Beyond the Frame Chapter 1

Dinner for one, again. Victoria Waina stared at the clean plate across from her. This was not the first time her boyfriend had canceled. She chewed the piece of spicy chicken she had spent hours marinating, swallowing it along with the lump in her throat. She had made dinner, thinking Ronald, her boyfriend of two years, would show up, but he had called to cancel, claiming overtime.

Victoria set her fork on her plate and reached for her large glass of red wine. Taking a healthy gulp, she pushed away the loneliness creeping up on her and decided it was for the best. She needed to finish a report tonight, and turning in early was better for her.

She worked for the Savon Hotel, Nairobi, as a senior sales manager, spending most of her time brainstorming ways to increase revenue and keep the hotel’s largest accounts satisfied. This week was especially busy: she had a meeting in the morning with a couple connected to the hotel’s biggest client.

Taylor Kamau of Kifaru Industries, a leading stationery company in the country, was marrying his fiancée this weekend. The Savon Hotel would host both the wedding reception and the after-party. Victoria was scheduled to meet Taylor and his bride-to-be at seven-thirty the next morning.

Finishing her wine, she stood and resolved to bury her thoughts in work instead of dwelling on her lackluster relationship. Taking the wine bottle with her, she left the small, intimate table set by the floor-length windows in her living room. She entered her bedroom and crawled into bed, laptop and bottle of wine in tow.

***

The next morning, Victoria woke up to chaos. Her head felt heavy from too much wine the night before. She stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom once her brain finally computed the numbers on her alarm clock.

A hurried shower later, she slipped into a knee-length black fitted dress and tugged a red blazer over it. She ran a brush through her black weave. Then she banged her knee on the corner of her bedside table while gathering her laptop, phone, and keys. Ignoring the throbbing pain, she dashed out of her bedroom toward the living room.

The dishes she had left on the table by the window called to her, but she forced herself not to clean them. It was six-ten in the morning, and she wanted to reach her office by six-forty-five. Retrieving black flats from a hallway closet where she kept her shoes, she slipped them on, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

Victoria grabbed her handbag from the couch, where she had dumped it the night before. She gave the table by the window one final glance, stepped out of her apartment, and locked the door, taking a deep breath of fresh, cool morning air.

Tall, sun-dappled trees surrounded her building, keeping the temperature cool and the air crisp. Mornings were the best, she thought, as she headed down the veranda to the stairs. She lived on the fourth floor; her older brother, Clifford, had helped her find this apartment when she landed her job at the Savon Hotel.

Before that, she had lived on her parents’ farm in Limuru, where commuting to the city took forever. She often rose at four in the morning just to make it into town by six. She was grateful Clifford had found her a place closer to the central business district.

Downstairs, Victoria hurried to her used navy-blue Jeep, which she had bought a year ago. She opened the passenger door and dropped her handbag, laptop, and phone on the seat. Circling to the driver’s side, she settled behind the wheel, checking her watch. It was six-fifteen, which should have been perfect for beating the traffic.

She turned the key in the ignition, and the engine clicked. Her smile vanished. Closing her eyes, she sat back and tried not to panic. She tried again, more slowly. Same clicking sound. She punched the steering wheel and glared at the illuminated dashboard. Her oil was fine, she had enough gas, and the battery seemed to have power, so why wouldn’t the engine start?

A string of expletives flew out of her mouth, words that would have earned her a whack from her mom’s cooking spoon. What now?

She didn’t dare look under the hood. She had no idea what she’d be searching for. Rubbing her forehead, she gathered her phone and laptop, slipped them into her handbag, took her keys out of the ignition, and locked the car. Swinging her heavy bag over her shoulder, she threw one last irritated glance at the Jeep and started toward the black gates of her apartment complex.

Ten minutes later, she found herself in a fourteen-seat city bus heading downtown.

Victoria took a deep breath of relief. Her momentary joy evaporated at the next stop, when an older man, reeking of stale alcohol, sat beside her. She tried not to gag. She had chosen the two-seat side, and her window was stuck.

Closing her eyes, she prayed for patience, hugging her handbag and counting down the stops. When the bus lurched forward, the man leaned into her, and she fought the urge to shove him away.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

She turned to see what he was doing and found him staring at her neckline. His gaze made her skin crawl.

Why today? she wondered, fighting exasperation.

She pressed closer to the window and cursed the reasons why her Jeep chose to die. She vowed to learn more about car engines. The bus swung onto Valley Road and sped downhill.

Victoria checked her watch; it was already six-thirty. Butterflies of panic churned in her stomach, but she tried to keep calm. The meeting wasn’t until seven-thirty, yet she hated not being prepared.

The man next to her shifted, then coughed. The rancid smell of stale booze saturated the tiny space between them.

Jeez, the first time I take the bus in weeks, and I get stuck with him.

“You’re so smart, madam,” he slurred, sending another wave of sour fumes her way. Victoria’s hangover rebelled with a vengeance.

