Savage

Chapter 1: Imported

"This isn't working for me."

I squinted my eyes to erase the memory. I grabbed my purse and car keys from the coffee table and headed out the door. I sat in my car for a few minutes, before turning the ignition on and driving out of my apartment building's parking garage. I needed to get myself together mentally, for today. The sun beamed brightly penetrating the windscreen, yet all I felt was the cold air caressing my skin. A reminder that I had left the windows cracked in the car again. The sun was useless compared to the Canadian weather. I felt my nipples harden from the cold's touch. I continued driving as if I wasn't affected. My mind was numb. It held on to the memories of my past in an achingly stubborn way, which I hated. I was afraid to admit that this was my new reality. However, I accepted it. I turned a few blocks down before pulling up at a Starbucks close to the company where I worked. I parked in front and ran into the shop to order one caramel latte, a chocolate macchiato, two blueberry bagels, and two fruit bowls. I dashed to the car as if my life depended on it, without spilling anything, because I left my jacket on the passenger's seat before coming out into the cold. I placed the Starbucks bag on the seat next to me and buckled my seatbelt. Then with a loud sigh, I pulled away from the curb, drove past a few buildings, and turned into an underground parking garage where all my colleagues' cars were parked. You could tell a lot about a person sometimes, based on the car they drove and the condition the car was in. My car against these BMWs, Audis, and Chevrolets was out of place.

I pulled the Starbucks bag and my purse out of the car and placed them on the top of my car. Then I grabbed my beige jacket and slid it on, over my matching beige blouse and forest green pants, which had seams at the front. I grabbed both bags from the top of the car, after closing the door. The dark green Jeep came to life with a chirp after activating the alarm with the click of a button on the keys. My ballet loafers padded on the concrete softly, while I headed towards the underground elevator. I punched in the floor number and enjoyed the ride while I listened to terrible elevator music. I burst out laughing because the music was bad. The doors in front of me opened.

"Hi!"

I jumped a little as a hand grabbed me and pulled me toward a door, which opened into a familiar office space. The Starbucks bag was yanked from my hands and the intruder began pilfering the insides.

"Thank you, S! Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to get your ass here," Veronica half shouted. She didn't look at me until the straw of the macchiato was in her mouth.

"Yes, Lord! Thank you," she stated dramatically, throwing one hand in the air and looking up at the ceiling. I laughed.

I have known Veronica most of my life and she is my absolute best friend. I even consider her a sister, along with the little sister I already had. She had brown skin and eyes as dark as coal. Her long, black hair framed her beautiful face. She was the first Indian Lead Designer in the department and our manager made sure of it. She was talented at what she did. Losing sleep for what she was passionate about.

"When did you get here, Ronnie?"

She was in full black today, like always. Her lips were painted a matted rich, dark brown, that enhanced her exotic features. We were opposites. She loved her dark clothes and I loved my boho earth colours. She was dark brown in complexion and I was fair. We both had Jamaican roots though. That was where our friendship developed, especially after our parents found out. With that fact, began the endless sleepovers and family functions. I smiled at the memories.

She paused from sucking on the straw to answer. "Too early. I had some design work I had to finish up from last night, but I needed to sleep. So I slept." Then she wrapped her lush lips around the straw once more.