One more ring and Nikki swear she'd throw the irritating alarm clock across the room which, if she thought about it, like REALLY thought about it, was wrong in itself because that clock served a purpose, and that was to keep her lazy ass out of bed already. But it was a cold Sunday morning, and her bed was warm and cozy and she just wasn't ready to face the loud, hectic world outside yet. Oh, but her brother begged to disagree.
"Nichole!" His voice on the other side of the door sounded as though he was pissed in the slightest bit, but then again, Joe was never the one to throw a fit, anyway. "It's either you turn that alarm clock off or I will. It'll wake the neighbors up."
Like Nikki cared if she woke the neighbors. She cared, though, about what little sanity she had that this irritatingly loud alarm was mercilessly killing by the second. "I'm on it." She mumbled groggily against her Spongebob pillow. Too lazy to turn her body the whole way around, she let her hand feel and crawl its way to the bedside table where the Powerpuff alarm clock sat, that went off just then. "UGH!" Nikki grumbled for the hundredth time that morning and once caught by her irritated hand, the poor thing was sent flying into the air. And somewhere in the corners of her room it landed and somewhat crashed in pieces, if the sound of glass breaking was any indication. Like she could care any less, she'd buy a new one. Oh, but wait she was broke, wasn't she? That was why she had to force her body to get up because she had to work. Work as an eatery waitress. Great. Who works on a Sunday anyway? Of course, penniless kids like her, who else? It'd be so easy to ask money from her brother, if only she didn't have such a burden called pride and if only she didn't want that beautiful Canon camera too darn much.
"Hey, Nikki, aren't you gonna be late for work or something?" It was her brother's voice again over the sizzling sounds of whatever he was cooking in the kitchen downstairs. Sluggishly, she slid herself out of bed, half-moaning, half-whining. Whatever got her on her toes was the realization that her tummy was empty and angry. And Chef Joe's superb breakfast might just take all these negative vibes away.
The "downstairs" scene was pretty much like it was every day. The TV turned in the living room low, Isabelle, the little kid, playing and chasing an imaginary airplane around, in her usual hyper self, and Joe all panicky and rushing in the kitchen like the world depended on him. Nikki sat herself in one of the stools around the island and gave her brother a quick, acknowledging, good-morning glance. "So how was the show last night?" Nikki asked, grabbing a mug and pouring herself a coffee from the pot.
"Mmm." was all he said, his back on her. Okay, maybe now was not exactly the right time to ask him a particularly complicated question that needed a particularly complicated answer; he was running after time. "It was okay; it was a madhouse, actually." He supplied, turning around from the counter and balancing the plates that contained the bacon and fried eggs on his arms. Nikki automatically scrambled up from her seat to help him, giving him a reprimanding look that said "You ain't superman, you know!" Joe let out one long wave of breath and let Nikki do the rest of the work. "So madhouse, eh?" Nikki asked, placing the dishes on their rightful places.
Her brother and six of his friends formed this little dance crew that no one except family really knew about. It was like a secret society composed of members that were college professors and medical technologists and chefs by day and mysterious, masked dancers by night. They wore white masks, so no one knew about their identities, which was neither an advantage nor a disadvantage. The fact of the matter is was that they were awesome dancers, and they put on amazing shows at different clubs every weekend for those fans who were willing to follow them around the city.
"Yep. The crowd loved us. Indigo Nightclub was on fiya!" Joe bragged proudly before taking a sip of coffee from his Tazmanian mug. Joe was fond of Devil, for some reason. "One fan was actually brave enough to take her top off and throw it at Phil."
Nikki's eyes snapped up suddenly from her plate at the sound of Phil's name. Phil was well, Phil was her brother's friend and well, something more, if she had the courage to say so herself. Mmm. A fan being wild in front of Phil? On the one hand, it was possible that the girl was just drunk… and got out of control. On the other, well… maybe Phil was being his flirtatious little self and… hold up, why was she overthinking this? It wasn't as though she gave a damn at all. So what if that girl went topless for Phil? So what if she threw her top at him? So what if he liked it? Mmm… She gotta stop. She gotta stop now, otherwise Joe might read her mind and be all…
"Hey, you okay?" See? He was good.
