Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“Absolutely, Mom. Love you, bye.”
“Bye sweetie.”
Mom hangs up and I smile ruefully. Ever since hitting sixty-five, my parents have decided to take advantage of the “senior specials” that cruise lines offer. As a result, they’ve been almost continuously at sea since last year. Even though they live in my same neighborhood, I rarely see them anymore.
But it’s okay because I want them to enjoy their golden years. Both Pam and Jerome are retired, and they deserve to enjoy their lives now. As their only daughter, I’m happy for them.
But now, I need to get ready for dinner with Marcus. He said we should grab dinner to get to know one another, and I do want to get to know him better because I still can’t get the image of his naked form out of my mind. God, it’s wrong, but I can’t stop! Last night, I had to touch myself just to fall asleep. It was totally worth it.
But I force myself to look through my most severe business outfits. This is a business dinner. This is not a date, and I have to get that through my head. I need to dress appropriately.
I pull out a business suit and set it on my bed, looking distastefully at the cheap gray fabric. I bought it on-sale and it’s not tailored to fit my body. Ugh, this is going to be bad.
Slipping on the pants and jacket, I take a look at myself in the mirror, and frankly, want to cry at the image that stares back at me. The suit makes me look frumpy and square, not to mention boxy and overweight in all the wrong places. I literally look like a gray-colored SpongeBob Squarepants, if that’s even possible.
But what else do I have that’s appropriate? If I had more free time, my closet would be filled with clothes that fit me perfectly because I’m an excellent tailor. But by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is to pull out my sewing kit. As a result, my personal wardrobe has paid the price for my success in fashion design. It’s ironic, really.
At that moment, my roomie Megan swans in.
“What is that?” she asks, looking at my suit with confusion. “Have you suddenly gone corporate? That looks really weird.”
I sigh.
“I know, but I have a business dinner tonight and this is the only thing that’s appropriate. What do you think?”
Megan makes a face.
“Absolutely not, Addy. As your friend and a fellow fashion designer, I can’t let you leave the apartment wearing that.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what else to wear. I don’t have anything else to wear.”
Megan merely disappears into her own room for a moment. She’s a curvy girl like me, so I know she’s probably digging through her own collection of clothes. To be honest, it’s great being her roommate, even if we share a teeny-tiny apartment. After a long week at work, we usually spend a weekend night with wine, lamenting the trials and tribulations of our respective jobs. Megan gets it because she works for Lulu, an athleisure clothing brand, so she knows how ruthless this industry can be.
Lulu recently put out a plus sized line, but it took Megan a lot of work to convince them to do it. It’s kind of crazy to me, since Lulu’s clothes are often active wear that also work in other settings. Why not make active clothing for plus sized women? Just because they’re bigger doesn’t mean they’re not interested in working out. I love going for walks. I bought pretty much everything Megan designed for the newest Lulu line, and I wear those outfits more than anything else.
Finally, she reappears triumphantly.
“Got it!” My friend has a royal blue cocktail dress in front of her. It’s velvety and soft, and sure to hug my curves.
I stare at it. “Absolutely not.”
Megan’s eyebrow shoots up.
“Trust me, Addy. This is a good idea. You need to wear a dress because that suit is fucking awful. I don’t know what this dinner is about, but you cannot wear that. What kind of business dinner is this anyways? I didn’t know you had to do stuff like this.”
I sigh.
“It’s with my boss.”
Megan scrunches her face. “That bitch, Marissa? Does she even eat?”
I laugh and shake my head.
“Nope. But you haven’t heard the news? I thought it was all over the fashion media. Marissa is out of the picture.”
Megan’s eyes widen.
“Seriously? Holy shit. I thought she co-founded the House of Steele with her husband. But who are you having dinner with, then, if not Marissa?”
I make a face.
“Said husband. Marcus Steele has taken over as sole owner of the House of Steele. And he promoted me to head designer.”
Megan gasps.
“Holy shit, girlfriend! You have a date with Marcus Steele?”