altercation

noun

1. a noisy argument or disagreement, especially in public

After everyone had signed off, Grant, Patricia and I ate the snacks and toasted using cups of coffee that had been served. Then a notification came.

DING!

An email arrived from one of the distribution platforms and I worried that there was something wrong with the app. Opening the email I found a 'Congratulations, your app has successfully publishing on our distribution platform.'

"Ahhhh!" I screamed.

"What? What's wrong?" Grant asked in a panic.

"Nothing! It was launched! Its live now on one of the platforms!" I called back. Then it was a scramble for both Grant and I to look it up on our phones then purchase and download the programme.

"Yes!" I called out as it finished downloading.

"Yus!" Grant followed suit. Then we both sat down and went through the whole app, registering as new users, changing settings, and basically trying to find any faults with the sleek programme.

"It looks really good." Patricia said as she watched over my shoulder.

"Yes, but does it work?"

"We need to take a photo of a painting or artwork or antique." We all looked at each other and smiled. Wallace's mansion was loaded with expensive paintings and artwork.

"I'll go to my room and use the painting on my wall. What don't you take a photo of a vase from the foyer?" I suggested.

"That broke last night, remember?" Grant replied as we moved through the lounge.

"It was replaced. I don't think Wallace would replace it with a fake. Don't forget to take a photo of the bottom as well."

We scrambled around the house taking photos of various objects and paintings then uploaded them onto the new Antiques and Arts App.

"It works! Oh my gawd! Wallace has a Picasso from 1932!" I squealed. We were in a sitting room on the second floor.

"Are you kidding me?" Grant used the same voice as I used, a little excited and a lot freaked out.

"OK, maybe using Wallace's paintings is a bad idea."

"Stuff-a-duck! It was sold eighty three million a number of years back." We all looked up at the cubism painting that hung in an upstairs lounge room. Then all took a step away from said painting and quickly moved out of the room.

"Why the heck does he have it hanging on the wall like that?"

"It has cameras and pressure plates and a few other volatile measures for keeping it safe, including a fully kitted out security team. Alsom no one knows it exists in this estate." Mr Denault stepped out from behind us, giving all three of us a fright. He stood there, hands held together before him, wearing a security guard uniform, complete with radio thingy in his ear and what looked like a stun gun on his hip.

"Ahhh..." I held up my phone and shook it. "Just trying out the new app. Sorry. I'll get my IT guy to remove it from the database." Denault's face was still looking at us sternly.

"Mr Overmeyer owns the servers so security is tight." Patricia calmly said then moved away from the room with the Picasso in it and down the stairs. We followed her down.

"Woah, I can't believe that." Grant quietly said.

"Yeah. I'll have to get Freddy to... Nope. I'll do it myself. I'll have it removed from the database now." I went back to my laptop in the entertainment room and pulled up the server database that held client information including images etc. I deleted the appropriate photos and data and signed off.

"I'm heading off now. If you need anything, I'll see you tonight at your birthday dinner." Patricia waved goodbye and I walked her to the front door, seeing her off.

I made my way back up the stairs to my bedroom with Grant who was carrying my laptop, when I heard Eyva calling out to us from behind.

"Hey you. What are you doing on the family floor?" Oh, she was calling out to Grant. We turned around to find Eyva walking out of her bedroom, still in last nights bodycon bandage dress that is practically painted on, showing the top of her bra cups over the top of her bust line. She looked a mess, like she hadn't showered yet and was just getting over a bender. You could tell she was fighting a hangover by the way she squinted.

"He's with me." We kept walking away toward my bedroom.

"He's staff. He's breaking protocol to be on this floor without permission." She crossed her arms over her chest and popped a hip out. "You taking him back for some time in the sack? Oh, that's right. He's gaaay." She giggled.

I just didn't get her, why she thinks his sexual orientation has any say on our friendship. When neither of us turned back to her provocation, she stomped down the wide hallway in bare feet.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" shouted then squinted her eyes, probably from the headache she'd just given to herself.

"He's with me. We're working on business stuff, Eyva. Please don't make any more fool of yourself than you already have." I turned back to find another swinging hand.

SLAP! Again, with the face slapping. I wanted to slap her back, but I knew I couldn't. It wasn't worth the hassle the action would cause. We weren't alone, even if Wallace and my mother were not in the house.

"Hey!" Grant went to grab her swinging arm, but I pulled him away. If he gets involved he could be removed from the premises and his parents could lose their jobs.

"I'm the one you're so angry and bitchy with. Don't take it out on the staff. It doesn't become you, Eyva." I snarked, but that was enough to get her off Grant. "Denault, I know you're listening." I yelled out. He was just on the second floor when we'd been looking at the paintings, he should be close by.

Without turning away from Eyva I speak quietly to Grant. "It isn't worth it getting into a fight with her over something so trivial. Please take your leave. I'll call you later." He didn't want to leave me. "Now, Grant." I was stern with him and he finally left, taking the staff stair case to his own family suite.

"Now Eyva. Its just you, me and the security cameras and Mr Denault who is hiding around the corner. Care to tell me what your issue is with me?" I'd had enough. After last night and the face slap now, it was time to have a real conversation with the young girl. I stood tall in front of her.

"I have never had even a single conversation with you, nor deprived you of anything, not money, not family not home. I haven't targeted your friends and accused them of theft or plagiarism, nor have I taken anything from your room. I keep to my own space and do not go around bragging about my family connections, nor have I slandered you or your family, so why? Why the HELL have you got it out for me so badly that you are making my life a living hell?"

Eyva stood there, not sure why. She looked a little shocked that I'd confronted her so strongly. I looked past her to find Mr Denault and a few maids standing near the lifts, waiting in case the show down got out of hand.

Eyva was breathing hard, her chest rising up and down like she had just run a marathon. She brushed her birds nest hair out of her face, then fisted her hands up beside her. Here is comes...

"I hate you. You've taken everything away from me." It was like she was trying to convince herself of her own lies.

"What have I taken away from you, Eyva? What? Money? Your house? I'm not even on your family registrar nor do I have your last name. I do not stand to inherit anything from your family. I'm still a Twice. What have I ever taken away from you?" When you've taken everything EVERYTHING away from me! I didn't say the last part as it hasn't happened this timeline.

"You are trailer trash, a slut!" She declared.

"I haven't even had a boyfriend and I've NEVER lived in a trailer." I called back.

"You've used my father's money!" She was getting desperate.

"I used my father's money – his life insurance. I have taken nothing from your family."

"You've taken my father's love. He loves you more than me, I hate you!"

"You are blind if you cannot see his love for you. Grow up, Eyva!"

"I hate you. You are an ugly slut, I want you to die!" She screamed then ran away and slammed her bedroom door shut."

"Frack!" I drew my hands through my hair.

"Are you OK, Miss Lily?" Mr Denault and the maids made their way towards me.

"Yes, I'm OK." Actually I was pretty shook up and shaking from the confrontation.