"Yeah, of course. Why shouldn't I be?"
"Nothing, you got a little pensive for a while back there." He said with a knowing smirk on his face.
"Pensive?" Nikki back-fired defensively. "What do you mean 'pensive'?"
"I mean, you know, thoughtful and…"
"Of course I know what 'pensive' is… Just because you graduated with straight A's doesn't mean…" Her tone of voice was rising…
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, chill it, Nik. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Joe was smiling secretly behind his mug though.
"Don't think I can't see your evil grin from here." And Nikki was smiling, too.
"Anyway…" Joe set his mug said, and sank back in his chair, looking nothing short of impish, "The security hauled her off the room. And boy was it scandalous."
"How scandalous?"
"I'd rather not tell."
"Oh, come on. What happened?"
"Oh, youmeanhowdidPhilreacttoit?" He spat out quickly, almost inaudibly.
"Wha—" Nikki's eyebrows knotted together. "Why would you assume that I'd be interested in Phil's…" Nikki stopped in midsentence when the smile on her brother's lips grew wider. She folded her arms across the span of her chest and glared at him.
"What?" He shrugged in false innocence, the naughty grin still plastered on his face relieving some much more. "Belles!" And then of course, like all conversations his brother had intriguingly wanted to be left hanging, this one had to end, too.
With tiny pitter-patters against the carpeted floor, Isabelle, Joe's 5-year-old daughter, rushed into the kitchen and went straight to the space between her daddy's legs. Joe lifted her right arm and sniffed her armpit and playfully screwed his face up, "Mmph. Smells like vinegar mixed with mayonnaise mixed with bottled pickles." He did his funny voice, putting on a scary face. "You're good enough to eat." Isabelle giggled helplessly as her dad nuzzled his nose against the fold of her underarms, sniffing her downy skin rowdily. "Tickles!" Isabelle screamed, her tiny hands gripping Joe's hair and trying to push him off of her armpit. Her shrill voice made Nikki's head throb like a bitch.
Nikki shook her head at them. These two idiots deserved each other, she thought, and began eating.
Joe and Isabelle did deserve each other, and somehow, deep inside her, if she cared enough to dig up, ('cause really, she wasn't the sentimental type) Nikki was devotedly thankful for that. 'Cause all Joe and Isabelle had was each other. The mom had long been lost in the picture. The unconscientious bitch, as Nikki had decided to call her. Joe's served as Belle's both mom and dad, and in Nikki's perception, he was doing a good job. Growing up together with her, Joe had always been the nurturing type and Nikki knew that for a fact because Joe would always be the one to wash and put dressing on her wound whenever she caught an accident, or the one who'd rush to the pharmacy to get her the painkillers she needed for her dysmenorrhea. Hell, even if Nikki wasn't crazy enough to it say out loud, she knew in her heart Joe was still taking care of her now, even in her 20th year in this world. Her - who should have been independent from family support by now. But Joe was Joe. And family to him was the greatest gold. So no matter what the law on the "if your kid is 18 and above" issue states, Joe kept her in his Sac home, and well, gave her the 50-50 freedom, slash, dependence that was convenient for her at the moment. And yeah, okay, Nikki could admit, maybe sometimes they were each other's pain in the ass, but they did care about each other. Albeit subconsciously.
"I feel like pooping." Innocently little Belle said, while Nikki chewed her piece of bacon adoringly. Great. She was enjoying her food and the kid talks about shit. Jesus. . She stopped in mid-chew and glowered menacingly at the pouting child.
Joe laughed and high-fived with his daughter, the ass, taking her hand and leading her to the rest room.
"Burn in hell!" Nikki screamed with her mouth full, her voice muffled.
Joe's laughter grew louder as they disappeared further down the hall.