This Better Not Be A Dream

Melody felt it in her gut, that this was the beginning of something great. Her signature on these papers were going to change her life forever. She almost called her parents to share the good news with them, but she figured that wasn't a good idea, especially since her mum wouldn't stop talking about it and I'm no time the whole town would know about it.

She still thinks about home, she's been missing everyone but good thing she met Logan, because right now the only thoughts in her mind was the money. She's never gotten such a huge sum of money in her life before now.

She exhaled slowly, rubbing her palms against her thighs. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay.”

The word didn’t calm her. It never did. But it helped her breathe.

She picked up her phone, she needed to let Logan know she's signed the papers. Hesitating only a second before tapping Logan’s contact. The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hey.”

His voice came through warm, relaxed, unmistakably happy.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly aware of how soft her voice sounded. “Um… I just wanted to let you know that I signed the contract.”

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by a low, satisfied chuckle.

“That was fast, are you sure you read through the contract?”

“I read everything,” she said quickly, as if she needed him to know she hadn’t been careless. “Twice.”

“I figured you would.” He sounded amused. “Thank you for signing.”

“You don't have to thank me, besides you're paying me, so I should be the one saying thank you.”

Another pause, like he was thinking of what to say next.

“So,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, “you free tonight?”

She blinked. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. I was thinking we could go out.”

“Oh. Okay. Where?”

“There’s an art exhibition opening downtown. Private showing. A friend of mine is one of the sponsors.”

Her stomach dipped.

“An… art exhibition?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She pictured minimalist white walls, people in tailored suits holding champagne flutes, women who looked like they were born knowing how to belong in those rooms.

Her throat tightened.

“That sounds… nice,” she said carefully.

“I’ll pick you up later this evening,” Logan continued, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “No rush. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again, girlfriend.”

She laughed, trying not to sound nervous. “Okay.”

“Good.”

The call ended before she could overthink it. Melody lowered the phone slowly.

What do people wear for an art exhibition? She's never been to one before. It's not like she has anything appropriate to wear. 

She walked into the bedroom and opened her suitcase. The same dresses. The same sweaters. The same jeans she’d been rotating since she arrived in New York.

Suddenly all her clothes now look like rags. This was so frustrating, especially since she had no money to get something nice. This was one of those days she wished she had invested in good clothes.

She closed the suitcase and leaned against the bed, dragging a hand down her face.

“I cannot do this,” she muttered.

Her eyes flicked to her phone again, she had only one option.

Tara.

She hesitated. Tara was at work. A double shift. Melody hated interrupting her. But panic crept in anyway, sharp and insistent.

She tapped call, Tara picked up after the third ring.

“Hey,” Tara answered, slightly breathless. “You okay? I had to step out to take this call. Is everything alright?”

Relief flooded Melody so fast it made her dizzy.

“Yeah. Yes. Everything’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said. “What’s going on?”

Melody sighed. “I signed the contract.”

“Oh my God,” Tara gasped. “Girl, are you serious? I’m so happy for you. We’re celebrating when I get home, okay? I don’t care how tired I am.”

“That’s not why I called,” Melody admitted.

There was a pause.

“…Okay,” Tara said slowly. “Now I’m scared.”

Melody winced. “Logan invited me out tonight.”

“Okayyy?”

“To an art gallery exhibition.”

Tara burst out laughing. “And?”

“And I have absolutely nothing to wear,” Melody said. “Nothing. I mean it. Everything I own suddenly looks like I robbed a thrift store during a blackout.”

Tara laughed harder. “You called me because you have nothing to wear?”

“I’m sorry,” Melody rushed. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t want to embarrass him. The people he moves with these are the one percent of the one percent. I don’t want to walk in looking like I wandered off the street.”

Tara exhaled, amusement softening into warmth. “Melody.”

“Yes?”

“You have my wardrobe.”

Melody blinked. “I do?”

“It’s basically ours at this point,” Tara said. “Go through it. Pick whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I mean it.”

Melody smiled, relief spilling through her chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime,” Tara said. “Now I really have to go before they notice I'm gone.”

“Thank you so much, I love you.”

“Love you too. Knock them dead tonight.”

The call ended.

Melody turned toward Tara’s room like it was a lifeline. She went through dresses carefully, reverently, touching fabrics she knew were worth a lot of dollar bills. There were beautiful options, sleek silhouettes, bold cuts. Tara was one to buy the good stuffs.

Two hours passed faster than she expected, she picked out a simple yet elegant black dress, with pearls.

She was in the middle of picking out a shoe, thank goodness she wears the same size of shoes as Tara. Then she heard the doorbell ring. Confusion knitted her brows as she walked toward the front door. She wasn't expecting anyone. She opened it slowly.

A man in a black coat stood there, holding a large shopping bag.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said politely. “I’m one of Mr. Russo’s drivers. I have something for you.”

“For… me?”

“Yes.”

He handed her the bag, she peeked inside and gasped. Her mouth parted. “A dress?”

“The boss asked me to deliver it.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay. Thank you.”

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, her heart pounding like she’d just stolen something.

She didn’t even wait for the lock to click before setting the bag on the couch. Her hands shook as she opened it.

The dress inside was breathtaking. The kind of dress that announces your presence in any room you walk into. She reached for the price tag, her heart nearly stopped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She dropped the tag like it burned. Then she opened the box beneath it.

Shoes. She didn’t check the price. She couldn’t. She already knew. A clutch followed, perfect minimal. Expensive in a way that didn’t need a logo.

Melody sank onto the couch slowly.

This didn’t feel real.

It felt like she was floating. Like if she blinked too hard, she’d wake up back in her old apartment, back in her old life. That was the last thing she wanted, her old life sulked.

She picked up her phone and dialed Logan's number. She was impressed.