What?A fly could land on my tongue and I wouldn’t be able to close my mouth.With my experience at Blue, I’m a shoo-in for the dealer position at this smaller casino.
An uncomfortably long pause ensues, while I attempt to process his words.“I’m sorry.I don’t understand,” I say.The interview has barely started.I haven’t even had a chance to screw up his questions.What’s going on?
Paul nods, his hands clasped together.The tic near his eye does not bode well.He doesn’t come from the same cold stock as the gaming manager at Blue.This guy can’t hide his discomfort.
“Because you came all this way, I’ll tell you that Human Resources confirmed your employment at Blue, then transferred the call to a manager.The manager didn’t go into specifics but said he would not hire you again.I apologize for the inconvenience, but that’s reason enough for us to eliminate you from consideration.”
“But—but?—”
I was told before I left Blue that the dissolution of my position wouldn’t reflect poorly on me, considering it was an issue of fit, as long as I wrote a letter of resignation.Which I did.
Paul stands and extends his hand.“I wish you the best, Ms.Morgan.”
My legs lift me, slowly and hesitantly as if they, too, can’t believe this.I shake my interviewer’s hand and smooth my navy skirt with trembling fingers.Face burning, I pass the receptionist at the end of the hall and press the elevator button to the bottom floor.
How will I find work if Blue doesn’t give me a decent reference?My other experience, working at a florist shop and as a tutor, won’t help me find a casino job that pays well.I got the position at Blue through a friend of my mom’s.I need the Blue reference as a stepping stone.
The next day, two more casinos call and cancel interviews.The last place asked a couple of questions and told me they’d call after my references had been checked.I haven’t heard back.
A restaurant—I’m getting desperate and have put in a call to a friend of a friend—said the same thing the first hiring manager did.That they spoke to someone at Blue who couldn’t recommend my work.
I didn’t even do anything wrong at Blue.Except piss off Drake.
Is heblackballingme?That would be just excellent.
I have no job, I’m running out of money, and my future is tenuous.Add to that the fact I haven’t heard from my boyfriend in four days, since his baby momma came back into town, and I’m ready to pitch a tent near the ice cream aisle.
I broke down and called Jaeger this afternoon.I told myself I’d wait until he called, but he hasn’t and I couldn’t hold out any longer.Jaeger didn’t answer, so I left a message, but he hasn’t called back.
Am I being dumped?Again?
Four days.Four days since Kate interrupted our date at Tao, and no word from Jaeger.Any normal human being would assume it’s over.I should have learned after Eric, but I can’t wrap my head around it.Everything with Jaeger is different.I strongly suspected it was over with Eric when he didn’t call.With Jaeger, I’m not sure Icanbelieve it’s over until I hear it from him.
I’ve signed up for classes, but I have no way to pay for them.I refuse to mooch off my mom after she spent years financing college.I’m not even sure she could afford to help me now that she has a mortgage.
A crazed desperation drives me these days.
I make my way through my second pint of butter pecan, pondering how insane it is that I might end up attending law school after all.At least at Harvard I have a loan established that will cover living and tuition.All this introspection to end up right where I started?Miserable, but surviving?There’s got to be a better way.
The front door bolt scrapes and the door opens.Gen walks in.It’s after one in the morning and she’s dressed in tight jeans and a slinky tank.Meanwhile, Tyler’s still out with one of his buddies.
I raise an eyebrow.Gen doesn’t just look beautiful tonight, she lookshot.Like, trying to impress a guy hot.
I’m instantly suspicious.How dare she not tell me she’s dating someone?“Where’ve you been?Did you go out on a date?”
For a moment she looks like a teenager slipping in after curfew.She sinks onto the couch, glaring at my ice cream.“How much of that have you eaten this week?”
I study the carton.“Thisweek?”
She lets out a nervous laugh.“Cali…”
“Five pints?”
She pokes my belly.It’s stuffed with slushy goodness.“I think you need to cool it with that.Time for an intervention.”
That’s funny.I’m usually giving Gen interventions about the romance books she’s addicted to—trashy TV I fully support—and her poor taste in men.
My, how things have changed.
