Miss High Maintenance
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S. S. Sahoo
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Tiger Princess, On The Prowl
Amelia
You never could tell how different living in different parts of the world could be.
Not until you stood in a mulberry silk dressing gown by the window of a sprawling penthouse apartment, the blue Hudson separating your city from the swill of New Jersey.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with New Jersey.
It just wasnât New York.
I sighed and wrapped my housecoat tighter around me. The chilly morning showed wisps of redolent icy-blue fog escaping into the living room through the open bay window, spanning the entire northern wall of my home.
A whimsy glass-sided recess protruded from my favorite space, and to everyone who graced the pavement downstairs, it looked like a queenâs podium. I could imagine waving down at them.
But I didnât want to risk getting an everything bagel or a venti latte thrown at my pretty face.
A smile on my face, I recalled the time I was all of nine-years-old, and Iâd donated every last cent of the pocket money Iâd collected in an entire year to a little raggedy girl outside St. Bishopâs church.
Sheâd had eyes of the purest cornflower blue. Sheâd be beautiful if poverty werenât so apparent on her face. When I came home, mom asked me where my pocket money was.
âI spent it all, mama, Iâm sorry!â Iâd pleaded. And of course, dad had heard me. Oh, heâd been furious. I had to go a month without any pocket money. When mom tried to help me out, I hugged her ferociously, saying only one thing.
Mom waited until dad was out of the room before turning stern eyes at me. I could almost hear the sound of the worldâs tiniest violin spelling doomsday in the background. But then, sheâd just known.
âYou helped someone on the roads, didnât you?â
Iâd nodded. And sheâd kissed me and said, âIâm proud of you, but maybe if you donate in part, and invest the rest, youâll have more money to help others!â
That was my first lesson in finance, and by the end, my head hurt, so much so that Iâd raised my hands and squealed like a little annoyed hen.
âWhen Iâm old enough, Iâll rob a bank and feed all the worldâs hungry. You watch me, mommy!â
I was always getting in trouble back then, but those closest to me thought it was endearing and funny. And I still intended to feed every hungry person Iâd encounter.
Ace had been dubious when I told him I wanted to move out of the family home, which he was now sharing with his to-be wife, Veronica. But Iâve always felt three volatile personalities under one roof spelled inevitable doom.
Plus, I intended to be the mistress of my own casa. There was no room for another woman to dominate where I was present.
And, in this beautiful space accentuated with soft tones of peach and lime, sea green and pepper gray, I was as nature intended me to beâa ruler in my domain.
Something stuck into my otherwise contented heart like a thorn in a chest.
I sighed at the open invitation upon the table, a heavy frown on my sharp features. It was an invite I wanted to avoid at all costs, but Veronica had categorically told me I had to attend.
Michaela Andrews was no friend of mine.
She was a spoiled bratâand, I get it, all of us areâbut she was one of those bratsâthe kind who came with zero intellect, big boobs, and ridiculously tilting hips that left little to the imagination.
She was always talking in this saccharine voice, making me want to pound my head into fine powder.
The only reason I didnât do that was, well, the world would never get a second Amelia Knight.
A lilting tone from my custom iPhone, redone in gold and a sprinkling of amethyst for good measure, drew my attention.
Smiling, I answered, relief flooding my chest. âHey, Klarisse, how is everything?â
Klarisse Renmann was my best friend from my days at Harvard.
I never imagined leaving New York, but the moment I got the opportunity to study business psychology, I knew it was time to peregrinate. New York could wait for meâand she did.
âHey, my love. All good on this side. How is the queenâs castle?â
I rolled my eyes and let out another frustrated sigh. âIt was all good until I woke up to a blasted invitation this morning. Remember Michaela Andrews?â
âThe bimbo who used to bully you in school because she thought youâd grow up androgynous?â
âI mean, I think androgyny is beautiful. But it didnât feel great when she kept pushing her huge-ass tits in my face and telling me she was better than me because of her bra size. Whatâs worse, it's her birthday today, and my family is forcing me to go.â
âWhat?â She sounded dismayed, a feeling which resonated with me. âWhy?â
âWell, Michaelaâs father is an investor in Knightâs Corp. Thatâs not the only thing, though. Ace believes in maintaining good relationships with the old money families in New York.â
âDidnât you tell me Michaelaâs dad made most of his wealth from tax evasion?â
âOh, thatâs just the tip of the iceberg for the Andrews group. But thatâs none of my concern. How is Teddy?â
A burst of soft laughter sounded from the other end of the phone. âI called to tell you Teddy has been transferred to the Bronx Zoo and is dying to meet the girl who saved his life all those years ago!â
Teddy Knight. My dearest, most beautiful, golden Amur, striped with streaks of rich wheatish brown and built into six hundred pounds of pure muscle and hunting instinct.
He was amber, almost as if God had carved him from hardened sunlight.
I had saved him from a group of poachers on a trip to the far east of Russia, in a tiny little village where Amur tigers were revered by the locals and dearly loved for the nourishment they offered to the ecosystem.
The poachers, as it happened, were already on the run from the law, so when Klarisse and I reported them to the authorities, we saved not only baby Teddy, but also his brothers and sisters.
The mother, however, could not be rescued in timeâand this was a sting I carried in my skin for as long as Iâd known and loved him.
Iâd spent two months around Teddy, learning more about his habitat and life, becoming the sum of his little world. And when weâd said goodbye to each other, I knew I was never going to get that kind of love back.
It didnât matter. Such loves were meant to happen once in a lifetime, for they were too pure and too big to be replicated again and again.
âBabe?â
âIâm here. But I got to meet him. Klarisse, can I call you later?â
âAnytime.â
After hanging up, I prepared a cup of macchiato and sifted through contacts and names to get to Bronx Zooâs management. Something was brewing in my mind.
