Chasing Dreams

Ivy Ryan nervously sat in the office of Style magazine. She was waiting to be interviewed for the new assistant position. She adjusted the skirt of her pink floral dress. Her heart pounded in her chest thinking at any moment. Her dream of working here could come true or it could be shattered into a million pieces. “You can go in now,” the girl who was about her age said from behind the desk she was sitting at. Ivy took a deep breath standing up. Each step she took was one step closer to getting everything she wanted. Or it was one step closer to everything falling apart. I can do this, she told herself, standing outside Mrs. Cameron’s door. Squaring her shoulders, Ivy knocked on the door. Nervously waiting to be told to come in. Without even looking up from her desk, when Ivy walked in. Mrs. Cameron asked, “Do you have a resume?” Ivy felt heat rush to her cheeks as she stood frozen, rooted to the plush carpet beneath her feet. Her only job was the bartender at the Ramblin’ Rose back in Snow’s Corner, Missouri. She didn’t even remember seeing anything on the f*******: post about needing a resume. “Well---do you?” Mrs. Cameron asked, finally looking up at Ivy over the rim of her glasses. Her gray eyes showing no compassion. “N…No,” Ivy finally managed to spudder out, lowering her head looking down at the floor. Mrs. Cameron’s eyes swept over Ivy with clinical precision. Ivy’s idol voice was cold as ice as she said, “If you want to work at Style, you will need more than wide eyes and a trembling voice.” Ivy stumbled out, the glass door closing behind her with a final, echoing click. She blinked hard, willing herself not to cry. Her dream were shattered with a harsh reality. Finally on shaking legs Ivy headed for the elevator. Each step she took felt heavier than the last, as if disappointment had taken physical form and wrapped itself around her feet. When the elevator doors opened with a soft chime, Ivy stepped inside, her reflection wavering in the polished metal. She pressed the button for the ground floor, her mind spinning with a storm of regret and self-doubt. “What am I going to do?” she cried, leaning back against the lacquer walls, slowly slipping down to the granite floors. It had taken every penny she earned at the Ramblin’ Rose to make the move to Chicago. She closed her eyes letting the tears fall knowing the whole reason she moved here was now gone. She had no idea what she was going to do now. The only thing she ever wanted was to leave Snow’s Corner and work at Style. Suddenly the small box felt like it was even smaller. It felt like someone was sucking the air out of the elevator. Her chest tightened, her breathing was shallow. She gripped the rails hoping to steady herself, when she began to feel lightheaded. Her vision was blurry trying to see the numbers on the panel. The elevator was nowhere near the lobby. As the elevator continued its slow descent, the fluorescent lights hummed above her, casting sterile rectangles on the walls. Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the panic that crept up her throat. She forced herself to take a deep breath, but the air felt thick, unyielding. Panic surged through Ivy. Oh, God, she thought, I’m going to die here. She tried telling herself everything would be okay, watching the numbers slowly descend downwards. But every breath she took was more painful than the one before. Ivy buried her face in her knees hoping that it would help feeling like the elevator was spinning. It didn’t she felt like she was on carnival ride at the county fair. The sound of a smooth velvety voice asking, “Are you alright?” caused Ivy’s head to pop up. Ivy panicked filled eyes stared into smoldering dark brown eyes filled with concern. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to speak. But short pants made it difficult to form a sentence. The gorgeous man with the dark brown hair almost the color of black, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His voice was a gentle balm, calm and steady. “Just breathe,” he murmured, his eyes steady on hers. “Stay with me. Focus right here.” Ivy focused on the kind stranger. His soothing, reassuring words helped calmed her down. She could feel herself slowly taking normal breaths. Thankfully, the elevator wasn’t spinning anymore, as well. She slowly nodded her head when he asked, “Better?” “T…Thank you,” Ivy said gratefully, when he helped her to her feet. “I…I don’t know what happened,” she mumbled, her gaze wandering to the floor. “I think you were hyperventilating,” he reassured her. “It happens all the time on elevators,” he added, lifting her chin so she was looking up at him. Ivy could tell by the dark navy blue pinstripe suit that he was someone important. He was the kind of a man a girl like her could never