“With the faith she has, she doesn’t need mine. Now please, go back inside and take a few breaths. And if you decide you still have to make some big dramatic dash downtown to talk to someone you could reach by phone anytime, anywhere, then give it an hour or two. Promise?”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Reeve? Promise?” she asks as I turn away.
I hold up my hands. “I’m going back inside, see? Nothing to worry about.”
She starts to say something, but a car honks next to her, and I take advantage of her distraction and hustle back to the hotel. I skip the elevator and dash up the stairs to Cam’s floor, where I pound on his door. He opens up, half dressed and looking alarmed, then relaxes as he sees the grin on my face.
“Lenni told you, didn’t she?”
“I’m gonna go talk to her, so listen, Cam, I need you to cover for me if I get back late. The press thing is at four, so I should have time, but I don’t know.”
“Pretty sure the reporters are gonna know I’m not Reeve Dalton.”
“Yeah, dude, you don’t have to impersonate me, just figure something out. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.” I dig into my back pocket for my hotel room card. “Here, take my key. You might have to bring me my suit.”
Cam pockets the key but shakes his head. “Come on, don’t risk this. You have to be there. Just wait until tonight to talk to her.”
“You know I can’t do that.” I squeeze his arm and turn for the stairs. “Thanks, man,” I say over my shoulder. “I owe you big. My firstborn son? All yours.”
“Hold up, how am I supposed to cover for you if you’re late?”
“Don’t know, man, sorry. But you’re a genius, you’ll come up with something.”
I take a taxi downtown, which takes forever in Friday-afternoon traffic, then waste time trying to explain to the receptionist at the hotel where the interviews are hosted what room I’m looking for, because I don’t even know what this event is called or who’s hosting it.
I feel every minute that passes, feel it like you can feel walls closing in around you even when they’re not touching you yet. My heart pounds in my ears. Finally, I find the right floor. A woman is taking names and handing out name tag stickers, but she lets me pass quickly when I say I’m here to wait for my friend. I enter a wide, foyer-like room with a table in the center holding a massive vase of flowers, and then I proceed to a smaller room where students sit perched nervously on the edge of the built-in bench lining the walls.
The sight of Jade stops me cold. In the car I had a dramatic and pretty douchey fantasy of me running across the room to stop a sad-looking Jade before she walks into the interview room and makes the biggest mistake of her life. That’s what I get for getting sucked into that stupid rom-com Minnie had on TV last night.
But this isn’t the kind of room you go running across, and Jade isn’t looking sad at all. She’s not broken and hopeless like I feel inside. She looks poised and ready and a little nervous, and even if she’s dressed a bit like Career Girl Barbie, it works for her. I can’t take my eyes off her, and I can’t take another step toward her.
She’s sitting next to Lenni on the bench. She doesn’t see me, instead staring straight ahead, and I know exactly what she’s seeing. She’s far beyond this room and this interview that she’s about to dominate. She’s in Spain doing whatever it is she thinks is going to make her so happy. I know that look because I’ve been there a hundred times, standing on the sidelines just before kickoff but seeing my life far beyond that moment, because imagining it is the only way I know to make it real.
I can’t do this to her.
Stepping back into the first room, I drop into a chair next to the doorway, Jade now out of sight. Every so often a man’s voice calls out someone’s name for an interview, and the two roomsquiet momentarily until a door closes behind the newest interviewee. Minutes tick by, and I wonder what I’m doing. I made it. I got here in time to tell her everything, and now I’m sitting here waiting for her to slip through my fingers.
I put my hands on my thighs to quiet my restless legs. My throat is dry, and the water cooler on the opposite side of the room is calling my name, but I won’t stand up and risk Jade seeing me. I stare at the carpet, counting the tiny overlapping triangles in the blue pattern.
“Jade Kelly,” the man from the other room finally announces. I picture her standing up, tossing her shoulders back, and walking through the doorway with her chin high, like it always is. When I hear the door close, I let out a sigh that feels like defeat and victory. At least I’m a better man than my dad.
I close my eyes and say a silent prayer that she rocks this interview. I pray that Jade’s dream comes true.
By the time I move into the other room, only a few people remain. Lenni’s gone, probably down in the lobby hoping to head me off. Someone’s left a newspaper on the bench so I grab it and proceed to reread the same three lines without absorbing a word before giving up. I ball up my jacket in my hands over and over. Should I be rehearsing what I’ll say when she walks out? Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore. Jade knows what she wants. The right words won’t make or break us.
Finally, she emerges, her face unreadable. I stand up. When her eyes land on me, she stops and the tension in her posture softens.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
I walk over to her.“¿Cómo te fue?” How did it go?
“I don’t know. Good? Maybe?” She shakes her head, then looks at me curiously, like she just figured out who I was. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have your event today?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“Now? Aren’t you supposed to be at some media thing?”
