Lana looked at her best friend in a way that could only be described as, as.. well, there was no fitting description.
"But.. But you can't wear that! " the incredulity in her voice almost matched the way her eyes were nearly popping out with shock.
Carrie laughed.
"Yes I can, and I will," she slung the black sequin and lace number over her shoulder. "Now stop gawking like a fish out of water and help me find some shoes."
Lana shook her head. At least she tried to talk her out of it. She'd be the one dealing with the buyer's remorse later anyway.
Pulling her denim pants back on, she stared daggers into her reflection in the dressing room mirror. She wiggled her ass back into the semi-tight jeans and cursed herself for not wearing something more appropriate for a shopping trip with Carrie. She knew she'd have to change in and out of about thirty two outfits per store, for Carrie's sake. Seeing as they had almost the same bodily proportions, Carrie liked to force her into the ones she wasn't particularly wild about, but could buy if there were no better ones.
Suddenly she was pulled out of the dressing room.
"Carrie!" she screeched, covering the boob that was still out with one hand and pulling down her shirt with the other.
"Come on Lana," eye roll "you're causing a scene." non-gentle tug of elbow towards the next store.
God help me survive this, she mused.
Very many hours later, the two girls finally collapsed on the bed, brand new designer dresses, shoes, bags, everything, strewn around them. Lana swore never to help her friend shop again. Ever. No matter how much she pleaded. Nothing was worth having dislocated joints.
They launched into a sleepy conversation about the party Carrie was hosting two days away, on Saturday. She was celebrating her divorce.
Lana found it odd to have a glitzy event to mark the end of what started out as very fiery romance, but she figured if you got a seven figure salary monthly, it wasn't awful to splurge every once in a while. Especially if you worked hard for it. Or had others work their clothes off for it.
Carrie owned a strip (and other services) club. Decent line of work, depending on your moral compass.
Lana, on the other hand, was the CEO and founder of an organization that helped young mothers. She felt that there were already charity groups for orphans, HIV/AIDS affected, but nobody ever bothered to give teenage mothers a second chance. She knew that, she'd been there.
"Girl goodnight," Carrie mumbled. She already sensed herself being snatched by sleep, and she had a bad habit of having her secrets tumble out when she was semi-conscious. Lana of course used this to her full advantage, except this time. She was equally spent.
"Okay, night."
Lana forced herself up. No matter how exhausted she was, she couldn't sleep over. It was already evening and she needed to get her tired ass home before her irresponsible nanny left her baby alone. She needed to find a dependable one, and soon. Work was only going to get more stressful.
~~~
She pulled her 2016 Subaru Impreza into the driveway and parked in the garage.
"Magdalene!" she called out for her baby's nanny as she locked the gigantic oak door behind her.
No answer.
"Anyone home?"
Again, silence.
Her heart rate sped up as she swiftly walked up the stairs to her baby's room. Palms sweating, she opened the door.
His soft snores reached her before she saw him. Mason lay under the sheets in his crib, his lips parted in slumber. He looked so peaceful, she didn't want to wake him. She tiptoed over to him anyway.
He looked like his father. A poof of curly brown hair, that mischievous face, those pink tinted lips. A cherub. But the honey brown eyes were hers. She was happy not to be haunted by the piercing green eyes belonging to his father. Mason also inherited her dark skin, though a lot of shades lighter.
She idly wondered where he was, James. It had been four years since she last saw him. She had programmed her brain to quickly brush over the few memories she had of him. That way he felt like the stranger he always had been.
However, every night, he was the one on her mind as she repeatedly drove a different toy into her soaking cavern.
She kissed the child's cheek softly and went downstairs.
The anger she felt towards Magdalene reverberated off her in waves. Such incompetence, she thought, sipping her ice cold mango juice as she calmed herself. I should sue her.
The thought of having her four year old autistic child unattended caused her a lot of worry. What if he got too overstimulated by the heat? Or got a meltdown over the fan's noise? She felt the panic rise and fought it back down.
Magdalene was only a week into the job, and would be fired the next time she dared enter that house. The decision was made.
Then who would take care of Mason while you're away?
Lana bit her lip, thinking. She decided to let the girl stay until her replacement arrived. She was the eighth nanny/domestic manager Lana had had in two months. Hopefully the next one would be more diligent, or at least new and improved.
She ate some leftover chicken, hit the shower, then got ready for bed. She decided to skip the vibrator just for that night and hoped to sleep well. She knew after taking that Wednesday off to work for Carrie, her paperwork would have piled up to the ceiling by the next day.
The sleep took her away immediately she got beneath her queen size comforter.
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