have. “Thank you again,” she whispered, lowering her eyes towards the floor. “I’m sure you have better things to do.” The elevator door opened they were on the main floor. Ivy took the opportunity when a crowd of people stepped on to slip out the door. She pushed her way through the crowded lobby when she heard him yelling, “Wait up!” Ivy stepped out onto the bustling downtown Chicago street. The disappointment from just a few minutes before was slowly vanishing, as she walked down the street, listening to city noise. It fueled her desire for the dream of a better life here and away from Snow’s Corner. She didn’t know how she was going to do it. But somehow someway she would have the life she dreamt of. She did know one thing, she was never going back to Snow’s Corner. Chicago was her home now. Even if it meant living on the streets. Her life was here now. The sun had long set over the Windy City. Ivy was sitting on her sofa with her laptop in her tiny one-bedroom apartment. She was searching for jobs so she could stay in the apartment she so foolish rented thinking she would get the job at Style. The second she saw it on Craigslist, she packed everything she owned into a U-Haul and never looked back. It took a lot of convincing on her part to let the landlord rent this apartment. When she didn’t already have a job. Luckily, she had the full rent and money for last months rent. That and the money she spent for the moving van. All the money she had saved went fast. She looked around her apartment. It wasn’t much but it was hers at least for the next month anyway. There were boxes that were still unpacked, a part of her wanted to unpack them. Another part told her if she didn’t find a job it wouldn’t matter anyway. The window in the living room was lifted just enough to let the sounds from the street below to drift up. Ivy set her old laptop down on her beat-up sofa making her way to the window. She lifted the window higher, climbing out onto the small fire escape. I’m here. I did it. She closed her eyes realizing her dream of working at Style might have come true. But the dream of living in Chicago was very much real. The possibilities for the life she dreamt of were endless. All she had to do was go out and find it. “Mm,” Vincent Barron chuckled, sitting the back of his limo. The woman he just picked up at the bar dropped down to her knees. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the leather seat. A shuddered ripped through his body feeling his zipper being lowered. “Ah,” he groaned, her manicured nails stroking his semi-hard erection. “That’s it baby,” he urged, feeling her lips circling around his now very hard length. His hips began to buck listening to the popping sounds she made as she slowly began to suck. The image of raven-haired beauty with soft pink pillowy lips flashed before his eyes. “What the__?” he gasped, his eyes opening to see a red-haired woman between his legs. “Who?” His breath coming out in a short pant. He tried comprehending who the woman was, but the woman sucking him off was making it difficult to think. “Stop!” he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Pull over!” he yelled to Bones his driver, reaching for the door when the door when the car stopped. “Get out,” he said, shoving the confused woman out of the car. “Drive!” he yelled, slamming the door on the woman who was now yelling curse words at him. Vincent didn’t care he wanted to what the hell just happened. The image of another woman popping in his head while another one was pleasuring him, never happened before. He shut his eyes thinking that maybe whoever it was would pop back into his head, nothing happened. “What the__?” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, trying to make sense of what was going on. Traffic flickered by as the limo rolled back into motion, neon lights painting restless shapes across Vincent’s reflection in the tinted glass. He pressed two fingers to his temple, as if the pressure would somehow conjure clarity out of the fog swirling in his mind. The city stretched out before him, glittering and indifferent, its avenues full of strangers and ghosts. He reached for his phone, thumbing through recent calls and messages, seeking distraction, but the image of those soft pink lips haunted every corner of his consciousness. His driver, Bones, risked a glance in the rearview, catching the hardened twist in Vincent’s jaw. “You good, boss?” he ventured, voice gravelly. Vincent exhaled, a slow measured breath. “Just drive, Bones.” Back at his Gold Coast penthouse Vincent stood staring out the window, not really seeing anything. What happened in his limo had shaken him to his core. He poured himself a drink—bourbon, neat, the familiar burn grounding him for a moment. The city’s pulse thrummed