Everything I Don't Deserve/Post Malone

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The sun was killing me, I flipped the visor down aggressively as I sat in the Dunkin drive thru waiting on the coffee and breakfast sandwiches I had ordered for Edie and I. It was almost 9am and we had finally touched down in Salt Lake from Chicago a little after 4 this morning. I was running on less than 4 hours of actual sleep in my bed and I know this is going to be an extremely long day. I really fucking wished I could get a nap before this party.

I had managed to get a little rest on the flight and somehow slipped past Austin and into a waiting car while he was caught up in conversation with Dre. He might have called my name and I might have ignored him. He could wait until noon like we had planned if he wanted to talk to me.

I had a busy morning ahead of me. Edie had done a fantastic job of getting all the outfits I needed from the incredibly fancy climate controlled, 24/7 security monitored storage facility that holds the literal boxes upon boxes of pristinely preserved suits, jackets, shirts and other clothing that Cathy has made or curated for Austin over the years. Most of his pieces are only worn once, for obvious reasons, and when Cathy... well now me.. get them back they are cleaned, then cataloged and photographed for insurance, carefully placed in air tight, sealed boxes and stored away. Edie had the task of dealing with the insurance company to get permission to move the items, then the chain of command within security and the storage facility to even access the units, then finding exactly what I needed inside the neatly organized spaces. She had everything unpacked and steamed, and ready for me to inspect with a fine tooth comb before they were to be transported in van with their own security team, to his house where Edie and I, plus more of her staff will unload them and stage them around the house on custom made dress forms, before I go through and do a final check of everything before the guests arrive. I have about 10 pieces to get ready. Then tomorrow the task starts again, only backwards. They will be transported back to my shop, I'll inspect each one, spot clean and repair if needed, photograph it again and pack it back into its specific box, seal it, load it into a car, personally escort them with the security team, back to the storage unit and back into their awaiting spaces. It was mentally exhausting to just run through it in my head... not even thinking about getting Austin ready, Rin ready and myself. At least I'm just in charge of dressing us. Thank god for Marine's hair and makeup skills.

I was still on edge and I will be this entire party. Just waiting on someone to spill or touch with dirty fingers, and if that someone is Austin I swear I will lose my mind. This entire event was a huge deal for me. I was in charge of getting all this done, and it had to be done flawlessly. There was no way I would let Cathy down tonight. And I needed to prove I could handle the chaos. It wasn't dressing him for a red carpet event, something I haven't done yet, but it was just as important in my eyes, maybe more so.

The line inched forward in the drive through and I tapped my finger on the wheel impatiently. As much as I hated it, the look on Austin's face when I had jerked away from him last night was burned into my memory. He looked genuinely hurt that I was so angry with him, but even when I woke up this morning I still have zero intention of even entertaining the idea of accepting an apology from him, as childish as that might seem. I was just so tired of the endless loop, no matter how many times he 'really means' an apology, the behavior never changes.

I just really really need for him to keep his shit together. I have no desire to be in his social bubble at all tonight, and staying out of his way will hopefully be easy. This party was for Cathy and I planned on keeping myself on the sidelines as much as possible.

I gave the guy working the window a thanks as I pulled out of the driveway and downed a too quick gulp of too hot coffee, I needed the caffeine too much to care. The shop was only a couple blocks away thankfully.

My girl, my baby... The Reverie. She was my pride and joy. I really hated to sell her but I knew Edie would keep her thriving, keep my vision and keep me employed if push came to shove. I had lucked out finding the space, threw my college savings into a down payment and scraped and salvaged her into what she is today. Funky painted brick with murals on every available surface, a hot spot in the summer for photo shoots. I tried to keep the vintage vibe in as much as of her as possible, from the light fixtures to the sitting areas. We had everything from 50's cocktail dresses, to 70's leisure suits, 90's grunge band tees and 00's Juicy Couture. Edie had just started an entire section dedicated to her new found love for the "mob wife" aesthetic, and damn if she she's not making a killing off it. We had shoes, from sneakers to vintage YSL heels. An entire wall length rack of nothing but hand curated vintage tee shirts... hats, bags, jewelry.. she really had everything. Some days I felt more at home here than I did in my own living room.