A Real Day Off

I wake up Sunday morning with a smile on my face. For a second, I wonder why I'm so happy. Then I remember. The grand opening. Tons of positive reviews. Seeing Delilah and other friends. And my wonderful employees, working together so well!

I lie in bed for at least 10 extra minutes just going over the highlights. Once I get out of bed and look around at the dirty clothing strewn across my usually tidy lilac and green bedroom, my smile falls. I push aside the pretty lilac and green quilt I made in a high school sewing class (that served as the inspiration for my bedroom decor) and get up to survey the mess. My apartment looks even worse than the dining room looked two weeks ago. I've been devoting all my time and attention to the restaurant and have had no personal time outside of barely eating and a few restless hours of sleep every night.

Since today is everyone's day off, including mine, as Everett very firmly reminded me last night, I need to get my crap together.

I start with a hot shower and change into some 'get stuff done' pants (leggings) and an old t-shirt. I bundle my hair into a messy bun, eat a bowl of cereal, and put on a playlist of my favorite songs.

It takes four hours (four FREAKING hours!) to get my apartment clean. It's not even a big apartment! Just my decent-size bedroom with a walk-in closet and small-ish bathroom, a linen closet, and an open living room/dining room/kitchen area that is adequate for a single woman, but by no means large.

As I finish dusting the knick knack shelf in the living room, I fall onto the cozy, worn, blue couch with a sigh. I'm exhausted and the day isn't even half over. And I'm still working on getting through all of the laundry. Thank goodness for the small washer and dryer in a closet off the kitchen. For now, I let myself melt into the couch and enjoy the sight of my clean apartment before getting up and throwing together lunch.

While I am a terrible creator of foods, I'm not a bad cook in normal terms. I can follow a recipe just fine, thank you very much. I pull up my Pinterest board and select a dish that I haven't made before.

When I finish making my creamed eggs over toast, I sit and enjoy the meal at my very clean little second-hand table. The dark wood finish is scratched and peeling, but I love it anyway. I switched out my cute Easter centerpiece with a little vase of fake spring flowers and a cute little robin statue. These, along with a garland of fake flowers draped over the door to the small back patio, will be my seasonal decor for the dining room until mid-May, when I bust out all my patriotic stuff.

I get my love of decorating from Mom. She always has fun seasonal stuff around the house. Helping her take down the old and put up the new is how I marked the changing seasons growing up. Since I left home 5 years ago, I've been slowly building up my own collection.

Keeping up with Mom's decorating schedule helps me stay connected. I always send her a video of my apartment when I finish changing out my decor.

That reminds me that I need to hang my spring wreath on the front door, then take my video for Mom. I quickly clean up my lunch mess and put out the wreath, then record the video. I've just sent it when I hear the doorbell.

It rings three times in quick succession and I roll my eyes. I'd know that ringing anywhere. I hurry to the front door with a smile and unlock it for Kim. My short, slim, adorable Asian bestie immediately wraps me in a hug while squealing excitedly.

"Oh my heck, Lacy Lou! You're a hit!"

I laugh as I return her hug. "I know! Isn't it crazy? Are all the reviews still positive?"

"Oh yeah, girl! Everyone LOVED it! I loved it! Dante was super impressed too!" Dante is her hot, funny boyfriend. He's the first guy she's dated that I've actually approved of.

"Well, if Dante is impressed, you know it was good!" He's also notoriously picky about his food. We laugh as we move to the couch and plop down on the plump blue cushions.

"Oh yeah. And that chef of yours is awesome! I caught a peek when he came out to meet Delilah and he is FINE!"

I laugh. "Yeah, he's definitely good looking."

"Is that it? Is he one of those guys whose looks are all he's really got?" She looks really disappointed at the thought.

"Oh no," I quickly reassure her. "From what I've seen of him, he's funny and smart. And pretty nice. And obviously a great cook! He seems to manage the kitchen staff really well, too. I mean, it's early days yet, but I think he'll be a good partner. Bit of a temper though." I think back on his outburst during our interviews. He hasn't done anything like that since, but sometimes I worry that I'm going to set him off again when I have to deliver bad news.

"Wait, partner? I thought he was strictly your employee! I thought you weren't going the 'partner with my chef' route again." Kim looks at me suspiciously and I feel my cheeks heat in a blush.

"Well, I tied his salary to the profits and offered him thirty percent."

"Thirty percent is not a partner."

"He's not my official partner! Just. . . he FEELS like my partner. Like, he helps. He doesn't let me tackle everything by myself. He's been at the restaurant almost as much as I have the last two weeks."

"Is that why you haven't been answering your phone? Is there something going on between you and your hot chef?" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I laugh, but I can feel myself blushing again, too.

"Nothing but work," I answer honestly. "I haven't been answering my phone because I've been crazy busy trying to pick up the pieces Jeff left behind."

"Aw hon," Kim says, wrapping an arm around me. "We haven't really had a chance to talk. How are you doing with that?"

"Honestly, I feel like it hasn't really hit me yet. Like, I've been so busy just trying to keep my life together and make this restaurant work without the main ingredient that I haven't had time to process that it's over. He's gone."

