*Click*
I hear my neighbor leave and sigh in frustration. Kicking at the crisp white sheets tangled around my legs, I attempt to free myself from their confines. Sitting up in bed, knowing I am not getting back to sleep now, I reach for the room service menu.
“I freaking love room service.” Picking up the phone, I place my order.
“Hi, can I please have an omelet with sausage and fresh tomatoes, a blueberry pancake, and the biggest pot of black coffee you can find?” Thinking I should probably eat some fruit, I add, “Also, some fresh berries or something?” I order them knowing they will sit in their bowl untouched, but my mom would be proud of me for trying.
“Today is a big day, Jules. Big, big day!” I give myself a pep talk on the way to the shower and think of the presentation I’ll be giving in a few short hours. Reaching inside the shower stall, I’m interrupted by a knock at the door, which startles me. I know it can’t be room-service yet, so I grab the big fluffy robe that is at least twice as big as I am and walk to the door.
Checking the peephole, I don’t see anyone, so I crack the door open slightly and stick my head out, looking left, then right. No one is there. Assholes. I’m about to close the door when something catches my eye on the floor.
“What the hell?” Sitting at my feet is a giant, and I mean, probably the biggest Starbucks coffee cup I have ever seen in my life. Thinking it is intended for someone else, I’m about to close the door when a note attached to the cup catches my eye, “Angel.”
Stomping my foot, I growl. “Alright, Charlie. Are you stalking me now? Seriously, get out of here. I know you are here somewhere and let me just tell you something. I will not play games with you. I’ve got my own shit to deal with today, so you can take your coffee and shove it right up your hot as fuck ass. I ordered my own coffee, and the last thing I need is a man-child fucking with me.”
Satisfied, I slam my door. Well, I try to anyway. Freaking hotel doors and their suspension. I press my door with all my weight, and it still only closes with a soft click. “Humph. That’ll teach him.”
Wiping off my hands like I just took out the trash, I go to take my shower.
*Knock*Knock*
“Room-service,” I hear someone call. Luckily, I just finished my shower. Rushing to the door, I swing it open.
“Thanks so much, I’m starving,” I tell the delivery man. Grabbing my wallet, I pull out a five-dollar bill and hand it to him.
“Have a wonderful day, miss.”
“Thank you, you too,” I reply, already plopping down on my bed to eat.
Pulling out my phone, I pull up my kick-ass playlist and am immediately rewarded by Pink’s Raise Your Glass. Stuffing my face with an enormous bite of pancake, I hop up and go to my closet. “I mean, can you really sit still when Pink is blasting? I think not. Okay, what are we going to wear today?”
The beat picks up and I’m dancing around my suite now, stopping every few minutes for another bite. “Who needs the gym when you have Pink?” I laugh to myself. “Singing, dancing, and eating are probably not a good combo, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I have to prepare myself to present in front of four-hundred suits, and I’ll get ready however I please.” Now I am laughing hysterically, thinking about what all those men would say if they saw my pre-game routine. “Raise your glass. Hells yeah, Pink!” I shout, singing every other verse in between bites.
Lanes: Good luck today, Chica! Kick butt!
Julia: Thanks, biatch.
Lanes: Have you started your pre-game routine yet?
Julia: You know it. Just rocked out to Pink. I probably should have done this pre-shower because I’m all sweaty now and have to get dressed.
Lanes: It's all good. Guys give off testosterone or something, right? You give off your strong woman vibes and show all those stuck up suits who's the smartest of them all.
Lanes: What are you wearing today?
Julia: I’m not sure I want to be giving off my sweaty stank, but I get what you were going for ;)
Julia: I’m thinking about the red pantsuit?
Lanes: Ooh yes! That is hot! You’ll own the room for sure! Make sure you match it with the killer black heels I stuck in that bag. And, remember, minimal makeup and jewelry, let the suit do the talking.
Julia: You are so freaking weird.
Lanes: But you love me.
Julia: Always.
Lanes: Good luck, call me later. Luvs.
Julia: Luvs.
Throwing my phone on the bed as Britney Spears’ Circus comes on, I dance with jazz hands and shrug my shoulders, “I’m the circus star, ah huh, ah huh.” I really should work on my dance moves, but my lyrics are on fire. Lanie once told me I dance like a forty-year-old white man to this song, but whatever, I’m good with it.
Placing my hands on my hips, I stare at the closet like snakes will jump out at me. Here goes nothing. Taking the picture Lanie attached to the garment bag, I pull out the pantsuit. She is right, this will look so stinking hot.
Laying it all out on the bed, I can’t help the dance-shrugging happening with my shoulders. Dancing on my toes, I scrunch my nose and dance to the ugliest painting I’ve ever seen. Why do all hotels hang this shit? I lift my shirt over my head and twirl it like a stripper. “Let’s go, Jules. Let me see what you can do. All eyes will be on me at the conference, just like the boss, ah huh, ah huh,” I sing. Catching myself in the floor to ceiling mirror, I laugh. I had better tone it down or everyone in this hotel will know what a shit-show I am.
Thirty minutes later, I have everything on, just as Lanie had instructed. Taking a quick picture, I send it to her.
Julia: Good?
Lanes: Hot! You got this! Have you done your grand finale yet?
Julia: Just about to, I wanted to make sure I had everything right with the clothes first.
Lanes: Perfect. Go get them!
Julia: Luvs.
Lanes. You’re the man ;) Luvs.
Stepping into the torture device Lanie calls shoes, I make my way back to the mirror. Here goes. I have a routine when I have to give presentations like this. It includes a lot of badass female musicians, and I always end with Taylor Swift’s, The Man.
“Alright, Julia. You have this. You know your material better than anyone in this building, and you know that is not an exaggeration. You are smarter, faster, and the queen in the room full of jokers. Don’t let them dictate. Don’t let them talk over you. Never let them talk down to you. Put them in their place when they need it. Take their balls in your hands and crush them! Oh, yeah!” I fist-bump the air for good measure and press play.
“Everything I do shows you I’m the boss,” I sing just before putting my AirPods in. I know I’m probably shout-singing now, but I don’t give a shit. This is my pre-game pep talk, and I’ll do it my way.
Dancing around the room, I collect all my stuff for the day. Once I have it all gathered, I give myself one last glance in the mirror and smile. Lanie can be a pain in my ass, but she knows her stuff. I will slay these meetings.
Opening the door, I’m still singing, “I’m the man, I’m the man, I’m the man,” and I walk right into fucking Charlie.
With one hand, he removes an AirPod.
“Hey!” I screech. “Never, ever touch the AirPods. Especially when I am in pre-game pep talk mode. Do you have no couth? Seriously, Charlie, what the fuck are you doing here? You sent me away last night, I went. End of story. Nice to know you,” I attempt to push my way past him, but he stands firm, putting my AirPod into his own ear.