Everly
“Ladies and gentlemen,we're starting our descent into Manhattan. Please bring your seats and tray tables back into the upright position. The flight crew will be around to collect any trash and help you stow anything necessary as we approach. We’ll be landing in about twenty-five minutes. The local time is six-ten in the morning and if you’re on the right side of the plane, you can take a look out to the horizon and see a beautiful sunrise coming up over the city. Welcome to New York.”
I push back the tears that are threatening to fall over my watery eyes as I take in the beauty of the city. It’s been more than a month now that I’ve been surrounded by the liveliness of this city, and I’m going to blame my sudden emotions on just coming off of a seven-plus hour red-eye flight from Los Angeles. It had nothing to do with thinking about how the sunrise this morning was too close to the mornings Jack and I watched it in each other's arms. Nope, definitely not that. It was absolutely the red-eye.
About an hour later, my Uber finally makes its way into my SoHo neighborhood, and while it doesn’t feel like home, I am happy to be back after a week filled with schmoozing buyers and rubbing elbows with pseudo-celebrities. I’ve given away more of my apparel at this point than sold, but I know how the game is played. If it's going to be worn, then it has to be seen.
I wave to my doorman as I hustle to the elevator, and I just think about how I want to do nothing today other than put on something cozy and sleep. Maybe I’ll figure out food at some point, but I need to sleep. My brain is in a weird haze between a headache and the need to think about everything that still needs to be accomplished this week. I get off the elevator and I’m greeted by the most delicious smell of salty bacon. There’s no way my trust-fund neighbors are cooking at seven-something in the morning on a Sunday.
I walk up to my door and find a brown shopping bag on my welcome mat with a tag that reads:Everly. Nothing else, just my name. I roll my suitcase into my loft and drop my bag on the counter, alongside the bag that’s doused in the magical smell of greasy, crunchy heaven. I might be out of it, but I know I didn’t order breakfast. I abandon everything and drop my jet-lagged body on my bed and send out a text to my brothers.
Everly:Whoever ordered me breakfast this morning gets to come to the model shoot next month. Thank you. Love you, miss you.
Michael:It wasn’t me. But I want in. What are they modeling?
Everly:The usual. Comfortable lingerie. Why are you up? It’s 4:30 a.m. there?
Michael:I’ll book tix. Board meeting prep today and need to get in a workout before. Love you, Ev.
Law:STOP BLOWING UP MY PHONE!
Law:2 EARLY!