Chapter 5: I Won't Take No

Not that it was good. But if she asked him to give me a job, he would, even if it was in the mailroom.

If all else failed, maybe I’d take my best friend up on the offer, but not yet. I wanted to get a job on my own merits, not because I was Jonathon Bird’s daughter's best friend.

“Thank you," I said, and hugged her. "But I'd rather do this my way."

“Which is why I love you, but you know I won’t hold it against you if you ever change your mind. These days, it’s all about who you know, not what you know.” Birdy snapped her fingers and playfully stuck out her tongue. “You know me, you know the law, and you’re going to be an amazing lawyer. You should already have a damn job.”

“Ugh, thanks for saying so." I swallowed my frustration, not my pride. No more crying, I scolded myself. It wouldn’t solve anything.

Birdy pulled me off the bed. “Shower. Put on a cute outfit and come out with me tonight.” Birdy slid on some black patent leather heels.

“I don’t want to,” I said, sulking, but a drink or five might be just what I needed.

“Yes, you do.” Birdy went to her closet and grabbed a hot pink shirt in the latest fashion with the tags still on it. “Besides, I can’t celebrate without you, and I'm in the mood to party.” She tossed the shirt at me. “Wear this with a short skirt and black heels. You’ll look perfect. I won’t take no for an answer.”

I removed the shirt from my head. “I don’t think Reid would like it if I went to a club without him. Besides, you know I’m not a big fan of the club scene. It isn’t me.” Birdy knew it wasn’t.

We fought about it more than once over the course of our friendship, but Birdy had come to terms with my routine, and I’d come to terms with Birdy’s lavish lifestyle.

“You think I give a rat’s ass what your fiancé thinks? Besides, isn’t he out of town for the weekend?” She went over to her dresser and began putting on jewelry, lots of it, but somehow it looked right on her.

“Yeah, it was a family thing,” I mumbled, pulling the tags off the shirt. I'd already decided to go, even if I was being a whiny bitch about it.

Birdy snorted. “Whatever.” She didn’t like Reid. Never had.

I asked her why many times, but she never gave me a straight answer.

Reid had been vague too, which seemed to be happening more and more lately. I wasn’t sure why and every time I tried to talk to him about it, he told me I was being sensitive, and that everything was fine. Still, something did feel off between us.

“You know how I feel about Reid. He isn’t quite right.”

I frowned. “He’s sweet.” Wasn’t he?

Birdy pushed me out of her bedroom and toward mine. “Yeah, sure.” A strange look crossed her face, one I took to be Birdy’s usual discontent with Reid. If anything, Reid, and Birdy hated each other more now than they had when I first started dating him.

“He’s under a lot of pressure,” I added.

“If you say so, Katie.” Birdy waved me toward my room. “Hurry up and get ready. We’ll eat first. The car will be here in a couple of hours.”

The Infinity club got its start as a dive bar back in the eighties. Located on the top floor of an old warehouse, it had a very urban and cold feel to it. In the beginning, the bar did okay, but didn’t become popular until 2005, after a couple of actors partied there, followed by the discovery of a famous band. Overnight, Infinity became the club, the place to see and be seen.

The space was large, boasting the best drinks in New York. It also had a full kitchen where a renowned chef prepared amazing food until the early hours of the morning.

Each Friday night, the club promoted ladies’ night. Girls got in for half price—unless you were Birdy. Then you always got in free.

Everyone in New York knew Birdy. And if they didn’t know her, they wanted to.

Sometimes going out with her was surreal. Paparazzi would follow her and take her picture. Those photos wound up in entertainment magazines or in the social section of The New York Times at least once a month, usually more often. She had nearly a hundred million social media followers. Businesses asked her to promote their products all the time. Couture fashion designers sent her clothes for free, hoping she would wear one of them and get photographed. Tourists recognized her face and would take her picture, like she was a superstar. They all thought she was. Birdy laughed it off, joking that only in America could a person be famous for nothing. She had money and the Bird name, and that was it.

One would think with all her connections and social status she might be conceited, but she wasn’t. She was one of the most generous people I knew. More than once, I thought about how she became such a sweetheart. Her dad was arrogant, rude, and had dealings with all sorts of sketchy people. Birdy’s mom wasn’t any better. Growing up, she gave Birdy all the wrong kinds of attention, taking her for her first Botox “treatment” at the age of thirteen. Her mom believed she was too good to speak with anyone whose bank account held less than seven figures. She and her friends played tennis on weekdays, slept with the instructors whenever they felt like it, and went to lunch to gossip about it. On the weekends they partied at the Cape or L.A. or wherever was the “it” place of the moment. Hers was a life I didn’t understand.

Thankfully, neither did Birdy.