For The Plot

1

I ended up adding black pantyhose to my outfit, which I'm grateful for now that the outfit has come together. My jet black skirt ended short but hey, I look good. A black turtleneck jumper tucked into the skirt, though my black blazer practically covered it. A few layered necklaces and rings, a black shoulder bag and Jess's Doc Martins finished my outfit.

I squealed excitedly at how things are falling into place and whipped out my phone for a quick mirror picture.

After at least five minutes of posing and deleting, I finally took one that showed off my outfit well without making it look like I'm trying too hard. With the caption 'Ready 2 Go' I added it to my story and sent the picture to Jess.

Within seconds she called me again, this time sounding more awake. "Ready to go? To what, a funeral?"

"Jess-"

"I'm joking! You look hot- wait, are those my Docs?"

"Sorry! That's what happens when your leave them at my place."

"Ugh, bitch." She complained.

I turned off my music and placed her on speakerphone. "Don't act like you're not wearing my sweats right now."

"How did you know?"

"I was kidding, but at least now I know where they are."

"Sorry, they make my ass look really good though."

"I bet." I slipped my papers into my bag, along with a USB stick of a digital copy of my story.
"Hey, do you think I should bring something?"

"Like what, a condom?"

I rolled my eyes even though she can't see. "I was thinking cakes or something."

"They haven't signed you yet, don't waste your money on a few old men who won't even know who they're from."

"You're right. They aren't old though. It's ran by someone young - he built the company a couple months ago from nothing and now he's like super rich."

"Maybe you should bring them then - condoms, I mean."

"I'll give him your number."
I slipped my lipstick and purse into my bag, double checking everything before putting my phone to my ear.

"You do know you're like, famous, don't you? If they're young they'll know who you are."

"You think I'm Rihanna or something, I'm not that popular."

"Say that to the front of my magazine."

I ignored her comment, knowing she'll never stop bragging on my behalf. "I'm gonna leave now, I think."

"Break a leg, or your back-"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Joking. Good luck and call me straight after."

"Will do, bye."

I swung the bag over my shoulder and grabbed my keys, locking my apartment's door before I made my way down the stairwell.