"You expect him to come back?"

"No, not like that. I just haven't had a chance to get used to his absence because I haven't had to do anything alone that we used to do together. In a sense, I think it's been a blessing that Lovebird Cafe is changing my schedule and my priorities. It makes Jeff's absence less. . . obvious, I guess."

"Do you need to have a girl's night and purge him from your system? We could burn or shred all the crap you have that reminds you of him and then eat ice cream and watch a chick flick with some hot eye candy!"

I laugh at Kim's exuberance. "I don't know if I'm quite ready for that. I want to make sure the restaurant is on solid footing before I face this because I'm worried that once I finally let myself feel, I'm going to be a useless mess for a few days, at least."

Kim sighs and pats my back. "That's probably a good, sensible idea. When did you become the sensible one? This doesn't really seem like you?"

"I guess I had to grow up someday. I'm not completely sensible, don't worry. But I have to be smart about my restaurant. I'm not losing it now that I've come so far."

We sit in silence for a bit, then Kim perks up. "You know what we should do?" she asks with her biggest, Kim-iest smile.

"Take a nap?" I guess. Her smile just grows. "Mani/pedis? Go to the park?" I feel a spark of fear as her smile just keeps growing, looking more and more mischievous. I know that look. That's her 'I have a brilliant idea that sounds super fun and may or may not land us in jail for the night' look.

"No. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I want no part in it," I say, shaking my head and scooting away from her. She just scoots along with me.

"But it will be so fun!"

I continue to shake my head, ignoring her pleading eyes and 'beg-y lips', as I long ago dubbed her cute little pout that she uses to try and get her way. She succeeds more often than I care to admit, and today will probably be no different.

I sigh dramatically and start to give in. "Go ahead and tell me your brilliant idea so I can say no again."

She squeals and bounces up and down a few times, knowing that means I'm on the path to agreeing. "You're going to love it! So Dante's friend owns a catering company. You remember Garret?" At my nod, she continues. "They're catering a big gala for a bunch of rich snobs tonight and they need waitresses."

Seeing where she's going with this, I say tentatively, "And you want us to go be. . . waitresses? For a catering company?" I'm surprised because that sounds like a very reasonable, completely legal activity.

"Yeah! Except, here's what we'll do to jazz it up." Oh no. Oh no no no no. When Kim uses the phrase 'jazz it up' to describe a plan, it ALWAYS gets us into trouble.

I shake my head as I remember the last time we 'jazzed it up.' It was for a friend's wedding. Kim convinced me that we should wear these very. . . unique dresses. They were long-sleeve, v-neck (deep v-neck), floor length gowns in an eye-catching shade of teal with unique embroidery along the edges. They were really pretty, and nothing seemed amiss until one of the Indian groom's brothers informed us that the embroidery that looked so pretty was actually Bengali, which most of their family was fluent in. And what did it say? Well, we're not 100% sure, because it was so inappropriate, he turned bright red and refused to tell us. But definitely something about, well, certain activities between men and women.

I know, I know, it wasn't Kim's fault. She couldn't have known that would happen. I'm just saying, I think that her term 'jazz it up' is cursed, because it usually brings terrible, unexpected misfortune on us.

Blinking out of my thoughts, I realize that I completely missed her explanation. Now she's looking at me expectantly and I have no idea what she said. I shake my head to clear it and smile sheepishly.

"Would you hate me if I asked you to repeat everything you said after 'jazz it up'?" I ask.

She sighs a very long suffering sigh. "I knew you were zoned out. Okay, so to jazz it up, we're going to take our best formal dresses and, after the dinner, we'll sneak into the bathroom, change, and hit the dance floor!" She beams like she's just presented the secret to ending world hunger.

"I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong." I pretend to clean out my ear. "Did you really just suggest that we CRASH a super fancy gala after working said gala as waitresses?"

Her smile doesn't even dim. "Yeah! It'll be so much fun! I'll call Dante and he can join us! He's great around rich people!"

"Duh! He works at a huge investment firm. He makes his money helping rich people. What if he runs into a client? What if someone recognizes us as waitresses? What if we get in trouble? Or kicked out? What if someone hears about it and it causes a huge scandal and my business crashes?"

Kim just waves her hand. "Oh, you worry too much. Everything will be fiiiine. And it will take your mind off of work and Jeff and. . . everything!"

"Right," I mutter. "Because I'll be too busy trying not to die of anxiety or give away who I really am or embarrass myself. Sounds like sooo much fun."

"Come on. When have my ideas ever not cheered you up."

Before I can start enumerating the many, many times her ideas have not panned out, she quickly interjects. "Besides, it's a masquerade."

"Huh?" Her statement catches me off guard.

"It's a masquerade! So we'll be wearing masks and looking all hot and mysterious! I know you've always wanted to go to a fancy masquerade! This is your chance!"

I think for a moment. I have always wanted to go to a fancy masquerade. And my worries about being recognized are significantly less knowing we'll be wearing masks. I sigh, resigned to my fate. "You'd better call Dante. There's no way I'm doing this without a man by our sides."