Page 16 of Is This for Real?
QueryMidnight Masquerade/Revise per feedback
Write second book,Fake Dating Folly
Post to dollhouse blog
Build writer website and blog
Build Etsy store business
Nothing on that list is crossed out. My back tenses. So much still to do and only four more months of full-time attention. Then it’s back to writing in fleeting snippets of time, dreams delayed.
Zelda’s footsteps reverberate in the living room.
“You won’t believe what happened today,” Zelda says. Benson follows her into my bedroom. He lies on the floor at my feet and rolls over. I give him a tummy rub.
I don’t know how she manages to still look so crisp after working a full day at the law office. She’s brightened up her white blouse and navy slacks with this jade necklace that glows against her brown skin. She fluffs out her shoulder-length, curly, black hair.
“What happened?” I swivel my chair to face her.
Zelda smiles and pushes her bangs out of her eyes. “The junior associates nominated me for the firm’s Values Award.” Zelda unfolds a typewritten letter on fancy paper and hands it to me. She pushes some clothes aside on the bed and sits down. Clothes are strewn all over because I was figuring out what to wear for my dinner date with Rory. Benson shifts to his feet and promptly puts his snout on her knee. She pets him.
“That’s amazing.” I read the letter. “Aww. They called you inspiring, a team leader, caring, legally brilliant. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m so grateful to the associate who nominated me. To go through all the effort of putting together that application to help me.” Zelda’s eyes tear.
I give her a big hug. “Because you’re worth it.”
Zelda smiles. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed already for your date?”
“I am dressed.”
Zelda grabs a pillow off my bed and throws it at me. I duck.
“You’resonot wearing that,” she says, hands on her hips.
“My hat is at Rory’s. I’m adding that.” Otherwise, my outfit is my usual going-out ensemble of jeans, black top, and black boots, but I added this cool, blue necklace I inherited from my mom, copying Zelda’s style from this morning.
“That’s your hot date outfit? You’re wearing combat boots.” Zelda talks to Benson in a baby voice. “Do you think Aunty Penelope should be wearing that?”
“They don’t suggest the possibility of hand-to-hand combat?” I smile.
“No, they say ‘stay the frick away.’”
I untie the laces of my boots. “I thought the jeans gave the message of ‘casual, but still sexy.’ As opposed to my usual yoga pants. Wearing jeans is a compliment.”
“Welcome to the real world.” Zelda shakes her head like she despairs of me. Zelda and I were freshman roommates in college, which was odd because we’re both from New York, although different boroughs. We immediately decided to room together because, hello, New Yorkers. But we became best friends with our roommates from Alabama and Colorado as well. I often give thanks to the anonymous admissions person who put us all together. Zelda and I moved back to New York after college. We were going to rent an apartment in Brooklyn, with its cheaper rent and more diverse neighborhoods, but then Zelda’s aunt offered Zelda this apartment when she moved out of the city.
“I tried on my little, black dress, but I worried I looked like I was dressing up. And it’s still a fake date, after all,” I say.
“But you want it to be a real date.”
“I don’t want it to be a real date,” I say.
“Oh please.”
“It’s not going to work.”
“Okay, so humor me,” she says. “You’re attracted to him, right?”
