I already knewfamily dinner tomorrow night would be one of those things.
Stretching myfingers, I ignored the urge to head to my studio to paint. My mother’s voicestill lingered in the air and I didn’t want to taint my sacred space byinviting her negative energy. I would likely lose some fingers as theysporadically fell off my body thanks to her intense hatred for all thingscreative.
No, instead, Iabandoned my bed and my phone and did the honorable, mature thing. I took ashower and scrubbed all the booze bleeding from my pores.
God, I smelled liketequila.
I blamed Wyatt, theshot master.
When I got out ofthe shower, my phone was alight with notifications. It was like a buzzingChristmas tree. I sprawled on my bed again, wrapped in a towel, my still dryinghair dripping onto my shoulders and the comforter.
I checked all mysocials first, liking the silly pictures from last night that I had been taggedin and smiling at the fun that had been had. Then I switched over to my emails,deleting shopping coupons and car maintenance ads in favor of checking in onwork just to prove my mother wrong.
After responding totwo emails from Henry, one about the Black Soul project and another vague oneabout hearing about an exciting opportunity for me on Monday, I declared mymotherofficiallywrong. I’d takenadvantage of Saturday afternoon and managed to respond to not just one, but twowork emails.Booya.
That’s when Inoticed the email that I should have seen first. I had been so curious to findout what Henry’s “secret project” was, and then ultimately so disappointed todiscover he hadn’t actually told me that I’d skimmed right over email from [email protected].
Now that I lookedat it, there was a string of three of them grouped together on my Gmail app.
The first one read,
Subject: You knowyou want to…
Take the job, Maverick. I’ll make it worth your while.
~EFB
P.S. I promise to stay out of your way.
I pondered what theF could possibly stand for while my stubborn will fought career-obsessedbutterflies in a battle for power.
Francis?
Frederick?
Fitzgerald?
Ferret?
Ezra Fucking Baptiste? I wouldn’t put it past him.
Moving onto thesecond email, I opened it with more trepidation.
Subject: About lastnight.
Molly,
Forgive my late email. I was wired after the party andcouldn’t sleep. The truth is, I’ve looked up your profile on your companywebsite, and while I’m impressed with your work, you’re still green. I’moffering you a job that I believe will build your portfolio and credibility.Working for me will help you land better clients. And, you should know that I’mwilling to pay whatever your fees are. This is a win-win for both of us.
~EFB
One more thought. I see that you are drawn to grey andyellow, but I’d rather not.
Was he serious?
Greyand yellow?!
What did he knowabout design? Nothing! Nada!!! Zilch! He should stick to what he was good at—being an asshole—and leave me andmy favoritethe trending colors alone.