below, but in his penthouse high above the streets, Vincent felt untethered, adrift in his own thoughts. He stared at his reflection in the glass, watching the faint tremor in his hand as he brought the tumbler to his lips. He made a vow to himself he was going to find out who the raven-haired beauty with the soft pink pillowy lips was. He didn’t care if he had to turn the city upside down to do it. She was out there somewhere. He wasn’t going to stop until he found her. Ivy knew she wasn’t Snow’s Corner anymore, as she and her co-workers set up for the party. She had gotten a job as a bartender at fancy catering company called Divine Catering. It wasn’t her dream job but for now it paid the bills. This was one of the times being a bartender paid off. The party was being held in a mansion in a sky. At least to Ivy if felt that way the penthouse was nothing like she had ever seen before in her life. Every time she took a step she walked on her tippy toes because she was afraid her heel would scratch the polished hardwood floors. She was a little nervous about the kind of drinks she would be asked to make. Beer in a can and beer on tap were the only drinks that were served at the Ramblin’ Rose. There were the few customers that would occasionally order whiskey or Tequilla. But these fancy drinks that city folks drank were out of her league. She did look online how to make a martini she knew from watching s*x and the City that women drank those. While setting up the bar Ivy did her best to memorize the different kinds of wines that were being served. She knew some people just only drank that. Taking a deep breath Ivy told herself she could do this. As the party started, people begin ordering drinks. She was grateful that another bartender was helping. People were ordering so fast it was hard to keep up with what they wanted. The crowd thickened, all sparkling gowns and crisp tuxedos, laughter and the clink of glass rising in the air like a symphony of money and mischief. Ivy’s hands moved instinctively now—twisting bottle caps, slicing citrus, shaking up icy concoctions. Sweat beaded at her hairline as she tried to keep pace, her accent slipping out when she called, “Next in line, please!” and a few guests smirked at her small-town drawl. Between mixing drinks and sliding glasses across the marble bar, Ivy caught glimpses of the party’s glittering guests. Power players and socialites mingled beneath the golden chandeliers. She felt invisible behind the bar, yet oddly exposed, as if everyone could see right through her borrowed confidence. A woman with diamonds at her throat ordered a French 75, her voice as cool as the lemon twist Ivy managed to drop into the wrong glass. “What are you doing?” the woman asked. “I…I…don’t know how to make it,” Ivy stuttered, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Then how did you even get a job as a bartender?” she mocked, her eyes roaming over Ivy. Ivy’s hand began to tremble, she could feel the stares of everyone in the room. The glass in her hand fell to the hardwood floor shattering into a million pieces just like Ivy’s confidence. “You know that is coming out of your paycheck!” the other bartender yelled at her. She could hear the snickers of the other servers behind her. Ivy knew if she ran, she would probably loose this job. But as she bolted for the door she didn’t care. She burst out into the cool hallway, taking her heels off as she ran for the elevator. Never before in her life as she ever been so humiliated. Waiting for the elevator doors to open, all Ivy wanted to do was crawl into her bed and disappear. She knew she should probably go back and suck it up, but she couldn’t do it. That was a world she would never fit into. She was glad that the elevator doors finally opened. “Holy s**t!” she exclaimed when she stepped on and saw a man down on his knees and a woman who’s dress was pulled up to her neck. “My bad,” Ivy said, pressing her eyes shut stepping off the elevator backwards. “I’ll wait for the next one,” she said, turning her back. Thinking that she was all alone, Ivy let the tears fall. She slowly turned when she heard a familiar velvety voice saying, “It’s you.” “I’ve missed you, Vincent, darlin’,” Elle Carson purred. “It has been a while,” Vincent murmured against her neck. Elle was one of his occasional f**k buddy’s. She was rich, spoiled and her father was one of his biggest clients at his law firm Barron Law. Her high-pitched voice was annoying, but she was great in bed. Vincent trailed kisses on her bare that open cutouts of the black latex dress revealed. He slowly shimmed it up, dropping down to his knees. “Vincent,” Elle moaned, her expensive manicured nails tangling in his hair. He was finally starting to feel like himself again after that night. A low growl