Page 9 of How Dare You
“I wish,” Allie sighs, popping open the tin. “Hopefully soon.”
Sadie was my roommate in college, and Allie and I have stayed close with her ever since. She’s been dating the same guy forever, and he couldn’t be less worthy of her if he tried. Reaching for my planner, I make a quick note to call her tomorrow.
Allie points around the tin, giving me a tour of the baked goods. “These frosted ones are cinnamon. These are her amazing chocolate chip ones, and these are something raspberry and fancy.”
“Chocolate chip, please,” I say, reaching for the cookie she’s already holding out to me.
“I can’t remember you ever working late this much before,” my best friend says, green eyes wide as she nods toward my computer.
That’s because I haven’t. “It’s been pretty busy,” I offer with a shrug.
“I thought things might be a little easier on you after you hired Bea, no?” she asks, leaning over the edge of the bed, careful not to get crumbs on my white linen duvet as she bites into a fancy raspberry cookie. Instead, they fall on my hand-knotted rug. At least she tried.
The truth of it is, I’m working late every night to figure out a solution to Friday West’s financial predicament. When I hired Bea, I had just signed two big projects that should have been more than enough to keep us in the black for the foreseeable future, but both fell apart. The first was Lemon + Sway, and the second was a new build in Palm Desert.
A week and a half after signing their contract, the homeowners of the new build called to tell me they were ‘going in another direction’ with their design and they didn’t think a small firm like mine could handle it. They were willing to lose their deposit with me to work with Trina. I never found out what direction she took their design in, but their story was uncomfortably similar to what happened at Lemon + Sway. It was enough to make me believe Trina was intentionally trying to draw clients away from me.
Allie tilts her head, patiently waiting for an answer. It’s rare for me to keep secrets from her, and it turns my stomach a bit to do it. But the issues with my business cut too deep for me to share with anyone, with the exception of my detrimental moment of poor decision making with Rhett almost two months ago. I haven’t told Allie about that either.
Allie and I have been friends since middle school, so we both grew up in the Unofficial Caroline Blake School of How to Be a Young Woman Entrepreneur. My mother is an architect, and she has owned her own firm since the late nineties. She wanted Allie and me both to be prepared to start our own businesses as early as possible, so everything was a lesson. We did our homework first thing when we got home from school because “Free time isn’t truly free unless all of your responsibilities are taken care of.” We’d get marketing critiques with each box of Girl Scout cookies, and most importantly, she made sure we knew we were powerful and could accomplish anything to which we set our minds.
Allie runs a successful coffee shop, and she is opening a bar with her boyfriend next week. It turns out she learned my mom’s lessons far better than I did. I can’t let her know something slipped through the cracks on my end and I could lose everything.
I give her an answer that isn’t exactly a lie but hides the most painful part of the truth. “Bea carries a lot of weight for me. She’s amazing, but it’s not right for her to have to work late because I overcommitted.”
Allie hums, rolling her lips together. She knows that’s not all of it, but she gives me the space I need, changing the subject. “Did she tell you she’s donating a private barre class for our silent auction?” Allie’s a bleeding heart, and I love her all the more for it. She found out about a senior dog rescue in Palm Springs that was running out of space and immediately started planning an event to raise money even though she’s also in the middle of a remodel and opening a new business.
“We talked about it this morning actually,” I answer. “How’s that coming, by the way? Anything I can do to help?”
Allie’s bright laughter pulls her face into a smile. “Honestly, the fact that you’re in charge of the remodel is giving me time to focus on the auction.” She points toward my laptop. “You already do too much.”
“I mean, you’re paying me.” Trina may have taken the Lemon + Sway project, but she never had a chance at Allie’s bar, Voyeur Café. Allie opened her coffee shop six years ago when we moved to Palm Springs together, and it was the first commercial design I’d ever done. At the time, I’d just started working for Trina, but managed to do it on nights and weekends on my own. The bar opens in the same space next week, so it’ll house both of Allie’s businesses. “How about I donate something for the auction. Would two weeks of design time work?”
“It would be amazing.” She hesitates for a long moment before adding, “But do you have time for that?”
“I will always make time for you.” I’m busier than I’ve ever been, but I know how to manage my schedule. If squeezing in two weeks of free design time helps Allie and the dogs, it’s worth moving things around. And maybe sleeping a little less.
“I’m doing all the paperwork to get the auction listing set up for you though.” Allie uncrosses her legs and slides off the end of my bed.
“Thanks, Al.” She’s not wrong about how much time I’ve spent working lately, and even though part of me wishes she hadn’t noticed, I’m mostly grateful that she did.
“I think you need a proper vacation.” She holds out the cookie tin for me one more time, and I take another chocolate chip. “But since I know that’s a hard sell, I’m claiming you for Taco Tuesday next week, instead. Okay?”
I swivel my chair back around to face my desk. “Putting it on my calendar right now.”
After Allie walks out, I send a text to Sadie.
Me: These cookies are a lifesaver.
Sadie: So happy you like them! Love you girls.
Me: Did you break up with him yet?
Sadie: Devon! You can’t text me shit like that. He might see.
Me: Change your password.
Me: And break up with him.