“Where do you work?” he asked.

She bit her lip, refusing to answer. If she spoke, she’d likely curse him out, which would turn into a spectacle.

Thankfully, the bus approached the G.P.O. stop, and she stood.

“Excuse me,” she said, eager to escape.

He didn’t move. In fact, he leaned closer and blocked her path out of her seat. She gestured to the conductor, who urged the drunken man aside so she could squeeze past.

“Sorry, madam,” the conductor said as she reached him. “Don’t look so upset. It’s too early.”

She smiled at his unexpected apology.

“That guy is unbelievable. How can he be drunk so early?” she asked with a sigh.

“There are people like that,” he replied as the bus came to a stop.

He hopped onto the asphalt and waited for her to step off. She wished him a good day as he swung back inside, and she set out on the sidewalk.

Adjusting her red blazer and handbag, she began the short walk to the Savon Hotel on Loita Street.

From her vantage point, she sometimes got sentimental seeing Uhuru Highway and the national park beyond it, recalling days when she would sprint through that park in primary school or stroll to the bus stop with friends. She missed those simpler times.

Moments later, she walked through the Savon Hotel’s elegant glass doors with a deep sigh of relief. The concierge at the front desk, Anita, waved; Victoria waved back and headed to a hallway leading behind the main lobby.

She made a mental note to touch base with Anita later. New hires in the front office were often the first to greet important guests, so staying on good terms with concierges benefited her role in sales.

Her office was in the hotel’s business section, near the back of the building. Though not a corner suite, it was large enough to feel like her second home over the past year. She unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and stepped inside.

Dropping her handbag on a couch by the wall, she hurried to the small closet in the corner. Off went her black flats, which she stowed away, and out came her black stilettos. Then she went to the windows behind her desk, opened the blinds, and placed the heels by her chair.

A knock sounded on her door; she looked up to find her best friend and the hotel’s wedding sales manager standing there.

Grace Musata waved and entered. “Glad to see you. I panicked when I didn’t see your car in the parking lot.”

“It wouldn’t start,” Victoria said with a sigh, retrieving a hairbrush from her handbag. “I’ll have Cliff check it out. I had to take the bus.”

“You’re lucky you live in Hurlingham,” Grace said, checking her phone. “Otherwise, you’d be stuck in traffic. We have thirty minutes before the Kamaus arrive. I met with Chef Nick yesterday after the disastrous food tasting with Beth, Taylor’s fiancée. Nick says he won’t do the job if Beth’s family keeps meddling.”

“He has to,” Victoria insisted. “He’s our best chef. If he cooks their menu the way they want, there shouldn’t be a problem. Why won’t he?”

“He said if they want him in charge, they need to stay out of his kitchen,” Grace explained. “Why don’t we ask Chef Alan from the second-floor restaurant?”

“Alan is great with smaller gatherings,” Victoria replied. “I don’t want this wedding party hiring an outside caterer. Talk to the bride and see what’s really bothering her.”

Victoria tucked her brush away and slipped on her heels. Worried she might still smell of stale beer from the bus ride, she rummaged for her perfume, spritzed it in the air, and walked through the fragrant mist. The crisp mint scent gave her a badly needed mood boost.

“We need coffee before this meeting,” Grace declared. “You look amazing. I’m jealous of your dress.”

Victoria grabbed her phone and followed Grace out of the office. “I chose it blindly this morning. Ronald never showed up last night, so I ended up drinking half a bottle of wine by myself.”

Grace shot her a knowing look, and Victoria groaned.

“Fine, the whole bottle,” she confessed. “I was lonely.”

“What happened?” Grace asked. “Did he call at least?”

“He said he was here, dealing with a night-shift crisis. I guess I can’t complain since I’m the same way about my job. I know how consuming hotel work can be.”

“Are you sure he was really here?” Grace asked, frowning.

“I’m sure,” Victoria said as they entered the bustling kitchen. Together they navigated around the room-service station and slipped into the staff lounge in the corner.

The rich scent of coffee washed over Victoria, making her mouth water. Her stomach growled, and Grace gave her a teasing grin.

“I skipped dinner,” Victoria explained with a laugh, “and breakfast, too. It’s been quite a morning.”

She made herself a mug of coffee, relishing the comforting aroma. “My Jeep’s engine just clicked. I ended up on the bus, and this drunk old guy plopped down next to me. He smelled so bad I thought I’d puke.”

“Oh, honey, that’s nothing. Last week, I took a matatu to Uthiru and got stuck next to a screaming child. I’d have traded for Drunk Guy in a heartbeat,” Grace said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “At least stale beer doesn’t make your ears ring.”

Victoria chuckled and took a long, soothing sip of coffee. After a few blissful gulps, she eyed the small staff buffet. The savory smell of bacon and eggs was irresistible.

Grace grabbed a bowl of fruit salad and hovered uncertainly over a tray of pastries. Victoria stepped around her to scoop scrambled eggs.

