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DON’T DO ROOTS

STELLA

If you had asked me six months ago if I needed a Weird Things to Spot in Downtown Indy bingo card, I would have laughed in your face.

Today? I’m honestly thinking about going home and making one.

It’s not every day that you see a horse-drawn carriage next to a parked Lamborghini.

Old-school and new-school flexing in the same street.

I shake my head as I pass the scene. I didn’t think the carriage rides ran this early in the day, or even this far from Monument Circle, but I won’t hurt my brain trying to figure out why there’s a horse on Mass Ave at two in the afternoon.

As far as Indianapolis goes, it’s a pretty tame city.

I’ve been all over the world, and I’ve shot some amazing scenes in bigger cities—like NYC, London, and even Barcelona.

You don’t really expect much excitement from a farm state in the middle of the country. But I stand corrected.

Indy, it seems, is just the right mix of excitement and low-key that I needed after nearly a decade of traveling around the world, chasing the next amazing assignment a photo journalist. Not that Indy is the place for me, of course.

I’m not ready to settle down. Indy is just a pit stop.

A place for me to help my sister, Harper, get to a place she can rock the single-mom-hood on her own.

A time for me to reconnect with my best friends, Layla and Cassie.

And if I’m being completely honest, a place for me to rest. The last thing I want to do is burn myself out on my one passion in life—capturing the most wonderful scenes around the world.

But I don’t do roots.

I stay on the move. Always.

This is why it’s crazy to think I’ve been here for nearly six months and I haven’t crawled out of my skin from being in one place.

I just recently felt the itch to get back behind my lens.

Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t have my Nikon in my hands, but I need an assignment.

Globe trotter Stella gets twitchy when she goes more than a week without a new assignment.

Aunty Stella, on the other hand, the one who has perfected the bedtime story and packing a lunch for a kindergartner, hasn’t felt the twitch.

Until now.

I’ve taken on a couple simple jobs for some local organizations, only because Ruth, my bestie’s grandma, asked.

And when that woman asks you to jump, you ask how high?

But thanks to my extremely well-paying work with several big publications over the years—and never having a mortgage payment or even a car payment—I’ve padded my saving’s account enough to allow myself a six-to-nine month reset.

Harper and Lilly have been living with me for nearly five months now, and while things are going well, I’m not ready to leave Harper to single parent on her own yet.

Honestly, I’m a little overly cautious when it comes to her since she had been struggling for more than a year before she finally told me she needed help.

I suppose I can’t blame her for being prideful and not wanting to ask her big sister for help. Harper’s excuse for not asking was bullshit for sure, if not just slightly true.

“Stella, you don’t stay in one place more than a month at a time. You’re so busy and in such high demand; you have your next three assignments lined up. I wasn’t about to ask you to come help me get my life together while making you press pause on yours.”

Pifft.

She and Lilly would be my number one priority if I knew they needed me. But at the same time, I felt dizzy from the thought of taking enough time off that I’d have to put in a request for my mail to be forwarded to a new address. Having all my mail sent to my mother’s house was no longer necessary.

I mentally shake myself out of getting stuck on thinking about my mom. I need to give her a call soon, but damn…I’m not looking forward to that.

An older gentlemen pushes open the big glass door to the building and holds it for me; I smile and thank him. I wonder if he was here for a cuppa joe or a match made upstairs. I guess I’ll never know.

Sweet Wave, the cafe to the left, is buzzing with folks getting their midafternoon caffeine fixes.

I’m going to have to grab something myself when I’m done meeting with Layla and Cassie.

I’m going to need it after hearing them sing the praises of wedding photography and how amazing it would be if I started snapping the occasion.

Nope. Not happening.

I make my way up to the second floor, stepping out of the elevator to a waiting Cassie. My best friend is literally sunshine in every way. Her gorgeous blonde waves shine in the sun that’s pouring through the windows, and her smile is a big as they come.

I can’t help smile back; she’s always had the ability to make me smile, even on my grumpiest days.

“Stells, you look gorge today!” she gushes as she moves to join me in the elevator, causing me to step back in.

“Ditto, Cassie.” I grin. Our fashion taste is very different. I’m jeans and fitted tee’s, and Cassie, ever the casual girly, is more boho chic—and it fits her so perfectly.

