“Please.”
Taking the ball from her husband, I turn it over and over in my hands as I stare at it.
I don’t recall the exchanges of good-byes. I only take my next breath when I hear the door close behind them as they exit, remembering the sound of Sabrina’s giggle as her mother tickles her belly on the way out.
I turn to see Carter standing there.
The expression on his face says it all.
I use the pointer finger and thumb of my free hand to wipe the tears out of my eyes. “Who the fuck is cutting onions in this place?” I say.
Carter pats me on the back. “I sure fucking hope it isn’t Don. He can’t cook for shit.”
A snort pushes through my lips.
“Pizza’s on its way. I’m headed to the kitchen. You coming?”
I stare at the ball in my hand. “Yeah, in a minute. I’m gonna put this in my locker.” I hold the ball up for him to see.
He nods.
When I reach my locker, I place the ball on the top shelf, next to the photos I have of me with some guys from Station Two, and from the day I graduated from the academy, and of course, Jackson’s obituary. The most prominent picture in my possession isn’t in my locker. It’s taped to the inside of my helmet. It’s one of Janine and I on our final day in Mexico. My favorite picture of us.
After shutting my locker, I head down the stairs toward the kitchen, following the smell of the just delivered pizza.
Chapter Twenty
Janine
I step off the elevator with my head held high and the high heels I wear creating a rhythm against the floor as I stroll toward the door of Lux Advertising.
As soon as the door swings open, Shelah’s eyes widen. “Good morning. Loving the pink on you.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“The outfits your friend helped you pick out are really working for you.”
I give her a little spin and dip to show off the entirety of my outfit. It’s simple, yet the soft pink, high-rise pants paired with the tucked in cream-colored turtleneck really does look great on me. I found myself staring in my full length mirror for some time this morning, marveling at it.
“The things a personal stylist can do for you.” The day Angela and I went shopping, we stopped at one of Angela’s favorite thrift stores. The stylist who works there part-time gave me some great tips on how to dress right for my body type. She also convinced me that color could be professional, and that the no white after Labor Day thing is outdated.
“I loved those leopard print heels you wore last week,” Shelah adds.
“Those are one of my faves.” It took me four full days to muster up the courage to wear those shoes and when I did, I never wanted to take them off.
I spend a few more minutes talking with Shelah before I hear the door open behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Zeke walk in—he looks just as displeased to see me as I am to see him. I don’t hide the eyeroll I toss him.
I turn back to Shelah. “Time to get the day started. Let’s have lunch together.”
“Sure thing. That little shop across the street has some good sandwiches.”
“Sounds good.”
I head back to my desk feeling more confident than I ever remember feeling. The new clothes are part of it, along with the fact that Danny has given me a couple of compliments over the last couple of weeks on some small projects he has me working on by myself. Zeke and I still aren’t getting on great, but to hell with him. After my talk with Emanuel, that night at his station, I feel like I can walk on water. He reminded me that I did have the talent and intelligence to make it in this career. Obviously, my idea had been a good one, otherwise Zeke wouldn’t have felt the need to steal it, and Danny wouldn’t have loved it. I can come up with more ideas. That wasn’t a one off. Zeke could steal one and claim it as his, but he didn’t have my intellect, creativity, or savvy. Those, he could never take from me.
“Good morning, Zeke,” I greet him as I arrive at my desk and place my purse inside of the bottom drawer. I ignore the fact that he doesn’t respond. “I hear we’re meeting with Digita again today. That’s great news because there are some issues that we need to go over.”
“The campaign’s fine.”
