be? I need to know what day so I can clear my schedule that entire week just to help,"Nneka questions, setting aside her glass of white wine before taking a bite of her salad.
I set aside half empty plate of lasagna, wiping my mouth on a napkin. " I'm not sure, honestly. But from what Medjine told me, there are some new buyers coming to the show to see my work. And she wants me to get as much as my new painting done so she can set everything up."
" Mm, so the only painting you have to work on is the one you've been working on for the past week and a half?"
I nod, taking a sip of my water. " Mhmm. I already finished my other paintings for the exhibition, this one is just taking longer than the others because of the detailing."
" And you're a perfectionist," she pointed out, laughing softly.
I rolled my eyes, crossing my legs underneath the table. " Okay, not too much on me. And besides, you're not any better. If nothing at the boutique even looks remotely appealing or in place correctly, you give your employees hell."
Nneka shrugged, " I don't like half ass shit, plus I pay my employees good money, therefore if they want their paycheck to look good, they have to work for it."
Nneka runs an authentic Nigerian boutique that sells the finest qualities of fabrics such as Agbadas, Dashikis, Iro ate Buba, and more. Her employees -- Chioma, Fatima, Adaku, Kehinde, and Adanna -- Come from Nigeria and are of Yoruba and Igbo descent. I've visited the boutique plenty of times, and their creativity and beauty never ceases to amaze me. all clothing were handmade, and Nneka had her own designated sewing machine along with her other workers in the boutique that were placed at the back of the building.
" Mm!" Nneka snaps her fingers, then presses her elbows on the table. " Guess who came by the boutique last weekend?"
" Who?" I inquired, tilting my head to the side.
She gives me a look, " Girl, who else?"
" Oh, how did that go?" I winced, knowing exactly who she was referring to.
Nneka rolls her eyes, " How else? Just the same bullshit story sprinkled with lies,"
" At some point he needs to grow up," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. " It's seriously getting ridiculous,"
Bryson -- her ex -- was infamous for his lies and manipulation tactics. We all attended the same college, and he was the quiet one who always sat in the back of the class. Bryson graduated long before we ever did, yet his intelligence was that of a man child. Probably due to the fact that he never had decent home training when he grew up.
