“We need to celebrate!”
Olivia is bouncing excitedly from one foot to the other.
“How are you not dancing right now?”
Olivia’s enthusiasm is infectious but I have to keep my focus on the glowing screen in front of me. I have a lot to do before I can consider celebrating.
“It’s just an interview. I don’t have the investment yet. And didn’t we just finish celebrating your new modeling contract?” I respond to Olivia without looking at her.
“And I only got that contract because of the website you designed to showcase my range. Come on, Claire!” she smiles.
She drops into a cross-legged position on the floor with an easy grace that I could never hope to achieve, “We need to at least order pizza and crack a bottle of wine.”
I finally raise my eyes to look at her.
Even with her long blonde hair hanging wet and loose around her shiny face, Olivia is still stunning. Ordinarily I might resent her natural beauty and charm but she’s been my rock and my sunshine since high school. Not that I’m unattractive, I guess. My brown hair is lush and just wavy enough to keep it interesting. But I’m more girl-next-door than Olivia’s supermodel looks.
She’s looking at me with those big blue eyes and hopeful smile… and I have no choice but to give in, shutting off my computer
“Alright,” I grin.
I get up and head for my new bedroom, eyeing the boxes still stacked along the wall, “But if we’re having pizza and wine, I need to go to the gym first. I need to test out my new app.”
Her voice recedes behind my closed door but she’s still chatting and making plans when I re-emerge wearing blue workout gear.
I’ve been trying not to get too excited about the interview with reclusive billionaire Kaden Blake but Olivia isn’t making it easy. When I sort out the advice of our college professor, Dr. Henderson, with my new app design and prototype, I had been hoping for some advice, or maybe a nudge in the right direction.
The app needed funding and manpower to develop but no bank was going to lend me the seven figures I needed to get it off the ground. Dr. Henderson had seen the potential in the deceptive simplicity of the design and arranged the interview with his rich and successful alumni, Kaden.
Lucky for me, Kaden Blake’s main offices are in New York because both Olivia and I spent the last of our combined savings on this tiny, shared apartment. And that was on top of the expense of moving to New York from our country town.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Alright,” Olivia chimes at me, grabbing up her sketchbook, “I’m going to go find a park. And I’ll pick up the pizza if you get the wine.”
I agree and make my way down the steps, through the security door and out onto the street.
The second I’m outside I can feel the buzz of energy all around me.
Manhattan is alive and breathing with music, car horns, sirens, and people speaking in a multitude of languages. The street is a sea of multi-colored vehicles, buses and yellow cabs. Across from me is a woman on a balcony two floors up, swearing in Spanish at a man standing on the footpath.
The man is holding up a coat and trousers.
“You know I don’t speak Italian, Carlotta! You want me gone? Fine! Give me my shirt back and I’ll be out of our life forever.”
I stifle a smile and silently wish him luck as I make my way up the street. It takes me a few minutes of dodging and getting shoved to get into the rhythm of moving through the crowd. I’m really not used to being around this many people.
I jump in behind a tall woman with long nails and a wide brimmed hat. She’s cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through butter so I let her lead the way.
Buskers along the sides play versions of folk music, classical, and hip-hop, each bleeding into the next as I make my way through the crowd. With the changing music comes smells from the alternating food stalls - exotic and spicy aromas tantalizing my senses.
This is why I moved to New York.
I turn off onto a side street and hit the doors of Joey’s Workout Spot. It’s relatively new and small when compared to the larger fitness chains but apparently thanks to a range of exclusive workout apps I’d designed, they’re growing in popularity. In exchange for my skills, I get free membership and the royalties just cover my rent. But if I want to eat beyond the next few weeks I’m going to have to think bigger…
I check my phone as I’m stretching and groan.
Two missed calls from Trent. When I broke up with him three months ago I thought he’d be as relieved as I was but apparently not.
We’d met in college and he was pretty much a dream come true. Handsome, charming, smart. Everyone had thought of him as the next Bill Gates - and he still might be - but right now he was just the prick who cheated on me a lot. His last words to me before I walked out of his life still rang in my ears and made me sick to my stomach.
The only way a stupid girl like you is going to make it is if you’re screwing a man who already has.
I exhale sharply and grit my teeth.
He’s gone, Claire. What he says and what he thinks does not matter any more.
I flick to my newest app.
I like to test all my designs in the gym before I hand them over.
This app is called Apocalypse Runner and essentially takes the listener through a range of couch to 5k drills to the sensory backdrop of a post-apocalyptic world full of crazy punks and mad laughing clowns.
After the success of Pirate Rowing and Zombie Cycling as well as Rainforest Hike and Beachside Jog, I have the feeling I know what the market wants.
The market needs something to make them forget that they’re in a gym and makes them feel alive.
****