Cupboard Love

C H A P T E R 7

AN ENEMY IN THE SHAPE OF A FRIEND?

RUEN

Fascinated, I observed Amelia's flustered face change as she tried to find the words to tell me how sorry she was or probably to convince me not to tell my grandfather about the accident. She came up short and she settled with, "I'm sorry."

When I saw her looking so dejected, it evoked an emotion that I dared not define so, instead of continuing to make fun of her, I tapped her shoulder, "Hey! It's ok. He doesn't have to know."

He wouldn't even care even if he knew. I was still alive so no harm's done in the deal.

"I shouldn't have brought you there."

"It was an accident. That's just it."

"I'll have those people fired for being incompetent!" Her fear of angering my grandfather is making her angry and clouding her judgment.

"You'd really wanna do that?" I looked at her intently. Her eyes met mine and I could see her doubt.

"I—"

"Don't do the second thing you'll end up regretting in the end."

"Second?"

"Acting out in anger," I said.

Finally lowering her guard, she asked, "What's the 'first' then?"

Ice pack in hand, I relaxed into as I put it on my left shoulder. I mulled over whether I should tell her about the mess she'd get herself into and agreed a fair warning was in order, "Marrying into the Vasquez family."

She was silent for a minute. I got up and headed to the kitchen. I kept the ice pack on my shoulder as I reached for bottled water in the refrigerator. When I closed the refrigerator and turned, I bumped into Amelia.

"Uummphhh!"

She was taller than I was so when I bumped into her; it was more like my face buried in her ample chest—not that I minded it.

I knew she had a nice pair. I could admire them even from afar.

'Wow! Seriously, down girl!'

"Are you trying to make me back out of the wedding?"

Not able to compose myself quickly after that, I gave her no answer. In her frustration, she grabbed my shoulder and shook me a little to get my attention. Having felt her hand on my still sore shoulder made me shout out in pain.

"Ooww!"

Focusing on breathing through the jolts of stings, I turned away from her and leaned back against the counter with my right hand on my left shoulder.

"Shit! Gosh, I'm so sorry."

Determined to get some distance between us, I ignored her and went back to the living room. I was putting ice into another pack when she appeared.

"Sorry." She said as she handed me the unopened water bottle that I've dropped. I took it after placing the ice pack on my shoulder.

'Sorry'. How many times do I have to hear that?

She sat beside me. Balancing the ice pack on my shoulder, I opened it. I gulped down half of it and put the bottle on the table. The movement caused the ice pack to fall off my shoulder. Good thing Amelia caught it before it hit the floor. I was about to take it from her when she reached to pull down my shirt. Doing this gave her a full view of the angry reddening bruise on my left shoulder.

"It's really bad. Don't you want to get something for the pain?" She used her free hand to touch my bruised shoulder and I swear the current that coursed through my skin overpowered the discomfort.

Hot damn!

"It's red, tender and it hurts like all other fresh bruises. Are you done looking?" Trying to hide how affected I was, I laughed it off. I took a deep breath. I didn't expect my body to react like that to her touch.

"Um, yes... sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Letting go of my shirt, she put the ice pack back on my shoulder.

"We're getting married. You can touch me anytime, anywhere." Smiling at her as she quickly removed her hand on my shoulder, I stressed, "Feel free to."

She withdrew her hand and moved a little to the side. Surprised at her sudden nervousness, I sat properly and faced her. An unguarded Amelia was perfect gauging her motives in this grand scheme.

'What's in it for you?'

"My name is Ruen. I am 26 years old. I finished high school but did not go to college." Shocked, Amelia was not able to say anything. I introduced myself the way the media portrayed me. "A third of the Vasquez's properties, businesses, and stocks are under my name. As I said earlier, I did not go to college, so I am not in the position to manage the business. I'm a trust fund girl. No work, all play."

Her frown deepened but good thing I stopped myself short of having my fingers straightening her creased soft skin. "So tell me about yourself, Amelia."

"Well, you know my name. You've met my parents. And, if you happen to watch TV or read the gossip rags, then you already know me," she said, shrugging. "What's there to add?"

"Then you're the actress who took the entertainment world at the age of 16. With numerous awards and nominations, you're what they call the next big star to grace the industry."

"Wow. They really say that about me?" grinning, she continued. "You've told me all the good stuff. Now, tell me about the awful things that you've read"

"You're the big producer and director's mistress, the beauty that slept her way to the top."

Expressionless eyes looked at me, "So, what if it's true?"

"Are you going to keep seeing him even after the wedding?"

"It's none of your business who I see and go out with even if we're married; I won't be dictated by you."

Surprised by her outburst, I can only imagine what the future fights and fall-outs this ill-fated match would bring. I reached for the bottle and drank the remaining water. Counting to three to cool my head before saying anything, I paused and pondered on my response. If wanted to foster a sense of understanding between our hopeless situation, I shouldn't be attacking her.

"Being labeled as a mistress, I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you have little or even no regard to the sanctity of marriage." Mental slapping my careless mouth, I could see the smoke before the fire.

"Sanctity? Is that coming from drug-dependent alcoholic lesbian like you? I don't give a shit."

Drug dependent? Alcoholic? Well, it's understandable. She must have read those about me too.

Smiling, "So, you've read about me too. Who do they say I am?"

"Nothing that I already know. You really are a rich and entitled brat." She said still angry with me.

"What else do they say?" I asked.

"Did they also say that I may not really be Mr. Vasquez's granddaughter? That her daughter was far too young to give birth at the age of 15? That the premature baby must have died?"

"What are you saying?"

"Nobody has seen her daughter back here for the past 20 years. No other reports about me other than the one you've read that happened seven months ago. Am I really a Vasquez? Who's to say that I may or may not be?"

"Is that what you're trying to do? Make me back out of the wedding?" She stood and paced.

I' m giving you the chance to walk away. I'm giving you the choice I never had.

"Who are you? Just who do you think you are? Are we done playing mind games here?"

I never got to answer because she left closing the door harder than necessary on her way out.

I leaned against the sofa and looked up.

Who am I?