She unlocked the door, and, since Nina’s not-very-dependable car sat at the curb, called out.
“It’s me, running late.” She crossed the living room and, as always, thought about how much more open it would be when she took out the wall that blocked off the kitchen.
She had the money for that project earmarked, so maybe in the fall. Maybe before Christmas. Maybe.
“I’m not running late,” Nina called back. “And I’ve got a date!”
Nina always had a date. But then again, Morgan thought, she was gorgeous and vivacious and only worked one job.
She paused at the open bedroom door.
Several outfits—obviously rejects—littered the bed while Nina modeled another in front of a full-length mirror. Her raven-black hair spilled down the back of a red dress that hugged every curve on her tiny body. Dark eyes sparkled as they met Morgan’s in the glass.
“What do you think?”
“I often think I hate you. Okay, where are you going and who are you going with?”
“Sam’s taking me to Fresco’s for dinner.”
“Fancy! Yeah, the red’s a killer.”
Which she envied a little. The only genuine disappointment between the housemates came from the fact that with Morgan’s long, coltish frame and Nina’s petite, curvy one, they couldn’t trade clothes.
“Go for it. Isn’t this nearly three solid weeks of dates exclusively with the hunkified Sam?”
“Almost four.” Nina did a twirl. “So…”
“I’ll be very quiet when I get home.”
“I really like him, Morgan.”
“So do I.”
“No, I mean really.”
“Oh.” Angling her head, Morgan studied her friend. “I already know he’s in serious like and more when it comes to you. It’s all over him. If you’re heading there, I’m giving you the full friend approval.”
After flipping that gorgeous hair, Nina let out one of her dreamy sighs. “Pretty sure I’m already headed there.”
“Full approval. I’ve got to change for work.”
“From work for work. I’ve got to put all this away and clean up this room. I don’t want Sam to think I’m a slob.”
“You’re not a slob.” Chaotic, Morgan thought, but Nina kept her chaos contained to her own space.
Unlike Nina’s cheerful chaos, lavender walls, a vanity top littered with makeup, hair products, and God knew, Morgan’s space was just contained.
She used the third bedroom—closet-size—as an office, so this was sanctuary. Quiet blue walls, some art she’d bought from street artists in Baltimore, the white duvet and pillows, a small but cozy reading chair.
She took off office manager—gray pants, white shirt, navy blue blazer—put on bartender—black pants, black shirt. In the bathroom, she opened the drawer where she kept her makeup organized for easy choices. And changed day to night.
The short, angled cut of her blond hair worked fine for both jobs, but the bartender went for more drama on the eyes, deeper on the lips.
With years of practice, she finished the transition inside twenty minutes.
Since she wouldn’t be eating fancy at Fresco’s, she dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge. She ate standing up, imagining the wall gone, new cabinet doors and hardware, some open shelves, some— “Amiga mia, you need to eat food.”
“Yogurt’s food.”
Nina, now in a robe, put her hands on her hips. “Something that requires a knife and fork, and chewing. You’ve got that long, slim build naturally—bitch—but if you don’t eat, it’ll turn to skinny and gaunt. Seriously, one of us has to learn to cook.” She shot up a coral-tipped finger, then pointed it at Morgan. “I nominate you.”
“Yeah, I’ll take that up in my spare time. Besides, you’re the one with a mother who cooks like a goddess.”
“You’ll come with me for Sunday dinner. Don’t say you’ve got work—your spreadsheets, or whatever. You know Mama and Papa love you. And my brother, Rick, will be there.”
With the yogurt in one, the spoon in the other, Morgan waved her hands as if erasing a board. “I am not dating your brother, no matter how cute he is. That way lies madness. I’m not losing you as a roommate because your brother and I date, have sex, break up.”
Nina held up a gold hoop at one ear, a dangle of three circles at the other. “Which?”
Morgan pointed at the dangles. “Fancier.”