says with dismay. “The second thing you’ll learn about this new boss of yours is that she just shows up at the last minute, wreaks havoc for an hour, and then takes credit for it all.”
“Really?” I walk back over to her. I can’t imagine not being there for every minute of an event setup if my name is the one on the wall.
“Really.” Miko is back to packing up. “Besides, it’s not just me. All the team heads go.”
What must that be like? To get to watch the whole party come together from the ground up?
“I’m so jealous. I can’t imagine how cool it must be to put all the pieces together.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll see more than enough. By tomorrow night just the sight of navy dupioni silk will make you want to gag.”
“You realize I don’t know what that is, right?”
“You will.” Miko runs a hand through her perfectly disheveled hair, grabs her latte, and walks off towards the elevator.
That afternoon the little office is noisier than usual. From my corner I hear McKenna and Quade field call after call about the bar mitzvah. Mixed in with all those calls is the usual load regarding the event we have next week and the three others before month’s end. For the first time it occurs to me how hard it must be to juggle so many high-profile parties at one time. You’re not allowed to tell one client you’re busy with another client’s event, so you’re forced to take calls and chat like you’re not drowning in your to-do list.
Both Quade and McKenna look worn down, and around three o’clock that afternoon they send me to get them lunch. It’s the first time I’ve seen either of them eat, and even though it’s just sushi I’m sort of relieved that, in their own anorexic way, they’re emotional eaters just like I am.
On my way home that night I’m stuck in traffic near Robertson. Katy Perry is crooning on the radio and my windows are down, letting in air that’s only slightly chilly. Down the sidewalk and across the street I see a tall, extremely tan older man wearing a pair of boy shorts, old sneakers, and headphones. His lack of clothing on its own would have caught my eye, but it’s the fact that he’s dancing wildly that has me inching my car forward, trying to figure out what his deal is. As I draw closer I realize he’s dancing along with his own reflection in a storefront window, and I can’t help but giggle.
Mama would say he’s drunker than a run-over yard dog, but I like him. He’s clearly a little nuts, but you know what? He’s working with it. There he is on this busy street, wearing his skivvies, and finding his own little moment of joy. My first thought is I need to be more like that guy! The second is to wonder what this says about the turn my life has taken—I’m idealizing the crazy, naked dancing man on Robertson.
Chapter SIX
McKenna tells me the dress code for the mitzvah is . . . wait for it . . . all black.
I have to recycle my black cocktail dress from earlier in the week, but this time I pair it with black tights and my black ballet flats. I didn’t do many events back in Texas, but it only took one for me to understand that running around in heels for ten hours is a special kind of torture.
I curl my blonde hair like normal, but then I get nervous that maybe I should look a little more conservative since this is a religious event, so I pin it back. I add the pearl earrings Mama and Daddy gave me for graduation and toss a mint-green cardigan into my bag. Surely, if it gets really chilly, they’ll let me wear it even though it’s colorful.
The party is at the Lerner’s home in Bel Air, and I have no earthly idea how anyone can host a party for four hundred people in their own home. I’m dying to see how it’s done!
It’s 3:47 p.m. when I pull up to a gate at the address I’ve been given. Thank God I left over an hour ago, or I never would have made it here on time! I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Do I call McKenna?
“Really?” I walk back over to her. I can’t imagine not being there for every minute of an event setup if my name is the one on the wall.
“Really.” Miko is back to packing up. “Besides, it’s not just me. All the team heads go.”
What must that be like? To get to watch the whole party come together from the ground up?
“I’m so jealous. I can’t imagine how cool it must be to put all the pieces together.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll see more than enough. By tomorrow night just the sight of navy dupioni silk will make you want to gag.”
“You realize I don’t know what that is, right?”
“You will.” Miko runs a hand through her perfectly disheveled hair, grabs her latte, and walks off towards the elevator.
That afternoon the little office is noisier than usual. From my corner I hear McKenna and Quade field call after call about the bar mitzvah. Mixed in with all those calls is the usual load regarding the event we have next week and the three others before month’s end. For the first time it occurs to me how hard it must be to juggle so many high-profile parties at one time. You’re not allowed to tell one client you’re busy with another client’s event, so you’re forced to take calls and chat like you’re not drowning in your to-do list.
Both Quade and McKenna look worn down, and around three o’clock that afternoon they send me to get them lunch. It’s the first time I’ve seen either of them eat, and even though it’s just sushi I’m sort of relieved that, in their own anorexic way, they’re emotional eaters just like I am.
On my way home that night I’m stuck in traffic near Robertson. Katy Perry is crooning on the radio and my windows are down, letting in air that’s only slightly chilly. Down the sidewalk and across the street I see a tall, extremely tan older man wearing a pair of boy shorts, old sneakers, and headphones. His lack of clothing on its own would have caught my eye, but it’s the fact that he’s dancing wildly that has me inching my car forward, trying to figure out what his deal is. As I draw closer I realize he’s dancing along with his own reflection in a storefront window, and I can’t help but giggle.
Mama would say he’s drunker than a run-over yard dog, but I like him. He’s clearly a little nuts, but you know what? He’s working with it. There he is on this busy street, wearing his skivvies, and finding his own little moment of joy. My first thought is I need to be more like that guy! The second is to wonder what this says about the turn my life has taken—I’m idealizing the crazy, naked dancing man on Robertson.
Chapter SIX
McKenna tells me the dress code for the mitzvah is . . . wait for it . . . all black.
I have to recycle my black cocktail dress from earlier in the week, but this time I pair it with black tights and my black ballet flats. I didn’t do many events back in Texas, but it only took one for me to understand that running around in heels for ten hours is a special kind of torture.
I curl my blonde hair like normal, but then I get nervous that maybe I should look a little more conservative since this is a religious event, so I pin it back. I add the pearl earrings Mama and Daddy gave me for graduation and toss a mint-green cardigan into my bag. Surely, if it gets really chilly, they’ll let me wear it even though it’s colorful.
The party is at the Lerner’s home in Bel Air, and I have no earthly idea how anyone can host a party for four hundred people in their own home. I’m dying to see how it’s done!
It’s 3:47 p.m. when I pull up to a gate at the address I’ve been given. Thank God I left over an hour ago, or I never would have made it here on time! I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Do I call McKenna?
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