It took me longer than usual to get ready. I blamed it on the bags under my eyes and the truckload of make-up I had to painstakingly apply. I walked out into the kitchen to find all of the guys were already up, dressed, and eating their breakfast. They looked so alert sitting around our dining room table, and I hated them for it.
"You look like shit," Rob mumbled as I kick started the Keurig.
"Good morning to you too," I quipped.
The Keurig sputtered and I anxiously tapped my foot. To say I was kicking myself in the ass was an understatement. I knew I should have just stayed home and practiced my presentation. I would have been feeling a whole lot better, not to mention how much better prepared I would have been.
"How come no one else is hungover?" I frowned while grabbing my cup of coffee.
"Because unlike you," Tyler started, "we know how to control ourselves."
"Well," I sighed, "I'm going to blame all three of you if I don't get this promotion."
Shane picked his head up from the paper. It seemed as though he was finally aware of our conversation and threw the paper down.
"We didn't force those lemon drops down your throat there Killah," he said, quickly standing up. He grabbed an apple from the counter and took a bite "You don't get the promotion you'll have nobody to blame but yourself."
I hated to admit it, but he was right. I always had been notorious for making bad decisions. My father had tried to make me feel better by saying I just really liked to live in the now, but ultimately I knew I sucked at decision making; always had, and probably always would.
Shane and Rob grabbed their briefcases and murmured their 'good luck's' while I sat down. They were leaving earlier than usual since they both had busy days in court to look forward to. I supposed it could be worse. I could be them and have to struggle through the day listening to people argue, bitch, and point fingers.
Tyler and I chatted casually until I had to leave. He'd been having a hard time recovering from his breakup, and at this point I had become the only one he felt like he could still talk to about it. While Shane was normally the 'go to' in these types of situations, he had recently flipped out on Tyler about it. He had told him 'enough was enough', it had been three torturous months and he couldn't listen to him whine any more. So every time Tyler and I were alone, he jumped at the chance to wallow in self-pity. I felt bad for him-really I did-but it was beginning to wear me down too.
"Sorry, Ty," I said, grabbing my presentation portfolio. "I gotta go. You know how long it takes to get to SoHo."
I shoved my heels into my Coach bag and slipped on my favorite running sneakers.
"Ah, no worries Em," he smiled, placing his bowl in the sink. "Thanks for listening to me, again."
I should have said something along the lines of, 'sure, anytime', but at this point I was just sick of hearing about it. Cheyenne was a bitch and if you ask me he should consider himself lucky that he got out before it was too late. Not wanting to make false promises or lie, I just smiled and walked out the door.
Normally I like to take the stairs down the six flights of our apartment building. It helped me start my day off on the right foot. Years ago Shane had convinced me that taking the stairs in buildings was always more exciting. He yammered on about how you never see a really cool fight sequence in an elevator, and that awesome things only happen in a stairwell. He was right and it became a daily habit for me ever since. However for obvious reasons, on this day I chose the elevator.
Once outside, the crisp fall air hit my face and I immediately felt better. In that moment I was positive that I could pull out of my hangover in time to give a kickass presentation. I just hoped that the walk to the fifty-ninth Street Subway Station would give me a little more pep.
Hurrying down the concrete steps to the platform, I dipped my Metro Card and eased through the turnstile. The station was overly crowded, filled with the familiar sound of metal scrapping metal as the six screeched to a halt. I pushed my way through the tourists in order to board. You can imagine my disappointment when I realized that the train was just as crammed as the platform. It looked like I would ride to work standing up today.
I rode in solitude-my motion sickness doing nothing to help my already hungover stomach-for precisely thirteen minutes; including nine stops trying to maintain my balance, until I finally reached Bleecker St. The fresh air was a savior again, and I reveled in my last few minutes alone while walking the streets of SoHo.
Now, I was never one for architecture and boring things like that but you don't have to be an enthusiast to appreciate SoHo. It's a historic district, peppered with gorgeous brownstones and cast iron buildings; the abandoned factories and warehouses turned into trendy lofts and office spaces. But my favorite thing about SoHo, and the reason why I always carried my stilettos and wore sneakers, is the fabulous cobblestone streets. There's something about those old cracked stones that make me feel like I'm someplace else; another time perhaps. They had been painstakingly laid during a simpler time and there was just something romantic about them. Either way, I always feel that I'm far away from New York and the stresses of life when I walk those streets.
I checked my phone and decided I had enough time to stop at Starbucks to refill my coffee cup. I knew it was going to be a long and stressful morning, and I would need plenty of caffeine to keep me energized.
I popped into the café that was conveniently located right next to my office. A certified caffeine addict, I was a regular customer and I loved that I could walk in and get my order without ever having to speak.
I smiled and approached the counter, thankful to see Jenny was working. She knows how I hate to interact early in the morning.
"Morning Emma," she said cheerfully. "The usual?"
I nodded in response, quickly handing over my cash.
Minutes later, I was walking out of Starbucks and turning the corner into my office building. I thanked myself for the coffee stop, as my overly obnoxious secretary instantly flanked me, Ginger.
