READY OR NOT (CAMREN)

ONE

Nine years later

Lauren brushed a triumphant strand of hair from her forehead as she crossed Sixty-eighth and Broadway, her own little victory song laying down a beat in her head. Moments before, she'd sealed the deal with an up-and-coming dog-food brand, a hard-to-land account. She'd done her research, nurtured the relationship, and had articulated her presentation exactly the way she'd rehearsed. It had taken weeks of long hours at the office in preparation, but her hard work and her team's innovation had won them the account over one of the advertising giants in town.

Her favorite kind of victory.

Now it was time to celebrate. She texted the news back to the office, and her friends immediately flooded her screen, suggesting celebratory drinks at their favourite bar. Perfect. Because this kind of thing was worth celebrating, as it marked another amazing victory for So Harmony.

As she walked, still on the amazing high, Lauren considered switching from the heels on her feet to the comfy sneakers she kept in her attaché for traversing the streets of Manhattan. But actually, no, the heels felt like part of her mojo in the present moment. She'd leave them on.

Strut a little.

Toss her hair when she felt like it, because that was the kind of awesome day it had been. Her feet would deal with the fallout later, as nothing on Earth could topple the feeling she got after landing an account. It could only be described as the best drug around. Euphoria. Pride. Excitement—all wrapped up into one. If another kind of experience that could fill her up this way existed, she'd yet to encounter it.

Lauren hopped the C train back to So Harmony, mentally high-fiving every person in her car, and made her way up the sidewalk on Spring Street to the bar. HAVANA is their go-to spot to let off a little steam and unwind from the day. They served the best drinks and offered a laid-back vibe. Plus, it was their place, and that made it awesome in its own right.

She located Ally, Dinah and Normani at their standard table to the left of the long wooden bar at the center of the room. Purple lights backlit the bottles of alcohol in a rather grandiose display that Lauren couldn't help but transfix on every once in a while. Something artistic about it drew her eye. The ceilings were tall, and the industrial rafters offered a gritty vibe reminiscent of old-school NYC that contrasted nicely with the trendier furniture.

The place was already filling up with locals, mostly lesbians but some not, and it was only just now five o'clock. So much for their best-kept secret. In the past year, Havana had seemed to double in popularity. It functioned as a bar during the week but transformed into an edgier nightspot on weekends, complete with a DJ and a very active dance floor.

As Lauren approached the table, her three friends broke out in a round of applause. "I'd sing 'For She's a Jolly Good Fellow,' but no one wants to hear me sing," Normani said, pulling Lauren into an embrace. "You're an advertising rock star, you know that?"

Lauren smiled widely. "Thanks for noticing, and no singing required. Plus, it was a total team effort. They loved your graphics," she said to Normani. "As in, gonna-propose-and-have-their-children loved."

"Score," Normani said, smiling.

"And the pitch? How'd that go? We need details." Dinah's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"They ate it up," Lauren told them, then shifted to meet Ally's gaze. "Your day-in-the-life-of-a-dog idea had the whole room buzzing. They laughed. They applauded. Lives were changed forever. Oh, and they signed the contract." She pulled it from her attaché and held it up in victory for her friends to see.

Dinah snatched it and studied the fine print. "And they're going with the recommended budget. Nice score, Ms. Jauregui."

Lauren grinned proudly. "I thought you'd like that, money ninja that you are. I'm getting the drinks today. We all deserve it. Martinis?"