READY OR NOT (CAMREN)

NINE

"Mom?" Lauren said into her phone to no avail. Her mother continued chattering on about the plans for her parents' thirty-seventh anniversary party the following week. Honestly, who throws a party for their thirty-seventh anniversary? Only her parents, who were intent on one-upping anyone and everyone who hadn't managed to stay together as long as they had. The Jauregui's knew how to play societal hardball with the Manhattan elite.

Lauren took a breath and attempted to wait her mother out, but she was a runaway train of party details. "So the guests will begin arriving at seven, so you and your brothers and sister should be here no later than six thirty. Oh, and don't wear anything blue. I plan to wear blue, and the last time Chelsea and I looked like we'd coordinated and it was horrifically embarrassing." Lauren smiled, as she was pretty sure her older sister had done that on purpose. Score one for Chels.

"No blue. Got it. But six thirty is going to be pushing it for me to make it across town already dressed."

"And if you see Margaret Van Cleave, smile, make nice, but don't tell her anything about my appointment at the dentist," she said, emphasizing the word, which Lauren knew was code for the face-lift her father had purchased her mother six months ago.

"I understand. Mom, are you listening to me though? I'll be at the party, but I might be late. I have client meetings booked through the afternoon, and traveling across town in rush hour will add time."

"You'll figure it out," her mother said dismissively. "This is our anniversary we're talking about."

"Right," Lauren said, rounding the corner onto Spring Street. She had a mountain of paperwork at the office to plow through. "Of course." Her mother was a strong-willed woman and had passed on those traits to Lauren, who planned to use them for more noteworthy causes than societal gatherings and keeping the "wrong" people out of their building. "I'll see you next week."

"Remember to smile more at the party. We talked about this."

"Of course, Mom. I'll practice in the mirror."

"Oh! That's a wonderful idea, Lauren. Such a good head on your shoulders. Will you be bringing a date to the party? I need a catering headcount."

"No. Just me."

"Well, that's okay too. Successful women do just fine all alone. Remember that."

She closed her eyes at the backhanded compliment. All alone. That was her, all right. Seemed to be a popular theme lately. "I will remember that. Thanks, Mom."

They said their good-byes, and Lauren clicked off just in time to see a familiar face a few yards ahead on the sidewalk. She'd never encountered Camila in broad daylight, and it was a little surreal running into her on the street now, even if they both lived in the neighborhood. Camila wore ripped denim and a baggy gray sweatshirt. Not how she was used to seeing Camila, but maybe this was her off-the-clock look. She was talking to a couple of guys in front of an electronics store and looking rather serious.

Lauren caught Camila's eye and smiled as she approached. Camila, however, raised a pair of questioning eyebrows at her and paused the conversation. "Something I can help you with?" she asked in seeming annoyance. It caught Lauren off guard, that tone. She'd never witnessed Camila be anything but friendly.

"No. Sorry. Just passing by, thought I'd say hello."

"Great." Camila's eyes followed Lauren's progress, clearly waiting for her to be out of the way so she could resume the conversation with the two rather severe-looking guys. One with enormous muscles. She glanced back at his exposed bicep. Was that a tattoo of Jesus with a baseball bat? An interesting artistic choice.