erupted from his lips as Elle thrusted her hips further into his face, when his tongue flicked across her lick. Just as he took it into her mouth and began to suck. The sound of a woman yelling caught his attention. Vincent turned to see a raven-haired beauty with soft pink pillowy lips. It was her the woman who he imagined that night. The way her eyes were closed she looked vaguely familiar. He quickly jumped to his feet, slipping out before the elevators doors shut. Leaving Elle screaming she hated him. He stood there watching her shoulders tremble. He knew she must be crying. “It’s you,” he heard himself saying. Vincent started to recognize her when she slowly turned around. Scared, innocent tear-filled chestnut eyes stared at him. It was the girl from the elevator the one who was hyperventilating. “Hey,” he whispered, thumb instinctively reaching out to wipe her tears away. “You’re friend is waiting for you,” she said, turning to head for the stairs. Vincent stood there for a second watching her disappear around the corner. “Wait!” he yelled, chasing after her. He was now determined to find out why it was her. When he round the corner, he saw her slipping into the stairwell. He heard the sob echoing of the concrete walls the minute he opened the door. He felt something inside him stirring when he saw her sitting down curled up into a ball. Without hesitation Vincent walked towards her sitting down on the step just above her. “I’m fine,” she said, looking up when she heard his footsteps on the concrete floor. She wiped her tears with the sleeves of her white shirt. “Those tears say otherwise,” he stated, lifting her chin, when she looked down at the black skirt she was wearing. She must be one of the servers from the catering company his neighbor hired. He knew they were having a party tonight. “Wanna tell me about it?” he heard himself asking. “I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me,” she said, getting up taking a step down. He couldn’t help smile remembering that day in the elevator. She had something very similar to what she just said now. “I’m Vincent by the way.” He was curious to know who she was. Vincent watched her hesitate for a second. He could see the wheels in her head debating if she should introduce herself or not. “I…Ivy,” she finally said. “Nice to meet you, Ivy,” he said, a big grin spreading across his face. “N…Nice to meet you,” she whispered, looking down at the stairs. “I…I should get going.” “If I were you, I wouldn’t take the stairs,” he offered. “We’re on the 30th floor. It’s a long walk down those stairs.” “O…Okay.” “Why don’t I walk with you back to the elevator,” Vincent offered, standing up, taking a step towards the door. She didn’t speak, she just nodded her head, following behind him. Stepping out into the hallway they could hear voices coming from around the corner. Vincent rolled his eyes when he heard Elle’s high-pitched yells. “What?” Vincent asked when she stopped. The tears began rolling down her cheeks once again. “I’m so fired,” she confessed. Her bottom lip quivering while she spoke. “I got the drinks wrong. I broke a glass. I’m so going to be sleeping on the streets,” she rambled. “You’re not from here, are you?” Vincent asked. Things were starting to make a little more sense. She shook her head while wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Come on,” Vincent said, offering his hand out to her. “If you want to survive here. You have to own up to your mistakes. If you don’t this city will eat you alive.” She reluctantly took his hands, following him to where the crowd of people were gathered. He watched her square her shoulder when he let of her hand. Before she could say a word Elle’s high-pitched voice rang out. “You left me in the elevator for the help!” she screeched. “No one rejects Elle Carson and gets away with it.” She turned to the owner of Divine Catering and demanded. “I want Little Miss Nobody fired.” “Don’t worry Ms. Carson. She is fired,” the owner coldly said. “Ivy go back to the office and turn in your uniform,” she said. Vincent watched as Ivy nodded her head tears filling her chestnut eyes. She didn’t even look up at him when she stepped onto the elevator. On the walk back to his own apartment, he felt partially to blame for her getting fired. If he hadn’t gone after her, she wouldn’t have gotten fired. He knew the owner of the catering company. If Elle hadn’t been there, she would have given her a chance to explain what happened. But Elle had enough rank in society to make sure she never got another job in this city. Stepping into the shower, Vincent knew what he had to do. Tomorrow, he would call the owner of the company to see if he could get Ivy her job back. It was the least he could do. After all it was partially his fault she got fired.