In the old building, the trip to the sixth floor took almost three minutes.
“Come on, I’m late,” she whined to the elevator, but there was no hurrying the mid-century technology. Oh well. Things never really got going until an hour or so into Steve’s pajama parties. People had to change into their pjs and get a little buzzed before the serious games started.
It was just that Ruby really needed this party. November and December were the busiest months for the Gold Quartet because of the holidays. Dinners, concerts, corporate parties. The summer bridal season was hectic too, but at least the weather during the summer months wasn’t so bleak. Ugh, and she had Christmas shopping to do, and family visits to shoehorn into her schedule…
She didn’t want to think about that, not now. She was going to drink beer and eat snacks, and enjoy the hell out of this night. Steve’s twice-yearly pajama parties were the highlight of her social calendar…which wasn’t much of a social calendar since she was a musician, and her entire life revolved around traveling and playing with her quartet mates. All the more reason to gather with Steve’s wide and eclectic group of friends in his awesome apartment to drink craft beer, eat snacks, and play inappropriate card games.
Once she got to Steve’s floor, she hurried down the hall and knocked on his door. A moment later, he answered, his wet blond hair standing on end, and a question in his light blue eyes.
“Ruby? Hey.”
“Sorry I’m late.” She sighed. “I missed the connecting train, and the next one was twenty minutes behind schedule.”
“Must be a weather delay. The snow’s really coming down west of the city.”
She looked past him. “Is that why nobody’s here?”
“Rube, it’s Friday. The party’s tomorrow.”
She blinked at him. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Saturday. Didn’t you read the invitation?”
She might have read the invitation. She also might have been so excited about the party that her brain skipped the date one full day ahead.
“Crap. I’m sorry.” Disappointment washed over her. “Damn it, I came all the way over here. I packed my pajamas and everything.”
“And you brought cheese balls.” He eyed the obnoxiously large container.
“You like them, right?”
“Yes, and Fletcher’s is the best brand, so you’d better come in anyway.”
“No, I don’t want to bother you.” She ran her eyes over his dark jeans and ironed shirt, and the jacket thrown over the chair near the door. Steve only looked that put together if he had somewhere to go. “You were about to go out, huh? Drinking and clubbing?”
“I was thinking about it, but the weather sucks and you have snacks, so get in here.”
She was happy she didn’t have to turn around and go home again. Steve was one of her best friends in the world, and a super fun guy to just hang out and chill with.
“Go on then,” he said, taking the vat of cheese balls from her arm. “Go change into your pajamas. We’ll have a pre-pajama-party party.”
“Oh my God, yes.”
She went to his bathroom and took her fleece pants, penguin-emblazoned sleep tee, and fuzzy socks from her backpack. Steve had explained the pajama-party reasoning when he first started giving them: no one worried about social anxiety as much when they were in pajamas, and guys were a lot less obnoxious about trying to pick up girls while they were wearing joggers and old tees.
By the time she came out, Steve was in pajamas too—moose pants and a worn tee shirt with a cello and the words “Well Strung.”
“I love it,” she said, pointing at the slogan.
“A gift from a college girlfriend.” He pumped his brows salaciously. “I usually wear it when I work out, to pick up chicks.”
“Hottie.”
“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
Steve’s couch was a huge, stuffed sectional, the epitome of comfortable. She sprawled along an entire section, stretching out her fuzzy-sock feet.
“I’m sorry I came over on the wrong day, but this is kinda nice,” she said. “I get the place all to myself.”
“Have you had dinner?”
“Yeah, but knock yourself out if you haven’t eaten yet.”
She curled up on his couch and browsed through his streaming services while he called in an order to the pizzeria downstairs. “What do you like on your pizza?” he called.
“I’m not having any.”
“We both know that’s a lie. What do you like on your pizza?”
Steve was the best, the absolute best. “Onions, olives, and green peppers.”
He made a retching sound and said “fuck that” before he put the phone back to his mouth. “Just cheese. Yeah, please deliver it. We’re in our pajamas.”
He hung up as she laughed. “Maybe we can invite the delivery guy to stay and play cards with us.”
“Nah. I’m not sharing these cheese balls.” He screwed the top off the oversized container and peeled away the seal. “I’m fighting the urge to pour this whole thing over my head. Ruby, there’s so many.”