When a struggling Broadway talent agent reluctantly agrees to represent a male stripper, she finds out there's more to her new client than oiled abs.
Season 1 of Strip in the City
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Today might be the worst day of my life. I just lost my biggest c...
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Sunday brunch with the girls was usually the highlight of my week. Now that we were nearly thirty, brunch had replaced the sloppy, drunken Saturday nights of the past. The ones where we'd go back to our college apartment with some guys we met on the dance floor and have bad-idea sex.
But this morning, after talking about my pitiful finances for the last fifteen minutes, I might've opted for the bad sex.
When DeShauna—one of my best friends from Columbia—heard about my social media disaster and client-less situation, she offered to review my business and personal finances with her lawyer-like precision. She was good with numbers—I was not.
Now, sitting across the table from her and Tanushree at Farm Stand, our favorite brunch spot on Columbus and 73rd, I was prepared to hear her assessment.
"I'm not gonna sugarcoat this, Maren. Your finances are a disaster." Deshauna lifted one of her perfectly waxed brows. "Please remind me why you don't have a business accountant."
"Because—as you can see—" I said, gesturing to the tablet of data she was referencing. There was a whole lot of red on the screen, which even I knew wasn't a good thing. "I can't afford one."
Tan and I ordered a pitcher of mimosas to share while DeShauna sipped a zero-proof mocktail that looked delicious—but altogether too healthy for my current life collapse. From across the table, she gave me a sympathetic smile, then refilled my champagne flute with more alcohol.
DeShauna swept her long dreds back behind her shoulder. "No, what you can't afford is this eight hundred dollar a month parking spot for a car you never drive because you live in Manhattan."
She accentuated the last word as if to suggest a true Manhattanite didn't need a car. Which, was mostly true.
"But—" I started, trying to defend myself.
"But nothing, Maren," DeShauna said matter-of-factly. When she saw the deflated look on my face, her own softened. "I love you, and I know you've gone through a big change over the past year. Having your mom cut the financial umbilical cord hurts, but you can't keep living like Eleanor is still paying for everything. You've got to give up some of these expenses. I recommend starting with the car and the parking spot."
I bit my bottom lip. Unsure. My car was the only thing I owned. Everything else in my life was just rented. Clothes, apartment, workspace, you name it. All of it temporary and none of it truly mine.
"If you get rid of those two things, you'll save fifteen hundred dollars a month," DeShauna added.
Tanushree nodded supportively. "That's a big number."
DeShauna was the kind of brutally honest friend I was lucky to have, but this was too much for me to take in.
Yes, I knew I'd been living beyond my means since my mother fired me, and yes, I'd justified the spending by telling myself it was part of the business investment, but having to confront it on a spreadsheet was a whole new kind of embarrassing.