I learned Teddy was as healthy and lively as ever, still the mischief-maker at four years old as he had been at two months.
The rest of the day was busier than Iâd hoped. But it was the good kind of busyâyou know, the one that sits like a warm shroud upon your shoulders on an otherwise cold day and makes you think, âOkay, I got this.â
A little past eight in the morning, the family limousine took me to the birthday venue.
Veronica was already present with my brother, Ace. She was gorgeous in a navy-blue dress, a string of pearls elongating her already long neck like a swan.
My brother looked like the doofus he always had been, but I had to admit age and responsibilities had made a man out of him. They made a good pair.
That was where the good part of the evening ended. Michaela had booked an entire barn and the surrounding lawns for her birthday.
Every inch of the space was done in hideously garish tangerines and bright neon pinks.
She wore a typical Chanel cocktail gownâdusty rose, exposing her ridiculously large bosom.
Satisfaction hit me with savage precision when two girls giggled beside me, each pointing to the apparent work sheâd gotten.
âThose lips look worse than the duck pout trend we had going a couple of years back.â One smirked.
âHush,â the other girl laughed and pulled her away. At around the same time, I heard the sound of a huge truck pulling down the alley, stopping right in front of the lawnâs gate.
My time to shine, bitch.
All eyes were now on me.
Michaelaâs irises looked like the hearts of poison ivy, at once jealous and dark. I paid no heed. I lived for this kind of validation.
Stepping away, careful not to crease or wrinkle the golden zari work on my slinky Schiaparelli number, I walked down the lawn to where the truck was parked.
Guests blared horns from their indulgent Porsches, sleek BMWs and the odd Fortuner, but who the hell cared?
This was New York, and you couldnât survive the city if you were paid heed to the feelings of anyone other than those closest to the heart.
âIs he here?â I asked the man standing at the back, fiddling with a huge set of keys. He nodded and opened the doors.
A resonant roar shook the entire road, traveling and echoing to the furthest corners of the Hudson. There, gleaming against the luminescent nightâs shadows, was my golden boy.
âTeddy!â I couldnât help the happy tears from falling. âMy Teddy! Open the enclosure, please!â
âAre you sure about this?â The man still looked dubious.
I fixed my gaze on him, the blue in my eyes a quiet fire of chaos.
âDo I look unsure?â
âFine, have it your way,â he muttered. He looked like one of those folks whoâd had it with the tempers of wealthy New Yorkers and their ridiculous antics.
I didnât blame him, but nothing was going to stop meâleast of all, a zookeeper who didnât know the bond I shared with the living being inside.
Another roar shook the gardens. I could feel the ground under me vibrate as the man reluctantly opened the transportation crates.
For one second, Teddyâs feline yellow eyes met the blue in mine. I saw so many things in them.
A life gone by.
A history.
Forests in twilight and pine needles with droplets of early morning dew.
The entire earth.
Then, there was only abundant love. He leaped at me. The crowd let out a collective outcry, and I heard Ace and Veronica screaming at me to get back.
Teddy and I were enclosed in the tiger version of a bear hug, his front paws over my shoulder as I laughed into his soft mane, each peal more hysteric and maniacal than the last.
In another century, theyâd have tried to take me to Salem.
Wouldnât have helped, though. Iâd still escape and paint the damn towns red.
After an age, or maybe a very long minute, I turned. Two more men helped me walk Teddy to the podium at the center of the lawn.
A low hush had fallen over the crowd. Every single pair of eyes was on me.
Michaela stood on the podium, her mouth open. I nudged the mic away and gave her a slight shove. She moved aside clumsily.
âIâm sorry about the unexpected surprise. Michaela and I talked a while back.â I winked at her as she continued to stare at me, stupefied.
âAnd we both agreed this would be a wonderful opportunity for me to teach you how valuable these big cats are to the world and why we must protect them from illegal hunting.â
The world had forgotten the existence of Michaela Andrews and her big tits.
âIndeed, without our Amurs and other tigers, the very heart of our ecosystems is bound to fail sooner rather than later.â
Every word I spoke, every caress I left on Teddyâs velvet-soft mane, and every purr he made in reciprocation were all they wanted. I didnât even mind the angry glances of disapproval from Ace and Veronica.
They knew this was more than my love for the wild. This was a vendetta. This was me telling those who needed to hear but couldnât be bothered to listen.
Once I was done, I didnât stop for feedback. Iâd see enough of it tomorrow. I walked Teddy back to the transportation crate and returned to the Bronx Zoo with him.
After our goodbyes and promises of coming back, I returned home to a long, dreamlessly sweet slumber.
I woke up to the sound of curtains being pulled aside, and Aceâs angry face glowering at me.
âAre you looking at this?â He was waving a newspaper at my face.
The headlines made me laugh out loud.
âTiger Princess, on the prowl.â
Watch out, world, sheâs here now.â
âYou know Michaela was good for your company, right?â Ace scowled. âStop laughing.â
âWho let you in, Ace?â
âThe maid,â he huffed. âAnd now is not the time for pleasantries. Do you realize the extent of whatâs happened?â
He handed me his phone. Facebook and Instagram were rife with memes, pointing to Michaela comically louring at me as I stole her thunder.
In one meme, a boy held a girlâs hand but stared at another lady walking in front of them.
The captions over the boy and the girlâs heads read âthe audienceâ and âMichaela Andrews,â while the lady was âSocialite Amelia and her baby boy.â
âIsnât this good for business too?â I asked him pointedly.
âAmelia.â He let out a tired groan. âYou have to grow up.â
I shook my head and stretched my limbs like a cat turning to the sun. âNo. I have to have a good time, Ace. And thatâs what Iâll do.â
