Page 4 of Stepping Up to the Plate

August

Trudging to my car, I fully understand why TGIF is a thing. I am thanking both grown up and baby Jesus that it is Friday. I don’t think I could have taken even another hour of work this week. It’s not that I hate my job, but I hate my job. It could not be less fulfilling.

I went into journalism because I wanted to help people understand the world around them. I wanted to share stories and personal experiences that spoke to people and made their lives better. Instead, I work for the Clayton Chronicle and write about PTA meetings and who had the best yard this month. It is droll to say the least. I want to find a better job, but the market is not great right now, despite having a master’s degree from Mizzou. Honestly, I don’t even know what type of job I would want, anyway. But after this week I’d take anything to get away from the Real Housewives of the St. Louis suburbs that fill my articles’ comment sections.

On the drive home, I consider what I want for dinner. I am too tired to cook. Hopefully, I can convince Phil to order toasted ravioli from that place we love on The Hill. When I pull up to an empty driveway, I am surprised he’s not here yet. He’s been working a lot of late nights, but he usually gets home early on Fridays. I decide to call, hoping he can grab takeout.

“Hey, where are you?” I ask cheerily when he picks up.

“I’m in Baltimore.”

“What? Why are you in Baltimore?”

He responds with a sigh. “I told you I had a client meeting on Monday. That client is in Baltimore.”

“Okay… well you forgot the part about you needing to meet in person in Baltimore. Plus, it’s Friday, not Monday. Why are you there now?”

“The team wanted to get here early to make sure everything was prepared for the presentation. We have a lot riding on this meeting.”

“I wish I would have known,” I say quietly.

“I told you about this. You must have forgotten. You know how scatterbrained you can be,” he admonishes.

“I’m not… never mind. When can I expect you back?”

“I should be back late Tuesday evening. Listen, I gotta go. We’re all going out to dinner. I’ll talk to you later this weekend.”

“Okay, bye. Be saf—” I start before he hangs up. Isn’t this hunky dory? There is no way he told me he was going out of town and I forgot. I’ll add it to the list of all the other shady behavior he’s done lately.

ChapterTwo

• LOLA •

Labor Day Weekend

If I thought it was humid in St. Louis in the summer, Miami is on a whole other level. The air practically assaults me as I step out of the airport. Before I even have a second to get my bearings, a flash of blonde is running towards me. “Bunnnnnnnny,” it yells.

“Ooof. Hi, Tiff. It’s nice to see you, too,” I wheeze in her hold.

“I’m glad you made it! I haven’t seen you since Carina’s birthday last year, and that is way too long. Ready to make Miami our bitch?”

I can’t help but laugh at her excitement. I squeeze her a little tighter before letting go. I forgot how good it feels to be embraced by a friend. Hell, embraced by anyone. “Lead the way, Barbie girl.”

I may have met Tiffany through Carina when they were in college, but it didn’t take long for us to become fast friends. I was pretty quiet growing up and didn't have many friends aside from a few girls and, of course, my bestie, Georgie. I lost touch with most of them when we went our separate ways to college. At school, I met Phil during my freshman year and quickly got sucked into his friend group. They were nice, but they were always his people first. Being adopted by Tiffany showed me what a ride-or-die friend looks like.

As Tiff and I hop in the rideshare to the hotel, she tells me what she’s been up to this week with her clients and all the hot gossip. I tune her out for a minute to take in the scenery but am brought back in when she says something about an after party.

“Wait, what?” I ask.

“I knew you weren’t listening to me! I said Valentino – he’s one of the models I’ve been working with – got us on the list for this amazing club that is hosting the after party.”

“Tiffany, I don’t have anything to wear to a club with models! I only packed swimsuits and casual clothes. You said we were being low-key,” I squeal.

* * *

“Don’t you worry, my little Bunny. I’ve got you covered,” she says with a mischievous grin.

I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that grin. When Tiffany said she had me covered, she meant she had me uncovered if this outfit is anything to go by. Tugging down the skirt for the millionth time, I check myself out in the mirror.

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