Black

“How did we go from talking about your wedding to my love life?”

“Your love life is much more interesting.”

“I beg to differ.” She gives me a quick are-you-crazy look before focusing on the road.

“I’m not talking about this anymore.”

Erin yanks the car to the right and then immediately to the left before pulling up to the curb in front of Josalyn’s office. “Don’t forget about dinner tonight. Reservations are at seven. What time do you get off?”

Grabbing my purse, I open the passenger door. “I haven’t forgotten, but it’s really not necessary. I don’t need a big fancy dinner.”

“Um, yes, it is necessary. What time do you get off?”

“Six-thirty.”

“Want me to pick you up?”

“Nah. No sense in you fighting the traffic. It’ll be quicker for me to hoof it.”

Rolling her eyes, Erin sighs. “Please don’t hoof it. It’s way too far. Call an Uber or call me. Just don’t be late.”

Waving her off, I slip from the car and shut the door, watching her cut into traffic, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.

Slowly, I spin around. Josalyn’s office is situated on the north side of town—even farther north than my place—away from the cramped buildings and hustle and bustle of the Loop. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still busy around here, but it’s a different kind of busy.

When I push open the front door, I’m greeted by the fresh smell of lemon and the lyrics to my favorite Bon Jovi song. Coming into Josalyn’s office is like going to a girlfriend’s house to have a glass of wine. Extremely laid back, she has an office like an eclectic coffee shop, the walls adorned with exquisite photographs of various events she’s planned. The floors are a distressed wood, and the main room is a mixture of brightly colored chairs, an oversized coffee table, and enough flowers to make you feel like you’re in a garden. She has a tiny office in the back corner, although she’s rarely in there. Most days she lounges on the couch, working furiously at her computer, or pacing across the room with her phone attached to her ear. Today, however, she’s doing neither.

Dropping my bag on the couch, I go in search of Josalyn, only to find her sitting on a yoga mat in her office—legs crossed, hands perched on her knees, and eyes closed. This is new. I’ve yet to find her meditating, but whatever. There are plenty of things I can do to keep myself busy until she’s done. I rustle through my bag, pulling out the Layken file.

Victoria Layken, a high-society debutante turned doting wife to Richard Layken, one of Chicago’s top lawyers, is planning an elegant baby shower for her new sister-in-law. And when I say elegant, I mean that this unborn child will have more bells and whistles at its pre-birth party than most women have at their weddings. Sparing no expense, Victoria is intent on impressing her in-laws with the baby shower of the year.

It’s a little over the top if you ask me, but who am I to judge? I’m just here to make sure everything she could ever dream of and ask for is delivered on a silver platter, which is why I spend the next several hours on the phone.

Somewhere during that time, Josalyn appears, looking exceptionally relaxed. With a little wave, she makes herself at home on the couch, working away on her computer and stopping every few minutes to listen in on my phone conversation—something I don’t mind at all. This is her company, after all, and if she wants something done a different way, I’d rather her tell me.

“Here’s the Layken file.”

> Josalyn looks up from her laptop and takes the file. “Were you able to secure the location she wanted?”

“Yes, ma’am. And I also secured the date with the caterer she chose, as well as the florist.”

“Wow. Thank you, Shae.”

“I can’t believe she hired a caterer and florist for a baby shower. Where I grew up, a baby shower consisted of a few close friends and family getting together at the local church hall to celebrate over cold-cut sandwiches and dime-store cake.”

Josalyn’s face lights up. “Now that would be an easy party to plan. And I have no idea, why anyone needs all this, but as long as I’m getting paid, I’ll do whatever the heck she wants. Good work on this, Shae.” She taps the file.

I soak up the praise, hoping that if I impress her enough, she’ll eventually hire me on full time. Her business is growing by leaps and bounds, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up needing full-time help by the end of the year. If I do well, I should be first in line.

I spend the next few minutes catching up on emails, and when the clock on the wall says it’s nearly six-thirty, I start packing my bag.

“You up for some extra hours?” Josalyn asks, her eyes still trained on the screen in front of her.

“Always.” I drop down in the plush chair across from her and cross my legs. I never did find another part-time job, so I’m eager for extra work. “What do you have for me?”

“A last-minute anniversary party. It’s going to require a lot of work because there isn’t much time, and I wasn’t going to take it on, but if you want it, it’s yours.”

“Yes,” I say, a little too excitedly. “I absolutely want it. Thank you.”