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“No, I want to talk. Can you bring a plus one to this gala?” I heard the smile in her voice.
“I don’t know. I will definitely ask, I don’t think I could go by myself anyway. Would you be able to go?”
She scoffed, “Uh, duh! Why else would I have asked? I would love to be there for you, it’s your first big gig!”
“Aw, thanks.” I smiled to myself, eating the last of my lasagna. I have got to stop eating these things, the sodium is starting to pack where it shouldn’t be.
“No problem. What are you doing anyway?” She asked me.
“Watching that house wives show on Netflix. You?”
“Well I just heated up this pot pie, but I think it’s going to be nasty.”
I let out a laugh.
“What time do you have work tomorrow?”
“I don’t. I have to send out a bunch of orders, which I usually do from here.”
“Well you can come over and I can cook. Long as you bring the ingredients.”
“Really? I will literally be right there.” She hung up before I could even laugh.
Yeah, Ivy couldn’t cook at all. It’s a wonder she has even made it this far. But she had me. We were roommates back in college. The only reason we didn’t live together now was because the design firm she worked for was on the other side of town, there was no good real estate there and I simply couldn’t afford to follow her. Ivy had the support of her parents, but she never saw them because they were career travelers. I didn’t know that was a thing until I met her.
I figured I should clean up a little since she was coming, even though she has seen this place messier. I finally folded the clothes crowding my couch, and it made the whole place look a little bit more organized. All five hundred square feet of it.
Her knock was easily recognizable, I skipped to the door, my sweats dragging the floor as I did.
“Oh, my goodness, what did you bring?”
She was lugging two huge brown bags.
“One bag has drinks. The other has the food.” She explained.
She set the bags down and hugged me tight. Our hugs were always awkward because she was so dang tall. She could model the clothes that she designed too. She was very pretty; her blonde hair surrounded her sharp and dramatic features; her brown eyes were the most noticeable thing about her. She had that girl next door vibe going on too.
“I missed you. You look great.” I told her. She was wearing a tight pair of dark jeans and a spaghetti strap bohemian top with a denim jacket. I supposed she always had to look ready for the runway.
“Thanks, you look comfy. Can I put something on?” she gestured to my makeshift closet.
“Go for it.” I went through the bag. I guessed she wanted me to make pasta.
I started a pot of water, then I chopped up some onions and sausages. I always added pepperoni for extra flavor. By the time I got the sauce going, the water had boiled. Ivy put on my favorite leggings and cut off tee.
“Have any ideas for the gala yet?” Ivy asked over the noise of Netflix.
“Yeah. I was thinking since it’s centered around kids it should be colorful and inviting. Something not too adult, if that makes sense. Maybe some peonies, buttercups, and begonias.”
“That already sounds so pretty.”
“Thanks. It’s just a bit nerve wracking. I mean, come tomorrow I have two days.”
I wish I had a longer notice, but things weren’t always perfect. I poured us both a glass of wine and met her on the couch while everything cooked.
“Thanks. You’ll be o
kay. And at least Sasha knows you, so she won’t treat you like any other person she hired.”
