Page 23 of Role Play
She ends the call after a quick, “Gotta go.” I shudder knowing she probably needs to put her head in the toilet again. Poor thing.
“How’s Mama Cho?” Daphne asks as she reemerges in my bedroom. “Did you tell her I’ve mastered the bunny chopsticks and am ready for my next lesson at Pajeon Palace?”
My stare is glued to the plate of chocolate cake in Daphne’s hand. My stomach rumbles. In her other hand is a small gift basket of assorted candies and other goodies. “Believe it or not, you don’t come up in conversation every single time I talk to my mom.”
Daphne scoffs, whipping her hair around in a diva-like fashion. “That’s just offensive. We’ve been going steady for ten years now. Kind of feels like the sun should rise and set on my ass. But you know, that’s your call.” She winks. “Since you’re up, you want to eat in the kitchen?”
“I’m kind of feeling cake in bed,” I say, nestling deeper into my mattress.
“I’ve seen you maul chocolate cake like a starving bear. It’s messy, and your comforter isverywhite.” My lips part, but before I can protest, Daphne adds, “Deny it all you want, but I have video evidence of it.”
I roll my eyes as I follow her into the kitchen. “One time in the past three years I got completely shit-faced, and I hadn’t eaten all day. Of course you were there with your phone, recording.”
She smirks over her shoulder. “It’s in the best-friend job description. I’m collecting content for your wedding video montage.”
I’m not sure what’s more hilarious, the idea of me getting married, or that Daphne thinks I’d allow a video montage at said imaginary wedding.
I sit down at my kitchen counter in front of the plate of cake. I don’t have a dining table. My apartment is just shy of six hundred square feet, which is a blessing in New York City. Thanks to a rent-controlled sublet, I can afford to sleep with a roof over my head.
“You’re not having any? I can’t eat my birthday cake alone.”
Daphne sucks in her lips as she shakes her head with firm resolve. “I have setup in half an hour. It’s a lot of manual labor and you know sugar makes me sleepy.”
“Where are you working tonight?” I swipe a small dollop of frosting with my pinky and pop my finger into my mouth. The frosting is sinfully delectable. Who needs orgasms when you have triple chocolate cake with a cookie-crumble crust?
“A wedding at The Plaza. Servers are getting paid one hundred bucks an hour. I couldn’t turn it down.”
“One hundred?” I gawk at her. “Damn. It’s a good time to get into serving.”
“This is basically the U.S. version of a royal wedding. A billionaire’s event. They had custom-made couture uniforms for the women servers. We had to verify we didn’t have any visible tattoos in a strapless dress. I went through a background check. The only thing they didn’t do is a cavity search, but who knows what’ll happen when I get there.”
“Hopefully not a cavity search.”
“Anyway,” she says, pointing to my gift basket. “I got all your favorites. Chocolate with almonds. The little Scandinaviansour candies you special order like a weirdo. And there are some gummy bears to help you relax. Okay?”
“Are you trying to help me relax by putting me into a sugar-induced coma?”
She flashes me a toothy grin. “You’re not a big drinker. I had to take liberties.”
I glance at my basket of goodies and my favorite kind of chocolate cake in front of me. “You arranged this basket and shrink-wrapped it yourself?”
She nods. “I know it’s no Chanel clutch or anything, but I’ve had to start saving?—”
I grab Daphne’s hand. “It’s better. This is so thoughtful and wonderful. Thank you for always making me feel special. Not just on my birthdays. Even on my shittiest days, I’m okay because I have you, Daph. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’m always here for you.” She says the words with a soft smile but there’s a touch of sadness wrinkling the corner of her eyes.
“What’re you saving for?” I ask, squeezing her hand before I let it drop.
“Life,” she answers rather cryptically.
“Move into the brownstone with me. That would help you save on rent, right? The house is paid off. All we’d need to come up with is utilities.”
“That’s generous, friend. Really sweet of you.” She tilts her head. “Can I think about it and let you know?”
I was expecting an automatic “hell yes.” Daphne has two other roommates that she despises. We should’ve moved in together from the get-go but I opted for this place thinking I’d need the solitude to write masterpieces. So far it’s just been a fortress of writer’s block.
While I don’t understand her hesitance, I dare not tell her it kind of hurts my feelings. “Of course you can. No pressure.” Ibite back all the questions on the tip of my tongue, sensing her reluctance to share any more.