“Are those the new platform Converse I’ve been hearing about?” She looks down at my purple Converse as she swipes her key fob over the button panel. The light flashes green as she presses the button for the third floor.

“Sure! Are you gonna want to borrow them?” I chuckle. We may have different styles, but we both love a good pair of shoes.

“Is the sky blue? I’m trying to come up with an event to wear them to as we speak.” She chews on her lip in thought. That’s Cassie for you. She’ll plan an event so she has a reason to wear a single pair of shoes.

The elevator dings, announcing our arrival as the door slides open.

Stepping foot into the offices of the HEA building always elicits a sigh of coming home.

It’s a thousand percent my best friends, and it feels like being wrapped in a hug.

Soft, romantic hues decorate the open-concept floorplan.

Plants and floor-to-ceiling windows allow for the perfect amount of light to stream in.

While the business mostly employs women, a few men scatter about.

Owned and (mostly) operated by women, HEA Inc doesn’t discriminate against who they hire, but there aren’t a lot of men interested in working in matchmaking and wedding planning.

“Layla just got out of a client meeting, so let’s go to her office,” Cassie says to me as I follow her through the maze of semi-private desk spaces.

“Why do I have to make appointments to see you two these days?” I ask her. I’m mostly joking, but it’s become a thing.

Cassie side-eyes me. “You don’t. What are you talking about, boo?”

I snort. “Yes, if want to get both of you in the same place for more than five minutes, I have to make an appointment.”

“Lies.” Her nose scrunches as we near Layla’s office, and I just shake my head.

“Shoes off, ladies,” Layla announces as we step into her space.

Cassie makes a squeak and starts to kick off her heals.

“Excuse me?” I stop in my tracks and stare at my other best friend, who’s sitting cross-legged on her office couch. My eyes dart to the floor where her flats have been kicked off.

“It’s a new rule,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Since when?” My brow arches as I try to asses if this is a joke.

“Since Cole walked through something utterly disgusting on his way over here yesterday, somehow managed to come in the building, up the back stairs, and not have it come off until he walked in here. It got all over my favorite hand-knotted rug. I had to send it out for cleaning.

“It smelled horrible,” Cassie adds.

“The rug?” I question as I lean down and untie my shoes. Normally, I’m a kick ’em off girl, but new shoes get the new shoe treatment for the first few wears.

“Cole’s shoes.” Cassie shivers at the thought.

“If I didn’t love that man, I’d ban him from visiting me at the office,” Layla says as she places her iPad down on the coffee table in front of her.

“Oh, please. It’s got nothing to do with love. It’s the office orgasms. You’d never ban him.” Cassie shakes her head as she plops down onto the yellow vintage wingback chair, sliding one leg underneath her.

Layla gasps and I let out a laugh.

“Excuse me, that’s… that’s private.”

“Sure. We should look in to sound proofing the offices then.” Cassie winks. Obviously not at all upset about hearing Cole and Layla getting it on during the day.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

” Layla shakes her head, fighting a grin.

If Cassie is little miss sunshine, then Layla is boss babe baddie.

She’s all about being professional, but since getting together with fun-loving Cole, she’s loosened up a bit.

Maybe more than a bit. She’s loosed up enough to have office sex—and when her employees are around.

“Whatever, Theo visits you. I highly doubt you two are just talking when your door is closed,” Layla quips back.

I sink down on the other end of her couch, enjoying this little spat between my best friends. Gosh, I’ve missed them. I mean, I’ve seen them on the regular since I’ve been here, but nine years of video calls and text messages wasn’t enough.

“Oh, I’ll never deny sexy office time with my man. I’m just a lot quieter than you.” Cassie’s sly smile has Layla’s jaw dropping. I cover my mouth to not bring attention to myself. But it doesn’t matter, Cassie’s super power is including everyone in the conversation.

“What about you, Stella? Any recent sexy encounters?”

I can’t help laughing while I shake my head. “That would be a big, fat negative.”

Cassie pops out her bottom lip. “Booo.”

“It’s been too long. There may be cobwebs,” I add with a sigh. It’s depressing but true. I need to get laid.

