14 MARENWhen Scarlett insisted we celebrate the fundraiser’s success with drinks, there was only one restaurant suitable for such an occasion. The Signature Room.
The restaurant sits on the ninety-fifth floor of the Hancock Building, overlooking downtown Chicago, the glittering lights of the skyline a stark contrast to the black expanse of Lake Michigan at night. The service is top-rated, and the food and cocktails are out of this world, according to all reviews. In Scarlett’s words, it’s fancy as hell.
A blur of texts ensued, swapping photos of outfit options and landing on logistics. Before long, the plan was finalized. Tonight, Scarlett, Penelope, and I would arrive at eight o’clock in our finest semiformal looks. We’d split the cost of a rideshare service so we could all drink our fi
