Cerise Harvey is a twenty-three year old hopeless romantic and over achiever, following closely in the shadows of her father, Michael Harvey- top criminal defense attorney of New York, legacy. With big shoes to fill, she's always gone above and beyo...
Cerise paced back and forth from her dining room to her living room with her MacBook Air in one hand, the other holding a pen which she'd been feverishly gnawing on the tip of as a result of a nervous habit she'd acquired spending so many pain staking hours craming for quizzes and exams growing up— anxiously. Anxious to internalize enough material to answer all questions correctly, for a ninty-nine percent wouldn't be sufficient enough for Mr. Harvey— his little girl had to be perfect.
It was eight in the evening on a Friday, and her night was turning into one much like the ones she used to have in college— alone with her head in a case, studying. Except this time, she was old enough to buy alcohol and she purchased the red wine she'd ended up asking Brandon to try when they had dinner together last week. So now, she had an ever so slight buzz and her focus felt razor sharp as she went over the discovery of Brandon's case.
She'd left the shades open allowing the city lights to help illuminate her condo— preserving the view of the sunset on the skyline just a little longer and being able to admire the vibrant rays of orange and pinks from the comfort of her living room everytime she momentarily glanced up from her laptop screen.
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She was giving main character, sex in the city energy as she ambled around her nine grand a month condo in a long sleeve, satin button up pajamas set with her name embroidered into the breast of each seat— five different colored sets to be exact; a set of pajamas for everyday of the work week gifted to Cerise by her doting mother Velma last Christmas.
It was a genius Christmas gift if you asked Cerise— she was obsessed.
Hearing a heavy knock at the door she perked up, stopping in place and staring at the door with a raised brow before shuffling over to the entrance of her condo in her fluffy pink slippers.
"Who is it!" She shouted confusedly. No one was allowed up with out call-up permission from the front desk and her phone hadn't rang not once— it was at the dining table where she was working at.
Cerise set her laptop down on the kitchen counter before continuing to the door and rising up onto the balls of her feet to look out of the peep hole. She kissed her teeth, rolling her big brown eyes before unlocking the door and opening it just enough to speak.
"Yes Derrick," She said, her tone monotone and flat.
"Yes Derrick?" He repeated with a hasty chuckle as he stared at the crack in the door before pushing his way in anyways.
"How did you even get up here— I didn't get a call," Cerise asked, closing the door behind him.
"Think I've been up here enough for the front desk to know me now," He replied smartly as he loosened his tie, walking deeper into the dwelling of her condo.
"Yea— well I'm going to tell them to stop allowing you up here," She said smartly, placing both hands on her hips.
Derrick looked back at her with a grin, showcasing that smile her friends lectured her about; the one that made dimples on either cheeks appear— Mr.'soontobe'divorced/grocerystorefloralarrangmentguy.
