Page 61 of Isolation
Raven herself has been working all day, and finally took a break for dinner. Our banter tonight includes discussing the shit those three used to pull when they were younger and thought I didn’t know about. Raven counters with what they think I have done back in my day.
Raven picks up her legs and tucks them under her, to get comfortable. She starts to list off all the dirt she has on me. I have probably done way worse than what she knows.
“Let’s see, I heard about how you toilet papered the neighbor’s house.”
“Lies.”
“How about the time you used chalk to draw a fake dead body on the same neighbor’s pavement, and then put police tape in front of it?”
“Character defamation. That never happened.”
Raven narrows her eyes. “Okay. Now I know this one happened, because multiple people have confirmed it. You and Brandon filled a beautiful box with dog poop, and then left it at Alexa’s doorstop for her birthday.”
“Poop is funny,” I say casually.
Raven shakes her head. “You are such a boy.”
“I was,” I protest. “We were ten.”
“Oh yeah? Then why did you guys give her the same gift on her birthday last year?”
“Hey,” I hold up a hand. “I want to go on the record and say that we did not gift her poop. We recreated an artificial dog poop model based on the original poop. It’s called a throwback to celebrate the fifteen-year mark. It’s not our fault Alexa doesn’t understand quality vintage.”
I expect our banter to continue, but Raven’s smile fades. “It hurt her feelings because she wanted you to do something thoughtful. You do know how Alexa feels about you, don’t you?”
Honest. Direct. And to the point. I feel somewhat apprehensive about the direction of this conversation, but Raven is slowly starting to be upfront with me. She deserves the same.
“I guess,” I give her an unsettled admission.
“Yet, you asked her to invest so I can start my own business. You had her promote my designs to her contacts. Don’t you think it was a little insensitive towards her feelings?”
I blink.
I have no idea how to take this.
“She didn’t play it cool,” Raven explains. “New York is filled with talented people who are looking for investors. Alexa hasn't seen me in years but within five minutes jumped on the bandwagon to invest in me. It was easy to put two and two together.”
Raven is talented. Extremely talented. Even when she was younger, I used to stare at her designs and wonder how she came up with something so creative.
Over the years, she was only active on social media to post outfits she designed. I saw every single one of her posts. Seeing them made me feel connected to her.
But talent like hers often becomes unpaid talent. Venturing out without the proper capital and marketing is the reason why most small businesses fail.
Through Alexa’s contacts, Raven’s business is already thriving with multiple dress orders in tow. Alexa’s rich friends have no problem ordering through Alexa’s new company instead of whoever they previously used. The credit goes to Raven’s talent, but that talent needed financial backing and promoted to the right clientele, by the right marketer.
Raven wouldn’t take my money but she trusts Alexa; who has both the money and the contacts. I had offered Alexa the money to pass on to Raven, but she insisted on personally investing. I wasn’t lying about Raven’s work. Alexa knew it would be stupid to pass on her.
It probably doesn’t raise my standing on the moral scale to ask a woman, who is half in love with me, to invest in Raven. But Alexa knows how to differentiate between personal and professional feelings.
There is no point in condescending Raven’s intellect by denying the allegations. “As you mentioned, Alexa has the right contacts. And doing this by yourself would have been tough,” I offer. Instead of guessing what Raven is thinking, I decide to be direct. “Are you upset this was my idea or are you upset because I asked Alexa to help you?”
Raven frowns. “I am not upset at either. You like to fix things and take care of people. That’s who you are. I trust Alexa and I like working with her. I guess I don’t understand why you kept arguing with me to take your money if this was your idea.”
I slowly rise. Now that we have both finished eating, I collect our trash and clean the table. I feel fucking irritated so I want to exert energy by keeping my body in motion.
“Because I asked you to take my money multiple times. You refused and seemed more comfortable taking someone else’s money.”
“Milo, at that time—”