Layla cocks her head. “You know?—”

I put up a hand. “Let me stop you right there, girlfriend. Not gonna let you match me to my next lay.”

She audibly gasps. “First of all, I’ve known you long enough to know you would never let me match you, even if I could find you your one true love. And secondly, I don’t use my skills to set up sex dates. I’m not a gigolo.”

Cassie giggles and I blow Layla a kiss. “You would make a fantastic gigolo, though.”

Layla picks up a stress ball that’s shaped like a banana and throws it at me. I catch with ease.

“That’s it. You need to get laid, Stell,” Cassie declares.

I snort. “No shit,” I mutter, glaring down at the squishy banana as I squeeze it.

“You know the best place to meet guys looking for hookups?” Cassie asks.

“The bar?” I ask.

Layla says, “Weddings?”

“Ding, ding, ding! Layla wins the round.” Cassie points to her.

I start to open my mouth to point out I’m not a wedding crasher when Cassie adds, “No joke, groomsmen are a horny bunch. Just picture it—pun intended. The sexy, cynical wedding photographer catches the eye of the recently heartbroken best man, they strike up a conversation, share a drink after she finishes capturing the most beautiful wedding ever, and then…he invites her to his hotel room for a dip into the minibar. One thing leads to another…”

“And they live happily ever after,” Layla adds.

“No, not in this story, Lays. Remember, our girl is allergic to feelings.” Cassie nods in my direction.

Layla nods in agreement, and I reject the thought. “Am not!” It’s my turn to throw the banana across the room.

“Are too.” Cassie laughs and sticks her tongue out when the stress banana hits her in the chest.

“I just don’t subscribe to the whole theory of love. You know this.”

“Hence why she called you a cynic,” Layla says softly.

I pretend growl at her. “At least I’m not a screamer.”

“Oh, my God. I’m not loud when I have sex!” Layla yells. We all break out in laughter.

“For real, though. Am I loud when Cole is here?” Layla looks as if she’s about to freak the fuck out.

Cassie gives her a reassuring smile. “No, girl. I would have told you already. I was just giving you are hard time.”

Layla visibly deflates with relief.

“It’s just obvious when the man leaves with pep in his step, and you have that post-sex glow.” Cassie reaches out and pats her knee. Layla groans.

“Ugh. I want an after sex glow,” I whine.

“Then get you some girl.” Cassie gestures toward the door.

“I’m going out tonight.”

“Get it!” Cassie dances in her seat.

“I don’t suppose you two are free…” I add skeptically.

Cassie’s smile falls. I glance at Layla, and she pouts a little. I already knew the answer. They’ve settled down. Committed relationships. If I want to go out with my girls, it’s planned.

“No worries, for real.” I give them an encouraging smile. Really, I knew this would happen, I’m not settling down. They’ve always been in the “someday wives” club.

“Let’s plan a night out, though. Soon,” Cass offers. I nod.

I decide it’s time to move away from this conversation topic, so I ask, “Remind me why we are meeting here again?”

“Because we just want to get you in the building as often as possible, so you eventually decide to come work with us. This place is addicting, and it’s like a second home. We want you to spend more time here,” Layla explains.

I cock my head. “I just recently acquired a first home.” I think about the little three-bedroom house I rented in Meridian-Kessler. It has a yard.

I have a yard…

“Exactly. Everyone needs a second home. This one won’t cost you money, you would actually be paid to be here. Win-win,” Cassie adds, like it’s a no-brainer.

“And what exactly would I be paid to do?” I know the answer. But I’ll play along.

“Uh, hello, dumb dumb, you’d be the sexy, cynical wedding photographer,” Cassie says.

I roll my eyes. “Good lord, you two do not stop. Do you?”

“Never!” Layla says.

I sigh. “The worst person you could hire to shoot your wedding is someone who doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage. Every photo would carry an aura that screams, “’This won’t last!”’ I rub the space between my eyes for some relief to the pounding that is starting behind my eyes.

“Wowzers. We’ve got some work to do, Layla. This is straight-up Sandra Bullock in The Proposal level of emotional blockage. I mean, I don’t even think she’d fake a relationship for a green card at this point.”

I shake my head and try not to laugh. Which is hard to do.

But the woman isn’t wrong.