Olivia let out a laugh and sighed. Her brown hair bounced as we made our way down the stairs.
“When I was first-apartment hunting, I almost moved into this place up on East 103rd street that I swear had a meth lab in it. So it could be worse!” she said, carefully descending the staircase. “Besides, you can’t really smell blood. It doesn’t have a smell.”
“I can smell it,” I said, emphatically. “And someone was definitely murdered in that building.” I pointed back up the stairs.
“You’re a liar,” she laughed, as we reached the bottom level of the building. “You can’t smell it.”
“There are two types of people in this world, Olivia,” I started, as I held the door to the outside world open for her. The light flooded over us as we made our way outside, and I suddenly felt grateful for the sun. “Those who can smell blood and those who can’t.”
The Village is my favorite area in Manhattan. Cute little boutiques and coffee houses, random cobble-stone streets, and not to mention the high-end shopping on Bleeker. You also see more dogs being walked around there than any other neighborhood. So when Amalia’s first apartment viewing didn’t go very well, I was still secretly enjoying my day. I tried to lift her spirits by taking her to Bosie’s Tea Parlor on Morton Street.
“I know it was disgusting, but I promise the next one will be better!” I said confidently as I led her toward the café. After all, it couldn’t get much worse.
We were walking fast, zipping through a crowd of young girls in black high-low dresses and chunky platform heels. A super-thin red-head then flicked her cigarette on the ground, nearly hitting me by accident.
“Seriously, Olivia, I felt something go through me in that apartment!” she said, dramatically shaking her head back and forth. “How can that guy afford $2,000 a month?”
“I have no idea,” I laughed. A couple of cute guys in suits walked past us. One of them smiled at me and I immediately turned red and looked away. Amalia was too irritated to notice them. I redirected my attention back to her and said, “Maybe the landlord doesn’t know he lives there either.”
“Ugh!” she gasped, jumping in the air and pretending to wipe things off of her clothes. “Okay, I am moving on. How far is this place we’re going to?”
“Just about a five-minute walk,” I said, taking the lead. “Calm yourself.”
I swung my handbag in front of me and dug around for my sunglasses. Realizing I had better savor the last few days of warm weather while I could.
“So, Amalia, you never told me about Brazil,” I dug around for my phone too while I was at it. “How was it?”
“Hot,” she said, slowing down. “Even hotter than today, if you can believe it.”
“Hot?” I raised an eyebrow. “You were gone for nearly three months, and that’s all you have to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” she came to a stop. Her eyes darted around the city. “You’re right, I’m totally pulling a Cassandra right now.”
“Pulling a what?” I asked, dropping the sunglass case back into my bag and reaching for my cigarettes, suddenly feeling a craving coming on. I grabbed her hand to steer her away from oncoming traffic.
“I’m being evasive. You know, like she always is,” Amalia shrugged. We crossed over to Bleeker and made our way to Morton Street. “Is there food at this place? I’m starving.”
“Yes, there is food,” I said, with fake anger. “But seriously, tell me about Brazil. Did you meet any guys?”
“No, that would be too obvious,” she said with a tight smile. “Little ole me runs away to Brazil, meets some hot guy named Gabriel, and sets up shop in Rio, only to be heard from by the occasional postcard.” She stopped walking again and I took the opportunity to light my cigarette. “Honestly, I spent a lot of time alone, thinking. All of the other time I spent with my cousin who lives there: Julia.”
“But you had a good time, right?” I slowly inhaled my cigarette. The smoke rushed through my lungs, and then out again as I slowly let the air leave my body. The craving leaving with a swift wash of relief.
“Yes”, she said with a smile. “It was fun. It was a vacation.”
“Alright,” I said, deciding to back off the subject for now.
“What about you and Alex?” she brightened up. “Are you officially a couple?”
It was the first time she had really said anything about me and Alex dating. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.
“Yes, officially,” I laughed. “There’s a certificate being printed as we speak.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said through a huge grin.
“I’m really happy with him, Amalia.” Just thinking about Alex made me feel warm inside. Like Amalia, he and I were hiding our relationship. Unlike Amalia we were both single at the time. We kept it a secret because I was worried about too much involvement from out tight-knit group of friends. As much as it had been fun and sexy sneaking around, it felt refreshing to be able to talk about it freely with my friend. I felt my cheeks flush and I dropped my head down in an effort to hide my blushing. “Let me just finish this cigarette and then we’ll go inside. Bosie is right around the corner.”
She slowly nodded at me then and turned her gaze toward the ground. Amalia stared at an old piece of gum stuck on the floor for a few seconds and then shook her head. She looked downcast and I worried I had said something wrong. Her blonde curls tousled around her face for a moment until she wiped her eyes, causing her hair to fall behind her ears. I faintly heard her nose sniff, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Amalia, are you alright?” I started, but her eyes were no longer on me. Her attention was caught by a young woman walking toward us. She looked sort of familiar, like maybe I had seen her picture before. She had very long, very dark, brown hair. Her skin was alabaster white, and as she got closer I could see she was a few years younger than us, most likely twenty or twenty-one years old. Amalia cocked her head to the side and lowered her eyebrows. I could tell she was searching too. Trying to figure out where she knew this girl from.
“Excuse me?” the girl shouted from halfway down the block. Her brown eyes were narrowed and fixed on Amalia.
“Yes?” Amalia and I both said in unison.
The girl made her way up to us and stood about a foot away from Amalia’s face. She was short, about five foot one or so. She wore plain, light-wash jeans and a brown T-shirt. Nothing spectacular. Minimal make-up except for black kohl liner on the inside of her bottom lids. Her pin-straight hair was tucked behind her ears in a child-like way. I noticed she was wearing a gold necklace with a single ruby floating in the middle of her neck. She looked like an average girl. If she hadn’t been darting towards us at high speed, we probably wouldn’t have noticed her.
Amalia looked at me for help, but I didn’t know what to do.
“Do you need directions?” Amalia offered.
The girl ignored her question and looked Amalia up and down. A scowl permanently fixed on her face.
Amalia anxiously started to look around, and then back down at the sidewalk.
“Is your name Amalia?” the girl advanced to her, raising her chin to meet Amalia’s gaze.
“Yes?” Amalia answered, her voice rising at the end.
“Do