Don't get me wrong, I loved Ginger. Truly I did. She was the only female I had ever hung out with since I graduated college. But she was a morning person and even on my best days I couldn't stand it. I needed to be left alone until at least ten before it was safe to approach me.
"Where the hell have you been?" she asks, snatching my portfolio from my hands.
"I'm not late," I assured her.
"No," she moaned while we walked down the crisp clean hallways of the office. "But the reps from Under Armour are already here, and Craig and Jimmy have been breathing fire down my neck all morning looking for you."
Shit. Of course, today of all days would be the one time that the clients decided to show up early instead of running the usual thirty minutes behind schedule. Ginger followed me into my office. I slid behind my desk and kicked off my sneakers, quickly grabbing my stilettos and shoving my feet into them. I propped my elbows on to the desk, throwing my forehead into my hands.
Now I have never been one to normally freak out; actually I usually had an abundance of confidence when it came to all aspects of my life. Tyler always said that one day my cockiness would catch up with me-whatever that meant-but today, for obvious reasons, I was not feeling up to par.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ginger had obviously realized that I was feeling a little bit out of character, slammed the door to my office shut.
"The frigging guys took me out last night," I mumbled.
Ginger gasped. "A little premature for a celebration don't you think?"
"Ah, you know how they can be," I offered as I stood.
Considering she was the only girl I had ever hung out with in my ten years of NYC living, Ginger sure did know 'how they could be'. Having had one night stands with both Shane and Tyler, she had first hand experience.
Clearly sensing my double entendre, Ginger blushed.
"Well, at least you look great!" she offered.
My overconfidence took hold of me again, because I kn
ew she was right. I looked downright sexily professional, wearing a high-waist, gray pencil skirt and simplistic white, French-cuffed button down. Paired with my classic black pumps and pearls, I looked the part and I was prepared to ace this presentation no matter how shitty I felt.
I grabbed my presentation and laptop and headed into the conference room. It may seem weird, but I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the UA reps were all male. Women tend to complicate things, and I knew my pitch would go over bigger with men. Besides I could shamelessly flirt my way through anything. I knew I would be in my element and I was going to own it.
And own it I did.
It took all of fifteen minutes to convince Under Armour that they needed my campaign and-of course-my exclusive representation
I watched intently as they signed a year long contract. I could hardly contain my excitement while we shook hands. I promised to be in touch with them soon as we exchanged pleasantries and escorted them out of the building. Once they had left, Craig and Jimmy asked me to step back into the conference room.
"Pretty impressive work Emma," Jimmy offered.
Craig nodded in agreement. He was the strong silent type, hardly ever speaking. In fact I don't think I even know what his voice sounds like. People claimed it was because he was the brain of the company, while Jimmy was the pretty face.
"We haven't had time to contact HR," he continued, "but we hope you have applied for the Executive Creative Director position that Martin left."
My heart thumped in my chest. I hoped that this was the moment I had been waiting for. "I put my application in the day he left."
Jimmy and Craig shared a look.
"We were hoping you'd say that," Jimmy began.
"We would like to offer the position to you," Craig added.
Even though I was sitting, I nearly fell over. I was not sure if it was due to the shock that Craig had actually spoken or if it was the realization that my dream job was finally mine.
I struggled to find the right words to use in the situation.
"I'm honored," was all that I could muster. "I won't let you down."
I smiled and exited the glass room, finding my way back to my office. Ginger followed me in.
"So?" she questioned, closing the door to my office behind her.
"Looks like you and I are moving upstairs!" I screamed.
We both took a minute to soak in our victory, with a little bit of girlish screaming mixed in. I quickly told Ginger about the eagerness of the reps and what a short sell I really needed. She assured me that she was sure that had to be some sort of record. She had been with the Agency for a long time, and she had never heard of anybody pulling something like that off; not even my bosses!
I was sitting on the futon when the door burst open. I glanced over to see Emma stumble in, her arms full with two cases of Blue Moon and work things.
"A little help please. . ?!"
I immediately hopped up from the futon and grabbed the two cases of beer from her hands. "I see you've made a full recovery."
Stepping inside she dropped her portfolio and purse onto the ground. She paused for a moment and glared at me. I laughed to myself knowing that I was ticking her off.
"Aren't you going to ask me how today went?" she questioned.
"Today… today?" I toyed with her, "what was going on today?"
She huffed and I couldn't stifle my laughter any longer. She playfully slapped my chest as she stalked past me into the kitchen. "You're such an asshole."
"So tell me about today." I demanded as I placed the beer cases into the fridge while grabbing two for ourselves. "These could signify two outcomes. We're either celebrating or drowning our sorrows."
Emma grabbed a bottle from my hand and smiled as she flicked off the cap. "Oh, these are celebratory for sure."
I took a sip from my beer. "Tell me more."
"Well not only did I nail my presentation but they offered me the promotion as well!"
Immediately I flung my arms around her, picking her up off the floor. I was so happy for her. She had worked hard for so long and it was finally paying off. "That's amazing Em!" I put her feet back onto the ground and dropped my arms. "So how do you suggest we celebrate?"
