Of course, Bethany wanted more invitations to the product launch of a new stiletto by the well-known shoe company, Emergence.
“I’m on it,” Ivy said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yep,” Bethany said.
Ivy plugged her phone in to charge and started the hour drive home. She missed living in the West End condo she had shared with Gabe, her perfect home in the heart of the city, five minutes from the beach. She missed her morning yoga session, and she didn’t get to see her friends as much.
Not that many friends stood by her after she made that post. Ivy chewed her lip. Her life sucked, and it was all her fault. But she didn’t think it was fair. People posted stupid stuff on social media all the time. Why she was one of the few people to suffer consequences for it irked her.
Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment building, Ivy groaned, seeing Bethany’s father, Mark’s number flashing on her screen.
“Hello, Mr. Wilder.”
“Ivy? You get another hundred people at the Grand Lake hotel on Friday, or we are firing you. We took a chance on you, and I expect better results.”
“Mr. Wilder, of course. I am sending out a new set of invites tonight. I expect attendance to be great.”
“Glad to hear it. Bethany would never let on, but these recent threats have shaken her. I don’t like them. So I’ve hired a security firm for the evening.”
“Oh?” Ivy’s heart leapt into her mouth.
She wondered if it would be Axis Management, and she bit her lip. They handled security for celebrities. Not that Bethany was an A-lister. But Mr. Wilder had connections. She didn’t want to see Gabe.
“Yes, Stone Security will oversee extra security measures at the event. I don’t think there is anything to these threats, but it’s better to be overcautious. Bethany is excited about this; don’t let her down.”
“It’s going to be an exceptional event,” Ivy promised.
“Okay, see you Friday.” Mr. Wilder hung up.
In the lobby of her apartment building, she collected the mail and climbed the three flights of stairs. She missed the concierge service. She missed door-to-door mail and not having to drag the laundry to a laundromat.
Ivy sighed, hearing the music blaring from one neighbour and the daily domestic screaming match from the other. This wasn’t the life she wanted. But it’s where life brought her after Gabe told her to leave that night. Her friend Emery told her to put out resumes, but Ivy tried, and each time she went to job search, a ball of anxiety formed so tightly in her stomach that she couldn’t get past it. It was hard to start over again.
She pushed her door open.
“Good, you’re home!” Her roommate, Holton, grinned at her.
“Yes, I am, Mr. Birke. How was your day?”
Ivy shrugged off her rain jacket and kicked off her boots.
“It was glamorous as usual. But I have an audition tonight.”
“You’ll get it!”
In the tiny galley kitchen, she filled her French press with her favourite coffee and flipped on the electric kettle.
“Yes! But then you’ll have to look for a roommate again!” Holton sang.
“You won’t leave me.” She grinned.
“You’re right! But we’ll move to something bigger and grander,” Holton said.
Ivy smiled. The only person to still talk to her from her old work was her friend Emery, Holton’s sister, and when Ivy said she needed a place to live fast, Emery suggested her brother. Ivy was grateful for the connection, she knew how hard it was to find a place on short notice, and she didn’t want to move back home to Alberta.
Ivy tidied the dishes on the counter. She owed her parents a call. Telling them she had lost the job at Metric had been so hard. Her dad’s gruff, “You know, you could come home.” And her mother’s fawning worry had sent her into a crying heap as soon as she hung up with them. Ivy had fibbed and told them her firing was due to staff changes, and then she bit her lip, realizing she was doing exactly what Gabe had often accused her of, lying.
She and Gabe hadn’t discussed what would happen with the condo, so she was still automatically paying her half of the mortgage. She hadn’t talked to Gabe since that awful morning. Other than sending him an email with her new address, she hadn’t had contact with him at all. The day Metric fired her, she came home to most of her stuff boxed up, delivered by a courier company.