“About Ronald,” Grace began again.

“I know you don’t like him,” Victoria said, taking a plate and adding two sausages and toasted bread.

“It’s not his Jekyll-and-Hyde routine as a manager that bothers me,” Grace said, “but if you’re happy, that’s what counts. It just feels like he’s.”

Victoria grabbed her plate and coffee, then moved to a table by the windows. She adored any chance for a view of the outdoors, even a small patch of grass beyond the hotel, with the buzz of the city in the background.

Grace followed, settling across from her. Victoria eyed Grace’s meager slice of toast, single cup of coffee, and tiny fruit bowl.

“Seriously?” Victoria asked.

Grace let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m trying to lose a little weight. My husband mentioned my tummy last week, and I’ve been slacking on workouts lately.”

“Lose what weight?” Victoria scoffed.

Grace was tall, dark-skinned, and model-perfect. She looked beautiful in her navy-blue long-sleeved dress, with her sleek black hair in a ponytail.

“Does he want you to flatten into a stick?”

Grace laughed. “You’d be surprised. People are working out like crazy to drop extra pounds.”

“Not me,” Victoria quipped. “I live for food. My curves do just fine.”

“That’s because yours go straight to your hips,” Grace teased. “I actually get a belly.”

Victoria shook her head. “Your stomach is completely flat. He’s being ridiculous.”

“Marriage can be tricky,” Grace said, taking a bite of fruit. “But I’ll go on a two-month diet and hit the gym. He’ll hush up soon enough.”

“Do it only if it makes you happy,” Victoria said, sipping her coffee.

Grace launched into a story about a trip her husband was planning. Victoria listened, but her mind drifted to Ronald. She vividly recalled how he had canceled on her the night before. The thought stung.

Ronald Mutoko was her boyfriend of two years. Their relationship had begun with fiery intensity but fizzled into routine. These days, they went out only when it was mandatory, a formal function, or some event requiring a date. It was disheartening.

Yet she couldn’t deny how much time her job demanded. She hardly had space in her life for other suitors. If she ended things with Ronald, would she ever meet someone new? Did she really want her life bound to a tepid relationship?

“Vicky,” Grace broke in, her tone lowered. “I was here last night. I had a drink with Chef Nick after that fiasco with the Kamau wedding tasting. We were sitting in the front lounge around six o’clock when Ronald left. I assumed he was going to see you.”

“What?” Victoria stared.

“He wasn’t working the night shift,” Grace said firmly. “Nick and I stayed until nine, and Ronald never came back. No crisis in the night shift, either. Ask the front office team.”

Victoria studied Grace, her heart pounding. “What are you trying to say?”

Grace pushed her fruit bowl away. “You know I have your back. Nick shared that rumors are going around that Ronald’s been seen at Seasons Hotel with some of the girls from our front office.”

Victoria felt a painful twist in her chest. “Which girls?”

“Anita,” Grace murmured. “And Beatrice, before her.”

Victoria’s appetite vanished. She had cooked dinner for him last night while he was out with Anita. Did everyone at work know he was cheating on her?

“Why didn’t Nick tell me directly?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“Nick figured you’d discover it in your own time,” Grace said gently. “Maybe he told me because he knew I’d tell you. Everyone knows I don’t like Ronald.”

Victoria stared into her coffee, remembering every time Ronald had canceled plans. How hadn’t she noticed the signs?

She stood abruptly. “We’d better go.”

“Vicky,” Grace said softly, touching her arm. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have waited—”

“No. You did the right thing,” Victoria managed. “Thank you. Let’s go; we have a meeting in ten minutes.”

Grace got up, concern etched on her face. They left their dishes on the table, and she slipped an arm around Victoria’s waist to offer comfort.

“Ronald isn’t worth it,” Grace murmured as they left the lounge. “Don’t let him hurt you again.”

“I know,” Victoria replied, her heart stinging, though she tried to focus on the upcoming meeting.

Grace rambled about how being single could sometimes be a blessing, trying to soothe her, but Victoria’s mind kept returning to the last two years.

She had trusted Ronald completely. How many times had he betrayed her? Had he ever cared about her? How long had this been going on?

Suddenly, she stopped in the hallway. A knot of panic tightened in her gut. She needed to see a doctor right away. She and Ronald hadn’t always been careful recently. She felt sick with fear, recalling how easily romance in Nairobi could turn dangerous.

“Vicky?” Grace asked, alarmed.

Victoria pressed a hand to her chest, struggling for words. “Give me a second. I need the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

Grace nodded, still worried.

Without another word, Victoria rushed toward the nearest public restroom, terror pulsing through her. If she had been foolish enough to trust a cheating man, how badly might she have jeopardized her health?

She was so distracted that she ran right into someone, stumbling to the floor with a soft cry. Tears she hadn’t realized she was holding streamed down her cheeks. When had she become so blinded by a hopeless relationship?

She felt utterly foolish, utterly broken.