luck for the night - rl.

1. 'fun' and 'businesspeople' don't belong in the same sentence.

When I was a kid, I never understood why some kids got the newest game consoles for their birthday and went to Disneyland Paris every year, while other kids spent their summers alone in their flats while their parents worked. How some parents never had that worried look on their face while doing groceries, like my parents did.

I realised, after months of thinking, that it was a matter of luck. The kids with their Playstations, iPods and trips to Disneyland were lucky that their parents got enough money from their bosses. They were lucky that their parents had enough money to buy expensive foods while doing groceries.

But why were some kids luckier than others? My young brain couldn't make sense of it. My parents told me that everybody in the world was the same, deserved the same. Wasn't it the same with luck?

One late night, I understood. With so much bad luck in the world, so many bad things going on, everyone deserved at least one moment of luck a day. Just one spark of that magical thing, one second, could turn your whole day, maybe even your life around.

And for Timmy from school that was a trip to Disneyland. For me, It could be my dad having enough energy to read me a fairytale before bed, doing the silly voices I used to love. It could be my grandma coming over for a tea party, bringing those biscuits covered in chocolate, the ones with crispy sugar on top.

I remember falling asleep that night, a smile on my young face. I had made sense of it. I was proud of myself. So proud, that I never stopped believing in the theory I had made as a kid. All through my teen years, and now as an adult, I wondered every morning what my lucky moment of the day would be.

But I knew my lucky moment of today was far away when my phone started to vibrate in my hand, showing my best friend's name on the display.

"Hey, Mel!" I got up from my bed, throwing the heavenly crisp hotel bedsheets off my legs.

Fuck, it is seven thirty already?

I had spent all day in bed, after taking the night train to London. I arrived at my hotel at four in the morning, not being able to sleep until the sun already hit the sky. I slept for four hours, after which I turned on the TV, but I ended up scrolling through an endless pit of short videos on my phone instead. I had been watching a video in which someone baked sourdough bread when Amelia's name appeared on my screen.

"Hey, Ry! How is it going?"

I knew why my best friend was calling. "The 'hour before' check-up, huh?" I didn't blame her though. I had forgotten about the time, for about the millionth time.

"Shit, you caught me. But yeah, we have to be there in an hour. Are you getting ready?"

"Yes, I'm almost done, don't worry," I lied, making my way to the bathroom.

"Are you sure? You're not still in your pyjamas in the hotel room? If I knocked on your door right now, you'd be standing on the other side, dressed up, make-up, hair done?"

I pretended not to hear the annoyance in my best friend's voice while I glimpsed into the hotel bathroom mirror. I was still wearing my pyjamas: An oversized Harry Potter shirt with the crest of my Hogwarts house: Slytherin, of course. Yesterday's eyeliner leaking onto the rest of my eyelids, and my hair a spiky mess.

"Mel, I swear to god. Put a little trust in me, will you?' I jokingly said, " I'm almost done with my make-up." In reality, my make-up bag was still closed and somewhere in my backpack, but Amelia did not need to know that.

"Well, okay then," a knock on the door of my hotel room made my heart beat louder. I came all the way to London to support my best friend at a work event, and I did not want to ruin it. I knew she would be angry if she knew I was running late.

"Is that you?" I exclaimed into the phone, already running back into the hotel room to open up my backpack and grab the first items of clothing I saw, as well as my make-up bag. Better to wear something inappropriate and change while she waited in the room than to open the door in my sleepwear.

"Yes, It's me. Open up!" I could clearly hear Amelia's voice through the door now, too.

"Wait!" I yelled back, racking my brain for an excuse. "Let me properly blend my concealer before it dries!"

Running back to the bathroom, I looked at what clothes I had grabbed. A tight, black, off-the-shoulder top and a pair of fishnet tights. Well, it had to do, for now. I grabbed the pair of leather pants I had been wearing yesterday and threw everything on.

 I was not sure what else I had packed, because when Mel had called me last night, right when I got off work, crying, telling me she broke up with Nora, and needed support at some corporate party, I just threw all the clothes I could find within five minutes into my small backpack and rushed to the train station to catch the last train from Bristol to London. At this point, I did not even know if I had brought enough clean underwear, if any.

"Almost done!" I exclaimed, opening my make-up bag and grabbing a brush, quickly making a sweeping motion on my eyelids to make yesterday's smeared eyeliner look like an intentional smokey eye. Some black shadow left in my brush helped me with that. My lucky moment of the day.

Rushing to the door, I threw my Slytherin shirt on the bed.

"Hey, Mel!" I beamed, still gasping for air after my little sprint.

"Wow, you're actually ready on time? And wow, your hair, I love it!" My best friend's lips curled upwards a slight bit, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

I ran a hand through my short, bleached hair, which had been shoulder length and a lot darker the last time I had seen Mel. "Thank you. But how are you doing?"

The sadness in my best friend's eyes spread. She seemed to collapse, even if it was a tiny bit.

"I don't think I can talk about it yet." She muttered. Her eyes started to glisten. In our twelve years of friendship, I had only seen my best friend cry a handful of times. I carefully wrapped my arms around her, stepping back and closing the hotel room door behind her.

"It's all okay," I whispered, petting her back with my right hand, "I will distract you tonight, okay?"

A nod against my chest and Mel pulled out of the hug, a watery smile appearing on her face. She scanned my outfit. "First order of business, you have to change. We're going to a work event. Loads of corporate types, like old white men in suits."

I looked down at my outfit, then at her, a guilty look on my face, "I did not really bring appropriate clothing, I'm afraid."

She took a second look at my face "Is that yesterday's eyeliner?"

"Shhhhhh!"

***

"For someone who works in marketing, you are very good at fashion," I said a few minutes later. I looked at myself in the mirror, amazed at what Mel had pulled together from my very limited supply of clothes. The black leather pants were paired with a white button-up, which was layered under a black corset top. The only shoes I had brought were the Dr Martens I had been wearing, so that had to do, although they were 'Not very corporate', in Amelia's words.

I rummaged through the front pocket of my backpack and found a few silver rings. "To top it off."

Mel stood next to me, both of us looking in the mirror. We truly were polar opposites. I was slightly taller, with pale skin, short hair, and I wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything that wasn't black or white, while Amelia's dark blue satin dress went amazing with her sleek black hair and skin tone.

"We look hot," I said.

"Well, what can I say," my best friend grinned, striking a pose. "I'm a genius."

"A smoking hot genius. Now, let's have some fun with businesspeople!" I was silent for a second, as we left the hotel room. "Although 'fun' and 'businesspeople' don't belong in the same sentence."

If only I knew beforehand, that 'fun' and the name of someone I would meet that night, would go together perfectly.