The Wedding Date

Chapter 1 - Plotting Over Pasta

Someone brought fish for lunch. Again. The putrid smell is seemingly embedded in every wall of our ninth floor office space. I rush around, throwing open the windows in hopes of eliminating the smell of leftover tuna from my nostrils.

"Roberta brought a tuna melt and accidentally hit the popcorn button on the microwave."

I turn back from the fresh air to watch as Diana walks in waving the stack of folders in her hand like a fan.

"Ugh, honestly. When will she accept that she needs to wear her glasses?" I groan and pull out the bottle of perfume rolling around my purse. I spray the air around me until I'm enveloped in a citrus blossom haze, but the tuna somehow still lingers.

"Same day she finally accepts that low waisted jeans will never make a comeback," Diana laughs, holding out a manila folder. "I got those numbers you asked for from the back to school campaign."

I take the folder from her hands. I flick through before nodding, tossing the folder onto the cluttered surface of my desk.

"What'cha say to the idea of us ditching this fish factory and going to grab some lunch uptown?" I ask as I grab my jacket from the chair in anticipation of a yes.

"Absolutely. Ramero's?"

I grin at the mention of my favorite Italian restaurant. "Pasta is, in fact, my love language."

In the elevator, I adjust the belt on my jacket as I slide my hands into my pale pink gloves. The door opens again and Gina from the floor below ours steps in.

Diana and I exchange hellos with her as we shuffle to make room in the cramped space.

"I really like that new hair color on you, where did you get it done?" Gina looks at me over her round glasses.

I twirl a strand of my recently dyed hair around my finger, "Thanks! I went to see Flo at Salon 97. It's over on Endicott Street. She said that I had the complexion for this shade of brown. Whatever that means."

We say goodbye in the lobby as Diana and I make our way towards the East side of downtown. The air is chilly but it still makes for a nice walk.

"I really need to get inserts for these. I can already feel a blister forming as we speak."

I glance down at her new purple heels. "They are cute though, so it's worth it."

Six blocks from our office, we walk into Ramero's. I've been coming here since I was a child; it was the only Italian restaurant in this part of the city back then.

"Ooo, looks like we've run into The Rat Pack." Diana snickers as she nods her head towards the bar.

I glance over to see a group of men from our company. Three marketing guys huddle around Leon Edwards, the stand-in CEO. He leans against the bar with his hand wrapped tightly around the rocks glass.

"What on Earth is Leon wearing? You know, this is how we can tell he's single; no significant other in their right mind would let him out of the house wearing that tie with that suit." I shake my head as I pick up the menu and scan the items. Of course, I'm going to get my usual, but it's always nice to read the fancy descriptions.

"Honestly, you'd think with all of Daddy's money he would hire a stylist," Diana laughs as she adjusts the headband holding back her bangs.

"I'm telling you, Leon's not one of those guys. You weren't here when I first got hired. He was a completely different guy when he worked on the floor with the rest of us. He was still a hot head, sure, but he was also such a goofball. Always good for a joke." I defend the man who had once been a good friend of mine. We had drifted apart in the year since he stepped in for his father.