CHAPTER 1
Ivy
“You’re going to kill it at this new job. You deserve this!” my best friend, Mya, says before clinking the glass against mine.
My stomach muscles tighten, but I smile and take a sip of my lemon drop to finish the cheers.
We’re in the new but trendy clubVibrationsin the heart of Los Angeles.Mya insisted we come to celebrate my new job. The entertainment law firm where Mya works as a junior associate, represents one of the club’s owners and she was able to get us in tonight as soon as I heard the news that I’d gotten the job at InTuition Pictures.
“Thank you,” I tell Mya, suppressing all of the what-ifs.
What if she’s wrong?
What if fleeing my parents’ home in Michigan and moving out here to Los Angeles was the biggest mistake of my life?
What if my new job as the assistant to the assistant of costume design at a major film studio doesn’t work out?
“Honestly, thank you for helping me get my foot in the door in the first place,” I say. “It’s only because of you they even talkedto me. I’m sure once they checked out my resumé and lack of degree that?—”
Mya holds her hand up. “Don’t even go there. You have your degree … two degrees,” she adds.
Yeah, but not the right ones.
Another doubt I choose to keep to myself, knowing she’ll just tell me to stop beating myself up for not finishing my degree in fashion design.
It’s not your fault your parents put you in such a terrible spot, Mya told me when I’d hesitated over applying to the job in the first place.
Shaking those doubts off, I throw back the last of my lemon drop.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mya shouts over the music.
“Anyway, my wand curls are still holding up, which means we haven’t danced enough,” I joke as I rise to stand on my four-inch stiletto boots, a gift to myself after I found out that I got the job.
I extend my hand to Mya before looking over her shoulder, noticing the man approaching our table.
“Sorry, Jason, but your fiancée and I deserve a dance or two.”
“Or three!” Mya shouts as she rises to her feet.
Jason chuckles and leans in to kiss Mya on her cheek. “I’m just the designated driver,” he replies good-naturedly.
“You’re more than that, baby,” Mya says. “You’re also the purse holder and drink watcher.” She points at our drinks before handing him the black clutch in her hands.
Jason volunteers to take mine.
My heart squeezes at these two. Despite the extreme wealth Jason comes from, he’s still humble enough to allow Mya her shine. Not for the first time, my heart longs for something I can’t put into words.
“Let’s go,” I say once a song by my favorite female rapper starts booming through the speakers.
I can’t remember the last time I went out to a nightclub. It’s typically not my scene. In college, Mya, Ari, our other bestie, and I had our nights out, sure, but even then I didn’t go out as often as many other college students.
The demands of completing multiple degrees at once impeded my social time. In the two years since finishing college, I’ve been trying to recover mentally, which was difficult to do while living at home with my parents.
I also struggled with being separated from my two closest friends since Mya was here in L.A. while Ari moved back home to North Carolina to be with her long-term boyfriend after she dropped out of school.
In the two months since I’ve lived in Los Angeles, this is the first time I’ve gone out aside from Saturday morning hikes and the occasional dinner or outing with Mya.
“This was what I needed,” I say two hours later as Mya, Jason, and I leave the night club.
