price of fame. [m.j]

Chapter 3 || New opportunities

ONYEIKA

I lazily lay my body sprawled across velvet black cutions, comforting myself with my legs tucked beneath me. The loveseat style sofa sits on the end of my bed, facing the wall in which a TV is propped against. And not just any, but a colour TV. I do appreciate the fortune I've made for me and my family, but I do feel lonely at times, although I have Michael...I have no other girl friends my age. It bothers me, yet I try to face the fact I can't be successful both socially and in my career. I just have to find a fair balance...somehow.

Three knocks echo the room, and I quickly jump up from the sofa, ripping my vision away from the TV and over to the sliding doors that lead out to my balcony. Michael sits on the edge of the balcony rails, and waves a cigarette packet around. I roll my eyes, knowing he just won't give up on trying to get me to smoke. 'It's magical' his voice echoes in my voice. Mhm, sure Michael. I can think if things far more magical.

I wonder over to the windowed doors, my bare feet pattering against the marble flooring, and I tighten my robe around my waist, although I'm wearing clothes beneath. Just to keep warm. Michael only wears a white t-shirt and black tracksuit pants, obviously fresh out of bed, and possibly just thrown a shirt on.

"Light one for me will ya honey?" Michael says, tossing the cigarette box over to me, along with a red lighter, and I sigh with a helpless smile, and throw it back over to him. Nice try. I settle myself next to him on the balcony rails, as they are thick concrete, so it's very hard to find an excuse to fall. It's still merely in between the dark skies of the night, but past the sunset, the sky a murky grey, but warm and oddly smelling of sea salt.

"You masturbate right?" Michael quickly interrupts before I can say anything further. I tuck my chin into my neck, and grimace at him, flaring my nostrils. Count on Michael to break an awkward silence.

"Well uh- I mean I have like once or twice but-" "great" he cuts in, as he takes out a cigarette, biting his teeth down onto it. I cock a brow at him, waiting for what possible explanation he'd have now.

"I know this new trick...your left hand...ever heard of it?" He says with the cigarette chewing between his teeth while he talks, nudging me, and I shrug him off with another grimace. He cups his palm around his mouth, and flicks the lighter, igniting the smoulder of the cigarette.

"What have your brothers told you now?" I say in disbelief, smiling briefly at the thought of a time when his brothers threw a condom packet it at him at a pool party. God I miss those days, being so clueless and simply enjoying life.

"If you use your left hand when you do ya thang..." he begins, leaning in closer to me, the strong iconic smell of the cigarette invading my nose as he talks, yet he holds the cigarette out to his left, far away from me. He hasn't even taken a puff yet.