“Em?” Alice opens the door and steps into the darkness of the apartment. “Em, are you home?”

I pull down the chain to turn on the floor lamp. Alice flinches and blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the brightness. She squints at me.

“Looking for me?” I dramatically ask with my best mafia voice.

“What…” Alice’s voice trails off as she scans the apartment.

Right by the door where she’s standing is the open-plan kitchen, and beyond that is the sparse living space, with a small TV in one corner, the old sofa that I’m sitting on, and an Ikea dining set that includes a pine table and four chairs.

When she spots the sushi on the dining table, Alice gasps.

“You got the job?” She raises her hands up to cover her mouth.

Slowly, I pull out the champagne I’ve been hiding behind my back. Her eyes grow big and she quietly stares at me.

“I got the job!” I raise both my arms in the air, the champagne bottle still in my hand. I’ve been suppressing the urge to scream it at the top of my lungs the whole day. And now that Alice is here, I can finally celebrate.

“Oh my God! You got the job!” Alice rushes toward me and pulls me up into a big bear hug. “That is so awesome! Congratulations!”

“I know! I can’t believe it!” I wrap my arms around her and we do a little weird dance of bouncing and skipping in place while we hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” Alice puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me just far enough for her to take a good look at me. She has a big smile on her face. “Really. You’re going to do so well.”

“I know,” I say, raising one eyebrow and grinning at her with mock arrogance. I hold the champagne bottle up to show her. “Since I haven’t quite maxed out my credit card yet, I thought we should celebrate. I also thought sake would go better with the sushi, but I couldn’t find any at the liquor store. And I know nothing about sake anyway.”

“Sushi! Yes! Oh my God!” She turns around to look at the spread on the dining table. “You’re starting a dangerous precedent here, Em. I may just start expecting a sushi dinner after work every night now.”

“Well, I mean, obviously I’m loaded now that I have a job, so that won’t be a problem.”

I grab the bottle opener on the dining table and pop the champagne open. I pour the fizzy liquid into two mugs and offer one to Alice.

“We should get wine glasses next,” I say, raising my mug.

“Cheers.” Alice clinks her mug against mine. She takes a sip, then says, “You know, champagne is supposed to go into a different kind of glass than wine.”

“Seriously?” I raise my eyebrows and take a sip of the champagne.

It tastes good. I bet it tastes just as good from a coffee mug as it would from a champagne glass. Rich people waste money on the most ridiculous things.

“I didn’t know that. I guess it’s going to take some time for me to get used to my newfound wealth,” I say.

“You can take pointers from your rich hotel guests.” Alice laughs and takes a seat. She works as a waitress at an upscale restaurant, and she knows all the complex rules that people call fine dining etiquette.

I pull out the chair across from her and sit down.

“So tell me all about it.” Alice grabs the disposable chopsticks and pulls them apart until they snap. “How was the interview?”

“It went well, obviously.” I pour some soy sauce into a small dish.

“Well, obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “Come on. Tell me how it all went down.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to thank Marco for getting me this interview.” I begin to stand up so I can look for my phone.

“Oh my God, sit your butt back down. Let’s just eat first,” Alice says as she picks up a salmon nigiri. “I’ll text Marco later. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

“Now spill.” Alice takes a bite of the sushi and widens her eyes at me.

“Okay. Wow. Bossy much?” I pick up my chopsticks and start telling her about the interview, starting from my apprehension when I stepped into Cole Foster’s lavish office.

Later that night, with a happy belly full of sushi, I fling my wardrobe doors wide open and sit on the bed, staring at my clothes and thinking about what to wear on Monday.

I wonder if I should shop over the weekend with my credit card, or if I should at least wait for my first paycheck. Either way, I need nicer blouses and shirts. And I should be able to afford it with my salary.

I should watch out for sales at Banana Republic. Or maybe J. Crew. Sometimes I see signs promoting fifty-percent discounts. Maybe those fancy clothes won’t be too expensive if I buy them on sale.

Later that night, I fall asleep to thoughts of elegant blouses in jewel colors and work-appropriate-yet-sexy pencil skirts.