to.” I sighed again, feeling the weight of that whole fucking fiasco.
“I’m going to change the subject, because we have no ability to change your visits with the hot fucker, and I want to know about tonight. I feel very good about this plan. Salome told me you sent her an invite. It’s still happening, right?”
“I think so. And yes, I sent her one. I’ve been too scared to check if anyone has canceled, but last time I saw there were like six yeses.” I refused to put the app on my phone, because I knew I’d be checking all day at work. “I picked a stupid name.”
She balked at that. “Gotham Exiles Club is a fucking brilliant name.”
“Okay, fine. It’s a great name, but enough about me. What are you up to tonight?”
“Welp, we were going to go to a trivia night, but it’s raining and I just washed my hair. So instead we’re making lasagna and binge watching something.”
“Are things still going well with Nicole?”
“She’s great.” Super vague, on brand. Alba had started seeing Nicole, another student in her master of architecture program, a few months ago, and so far her usual evasive maneuvers seemed to be on hold. Alba was pretty much allergic to anything that even sniffed of domesticity, which was why I found the dinner-and-a-movie-at-home scenario intriguing. I was about to probe more, but she spoke before I could start “getting serious” on her.
“Back to you though. Babe, you’ve been there for a few months and you didn’t get off to the best start. It takes time. Awesome women like us need to get the lay of the land before we find people that suit us. We’re not just picking up friends randomly, especially if you work with them, because if they suck you’re stuck with awkward lunch room scenarios on the regular.”
I nodded at the empty room. “True. True. If only we were basic bitches who could just be friends with anyone, life would be a lot easier.”
Alba made an affirmative sound on the phone. “Alas, we want people who come preloaded with good taste in wine, books, music, and at least a conceptual knowledge of black feminist theory.” By the time she was done listing our preferred friend features, she could barely talk she was laughing so hard. “You’d think it wouldn’t be that hard.”
“You’d think!” I answered, laughing just as hard. “Seriously though. I hope awesome people show up.”
Sturm’s was one of those workplaces where everyone seemed to be too cool for real life and made me just a bit insecure. But so far, most people had been nice. I just hoped whoever showed up didn’t just come to laugh in my face and call me a loser.
I had to get out of my feelings stat or I was risking an Alba pep talk, but I knew how to distract her. “The saddest part of not making any friends will be not having anyone to share the amazingness of having a two-bedroom apartment with two and half bathrooms.”
I knew that would make her laugh. “Wow, that really has been life-changing for you, huh?”
“You know how New York City apartments are, Alba. You live in one. I have three functional toilets right now.”
“Yes, it’s remarkable.” I snorted at Alba’s consistent disinterest in my magical bathroom situation. “Back to the meetup, I’m sure people will show. You know the New Yorkers at that company are as desperate as you are to find other people who use the word ‘fuck’ as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb...in the same sentence.”
“My fucking peoples,” I said, with a lot more longing in my voice than I intended.
“Check to see if anyone else responded.” I sighed, but obliged because I knew she was not going to get off the phone until I did.
Three more RSVPs and two cancellations. “I have a total of seven people. So maybe I won’t be sitting alone at the eight-person table I reserved.” I felt slightly better about the situation as I clicked on the profiles of the newcomers. One was Dani Andam, a fine-as-fuck Ghanaian slash Cuban marketing executive at corporate. Dani was bomb and hailed from somewhere in Manhattan. He was also very popular in the office, so having his seal of approval would give me some street cred.
“The Insta famous guy I told you about is coming.”
Alba grunted, “Oh, Mister Product Placement. He gives off mad fuckboi vibes in his photos, but if he’s cool with you I’ll give him