She gave me a devilish look and I knew exactly what she was thinking.
I groaned. "Awwww man, no Em. I don't want to do that!
Immediately she dropped her head and gave me one of those stupid looks. Her lips formed into a pout with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Even though I knew it was one of her tricks-and I hated it-I just wanted her to be happy.
"Fine! Alright! Just stop making that stupid face!"
"Dance Party Friday is baaaaack!" she yelled as she went into the living room and immediately began moving furniture out of the way.
I watched her from the doorway in the kitchen. Rob appeared, curiously watching her busily rearrange the living room.
"Oh shit," he said stalking down the stairs, "looks like Dance Party Friday is back. Obviously you nailed it today, huh Em?"
I watched them slap a high five as Rob stalked by, heading towards the kitchen. I heard the clinking of glass behind me and I already knew what he was up to. My assumptions were affirmed as he brushed past me with three glasses, each filled with a double Jägerbomb. Emma squealed with delight as she turned the music on. Sometimes I felt that they were more alike than either of them admitted; this being one of those times.
"Shane, come do a shot with us!" She commanded.
I laughed as I joined them in the center of the room. Rob pushed the shot glass into my hand.
"To Emma!" Rob and I said as we clinked the shots together.
"To me!" She shouted throwing the drink back with one swift movement. I already knew what kind of night it was going to be.
We had been at it for few hours when Tyler arrived home from work. He looked like it had been a rough broadcast for him and I could tell he was about as excited about Dance Party Friday as I had been.
"Come dance with us!" Emma shrieked. "We're celebrating my promotion!"
Tyler shook his head. I could tell that he was considering turning around and going back to the station.
"Don't be such an old man!" She yelled over the music, while continuing to shake her hips to the beat.
"Yeah," Rob slurred as he passed Tyler a beer, "don't be a fuck stick."
"There he is," Emma cried as Tyler started to loosen and bob his head. "Oh my god – let's do the dance!" Emma jumped up and down clapping her hands together excitedly.
Tyler and I groaned as we remembered the dance. It was not one of our proudest moments, but at the time we had thought it would be a brilliant way to send us out of high school. We had choreographed and practiced it for weeks, perfecting our moves until finally unveiling it at our senior Prom. At the time it was awesome, but now at the age of 30, it just seemed ridiculous.
"Oh, come on you guys," she pleaded while grabbing our hands to form us into a line, "it's just us and Rob. Besides, 'Jump on It' is playing!"
"Yeah, I want to see this," Rob chimed taking a seat on the floor.
We all turned our backs to Rob. Emma smiled giddily, and started the count. 1…2….3. I hated that I had somehow been talked into it yet again but there we were, throwing our bodies around, perfectly synchronized just as we had all those years ago. By the time we finished we were all laughing hysterically.
"We've still got it," I huffed, "but damn I'm out of shape." I walked over to the stereo and turned it off.
We all plopped onto the floor and silently sipped our beers.
Rob broke the silence. "Who's making dinner?"
We all looked to Emma jokingly. We frequently liked to tease her about her lack of womanly abilities. She could keep up with us on the soccer field, but when it came to the kitchen she was at a loss.
"I think you mean who is buying dinner," she rose from the floor grabbing the menus from the basket on top of the fridge. She tossed them into my lap.
<
br /> "Your pick," she said. "I'm going to take a shower."
I know that as a thirty-year-old man I should have probably wanted to settle down. I shouldn't be satisfied with living like a college kid. I should have been craving a change in life. Yet, I was happy. And in my honest opinion I believed that we had it all right there in our condo. How could life get any better?
Packing for a trip has got to be one of the hardest things to do. I always chose the wrong clothes. If I packed shorts and tank tops, it ended up raining. If I went with sweatshirts and pants, I could be sure that it would be sweltering hot out.
I especially hated packing for trips back home to Maine. This was for various reasons, but most importantly my wardrobe did not include hip waders, flannel shirts, or any blaze orange. Because of this, whenever I arrive in town and walk around in Calvin Klein, Juicy Couture or Jimmy Choo, I don't really blend in. I guess you could call it the 'small town girl living in the city' curse.
Not only was packing for Maine hard, it was also the last thing I wanted to be doing; especially now that things at work were just starting to get busy with my new Under Armour gig. I hated the thought of having to take time out of the office, but as I had put my request in long before my promotion, Craig and Jimmy insisted that I still take it. Besides, I didn't think my family would appreciate me ditching a huge event like my parent's wedding anniversary, and I really didn't need to give them any more ammunition.
I grew up in a very small town in Maine. It was the type of place where everyone knows your name, family tree and, most importantly, all your business. Growing up I was a total tomboy, in fact I hated girls. I thought they were too prissy and stupid. So growing up my best friends were boys; namely Tyler and Shane. We would climb trees, go fishing and play soccer.
Soccer was our passion, our outlet; our everything. We played everyday, and to us it was simple stress relief. If one of us were ever upset, the other two would take them to play soccer. So naturally by the time we all got to high school we were pretty good. We were courted by colleges across the county, but it had always been important to us to choose a school that we could attend together.
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