Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Cami

Bestie Friend

You coming?

Me

Running two seconds late

Bestie Friend

Not surprised!

Me

Sorry, shoe situation. Will explain

I’m stumbling through my door at 7:05 a.m., exactly five minutes after I’m supposed to meet Alana in the hallway to walk to work. Her and I have lived in the same apartment building, just a few doors down from one another, for a while now. It’s another level of friendship when you work and live together in the same apartment building. I can’t ever get rid of the girl, and I wouldn’t want to.

We became friends when I moved into the pastel yellow house next to their baby blue one. It was the summer before our freshman year of high school and our family had just moved to the small Florida town of Celebration. I was incredibly grateful for the girl next door who was welcoming and kind, and the way she took me under her wing and showed me the ropes of the town.

We entered high school together after hanging out over the summer, and from that moment on we were inseparable. It was always just the two of us, with little glimpses of Alana’s older brother as he passed through the kitchen or left to hang out with his friends, but all of that changed during his junior year.

I remember the day almost vividly, Alana and I were sitting on the floor in her bedroom making friendship bracelets and she shared with me that her brother had become very withdrawn and stopped hanging out with his friends. She told me her parents hardly paid attention or cared, but she was worried.

He came in that night and sat down with us on the carpet, messing around on his phone and pretending not to care about whatever we were talking about, but chiming in regardless. He never really stopped spending time with us after that night, and I was happy to have him tag along.

He never got his sparkle back, but we got to know the new, more quiet version of him and that’s who he’s been ever since.

Thankfully I thought to text Alana this morning that I was running a little late so she didn’t end up standing in the hallway knocking and waiting for me to get myself together. I tend to always be a little late, a little disorganized, a little immature as my mother would say. I think it’s charming.

“I am so sorry, Lan, I was hurrying but then I got distracted trying to pick out shoes. I ended up finding those midnight blue ones that I wore to the gala last winter, remember those?” She nods her head as we walk. “Anyways I had to try them on because I missed them and then I realized I was running behind.”

“No worries, girl. Finding a missing pair of shoes is worthy of a five minute delay.”

This is what I love about her. She doesn’t ever make me feel silly for my type B chaos. She embraces it and loves me because of it, and that’s not something I have a lot of in my life. Most people want to fix me. They think my disorganization and general flightiness is a negative trait, and it can be, but I try to make sure I show up when I commit to something.

I love our apartment building for a lot of reasons, but one of the main ones is the proximity to our office. It’s only a few blocks away, and after a few short minutes of chit chat as we walk, we’ve arrived in front of it.

The Impress Magazine building stands tall amongst the other skyscrapers on Fifth Avenue. The large glass doors swing open, courtesy of the doormen, as we approach. Our shoes click clack on the marble floors as we make our way past the receptionist and towards the elevators.

Impress is one of the top fashion magazines in the country and I’ve been working here for five years now as a beauty assistant editor. I got this job right after I graduated from New York University and was convinced I was in some sort of simulation. It wasn’t normal to land a job this huge right out of college but Heather, the editor-in-chief, said she saw something in me and took a chance on me. It’s been an incredible five years.

The elevator doors slide open when we reach the twentieth floor and we head to our cubicles. Thankfully our desks are right next to each other, so I can bother her whenever I want.

Our work spaces reflect our personalities well. While Alana keeps her office in tip top shape every day and color coordinates her sticky notes and highlighters, my space looks like a tornado flew through it. I know where everything is, though.

I get settled into my desk for the day and look over my calendar. Only the permanent things make it on to the calendar, which means Angel’s dinner dates, work meetings, and knitting club. Everything else is just floating inside my brain.

I have a meeting with Olivia, an editorial assistant, in half an hour to go over the details for a shoot happening this week. We’re preparing for the spring issue, so while the world around me is buried in a foot of snow and bundled up in coats and mittens, I’m surrounded by flowers and pastels.

I make my way down to the conference room we’re using for our meeting today and stop by the break room to grab a coffee. I pop it into the machine and push the button, watching it slowly stream down into my mug. I’m in a trance staring at the steam coming up from the brewing coffee when someone catches my attention.

“How’s it going, Cami?”

Alex, an editor at the magazine and one of Alana and I’s friends, has just slipped into the breakroom likely to grab he and Alana’s morning beverages.

“Good, just fueling up for another grueling day talking about makeup and hair.”

“Grueling, indeed. Need anything from the fridge?” He pauses, the door ajar, his sparkling water tucked into his elbow and a Diet Coke in one hand. I love this about Alex. He is constantly taking care of the people around him in all of the small ways. He’d be so good for Alana and I know he’s into her, he just needs to admit it to himself and to her. Maybe something will happen while they’re together in Paris on this business trip they’re being sent on.

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Anytime, have a great day.”

“You too.”

I follow him out, coffee in hand, and head the opposite direction towards the conference room. Olivia is already inside, jotting things down in her notebook. I pull out the chair next to her and take a seat, pulling out my materials.

“What’s the coffee today?” she asks. Coffee is yet another thing that changes daily for me. I never like to land on any one flavor or type, so I change it up and pick something different depending on my mood.

“It’s brown sugar cinnamon. I wanted something a little spicy and a little sweet.”

“Just like you,” she says with a wink.

“Exactly.”

We turn to our computers and get to work coordinating and making sure we have all of our ducks in a row. It’s a lot to manage and I’m thankful I have Olivia to help me make sure nothing slips through the cracks. If you’re coordinating a shoot and forget to schedule hair or makeup, or give the model the wrong venue or date, you’ve wasted a lot of money and a lot of time. It’s never a good look.

My phone buzzes on the table, distracting me from what Olivia is saying, but I see the name Charles on my screen and I can’t ignore it.

Charles

Thought you might be interested in this.

Attached is a link to a TikTok about different knitting stitches, which showed up on my feed earlier this morning. It makes me smile thinking he gets knitting videos on his page just because he’s started sending them to me. I know he doesn’t care at all about knitting, but knowing he watches them through to see if they might be useful to me makes me smile.

Me

I’ll be sure to show the ladies this week, thanks Charles. Having a good day?

Charles

Good enough. Practice later.

Some might be turned off by his to-the-point style of communicating, but it’s just Charlie to me. This is how he is, how he’s always been since that day in high school when he changed. I still to this day don’t know what happened, he keeps it close to the chest, but I can only imagine it was pretty rough considering the way it changed and morphed him into the closed off version of himself.

Me

Be safe. Can’t have you wiping out and breaking something

Charles

You know I wear a ton of padding. Plus I’ve been doing this my entire life.

Me

I know, just messing with you. See you later?

Charles

Yep. Have a good day Cassandra.

Me

“All set?” Olivia’s voice takes me out of my own head and reminds me I’m in the middle of a meeting.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, where were we?”

I bring my attention back to what we’re discussing. Everything for the shoot this week is in order and prepped. I’ll feel better once it’s done, but I always feel that way. There’s this weird nervous anticipation that comes along with events and shoots like this for work.

The rest of the day moves by quickly. We have a meeting with all of the editors at the magazine, one we have once a month to make sure we’re all on the same page, then Alana and I had lunch together at a local bistro. In the afternoon, I make sure I have the layout for the beauty sections of the spring issue, or at least an early mock up of them. The day passes quickly, and I’m thankful at the end of it to head home, arm in arm with one of my besties.