Diamonds Dancing

Twenty Seven

Slater Ivanov was not kidding when he said he could buy out the whole store.

The delivery man patiently awaited her response, standing with a clipboard in his hands whilst she tried to keep up with the many people passing by. So many packages, from big to small, each containing different kinds of dolls littered the crowded foyer.

Taking the board from him, she grabbed the pen he was holding out for her and started to sign away. "Let me guess, another order for LittleDiva dolls?" She grumbled unhappily, making the stranger's lip curl upwards.

He moved to the side to let yet another delivery of dolls inside, before dragging his eyes over the woman dressed in a fluffy looking dressing gown. She appeared half-asleep as a wild yawn escaped.

"Unfortunately, no." The voice confessed, causing her to flash him an apprehensive look. "This is to confirm that you've received your order of temporary tattoo stickers. All three thousand and five hundred sheets of them."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her skull, handing the board back.

Clearly, he was not right in the head.

He was a very confusing man, it was hard trying to grasp what kind of role model and father he was. He could have his stern moments, but on an average day—he found it highly engaging to let his children do things that normal kids would be scolded for.

Lilia's attitude mimicked his, and it was moderately terrifying at times.

Her latest obsession of drawing on everything and anything, including herself and her bedroom walls, was encouraged instead of scolded by him. He had purchased washable markers and stick on tattoos to let her imagination roam freely.

"She's five years old..." She said out loud, shaking her head, her dark eyes caught ahold of the pair of Egyptian blue ones.  "Please, tell me you find that as ridiculous as I do so I don't feel like I'm totally losing it."

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, a navy blue cap and matching uniform filled her vision. "Hey, don't bring me into this, I'm merely the messenger here. May I?" He motioned behind him, pointing at the big cardboard box on the ground.

Rika breathed out a long sigh, going onward to move away from the door frame.

"Of course."

She smiled, watching as he bent over to pick up the heavy box. A low grunt followed, and he picked the box up.

"I would ask where you want it, but I'll save you the stress and leave it here. That alright with you?" His accent was the typical Brooklyn accent, she couldn't help but be reminded of her ex-landlord and good friend.

Nodding, she felt a light breeze from the open door waver her bare legs, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "That'll be perfect... Now the real task is finding a place for all of this." She snorted, more so talking to herself than anyone.

It was far too early in the morning to be doing any tasks, but she figured she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep for a while until the unboxing was done.

"It's a shame I have more deliveries because I would've loved to stay and watch you attempt to do that." The teasing comment made her lift her brows, she could've sworn she saw him wink at her.

"You'll just have to text me, and tell me how it went instead." He said smoothly, she couldn't tell if he was serious or not. But then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a mobile phone, and her throat dried up.

Was he seriously flirting with her when she looked currently looked like a hot mess, she thought to herself.

A nervous laugh withdrew from her, and she tucked her messy hair behind her ear.

"I guess I could do that," Awkward would be an understatement, the whole thing was making her cheeks flame. "I'm Rika, by the way."

"Archie."

Retrieving the phone from him, she typed her digits in one by one.

• • •

Her morning encounter led her to miss one person in particular, Marco.

Balancing the phone closer to her ear with her shoulder, her laughter came out in strings. "—Sounds like you had a great time, did you take plenty of pictures like promised?"

She listened to his reply on the other end, "I sure did, how did you want them, emailed to you or delivered by a dove?" He retorted sarcastically, "You're asking for a lot. First, the phone call, and now this. I barely know how to work a phone, what more do you want from me, woman."

Rika giggled, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter and she flipped over the pancake. When she saw that it was a perfect shape, she did a little happy dance—thankful that no one was awake yet.

"Sue me for being excited to see what the three humans you helped create look like." She explained, finishing another pancake and adding it to her ever-growing pile.

Pouring another batch of the batter into the pan, she heard the light sizzling start again.

Marco's familiar chuckle sounded, "You know they asked about you, they wanted to know if the woman who wrote to them was my new wife."

She beamed, "And?"

"I told them the truth; 'she bloody wishes she was.'"

Another eye roll, she clicked her tongue. "Give me a few more years to catch up at least, Marco, you're one difficult man to win over, I'll tell you that."

There was some noise and shuffling before he responded. "A few more years? Ha, yeah right!" Disbelief clear in his tone, he continued to say, "I'm sure your lovely boss will agree with me when I say that age doesn't bother you."

She blushed intensely, picturing his smug expression without him needing to be there. "Very funny." She stated bluntly.

Like a concerned parent, she could sense the uneasiness in his tone.

"I trust it you've managed to keep things professional, you never know with these pretentious celebrities nowadays. They're don't have the same kind of compassion for people like us, one minute they'll be friendly and act like they're good people to us poor folk by giving us jobs, and the next, you'll be thrown back onto the streets, fending for yourself."

Swallowing back her raging anxiety, she started at the pancake blankly.

Did he know?

When he ended his rant with the mind-numbing sentiment, she started to really question everything. "People like us are replaceable, Sato."

It was in her head, she told herself. How would Marco know anything when she hadn't even told him half of it?

"Have you had too much to drink or something?" She rasped, dragging out her words deliberately slow. "I'm the nanny, how many times do I have to tell you. Nothings going on. But, enough about that, I want to know more about your weekend..."

She managed to steer the conversation away from the mention of her boss, listening as his deeper voice took over.

Muted, she toyed with his prophecy, finding it odd how it sounded more like a foreshadowing of what was to come than a warning.