“I won’t say no. Thanks.” She went to the kitchen, and I jumped up and took the phone to my room. My poor, old destroyed device sat on top of a stack of two books and a box of Kleenex on my bedside table. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks with some chunks missing, and a dent scarred the side of the phone—luckily it was the opposite side to the little door containing my SIM. I took it out. It was thankfully undamaged.
My stomach muscles tensed as I put the chip in the new phone and turned it on. Would it work? Would I have any job offers?
I wandered back into the living room and sat next to Amy on the couch. She held out the wine bottle and a half-full wineglass, waving them, asking me to choose. I chuckled. “Decisions, decisions.” I hovered my hand from one to the other. “The bottle is tempting, but my sobriety is all I have left.”
She raised a brow. “Are you sure? No judgment here.” She winked.
I picked the glass and took a sip. “Mmm, this is good. It’ll go well with the crippling-guilt grilled chicken and need-to-feel-useful roast potatoes I’m cooking tonight.” In lieu of rent, I paid for three-quarters of the groceries and cooked dinner. It was a fight to pay for anything, but I’d argued that I wouldn’t stay here if I didn’t contribute something, even if it wasn’t much. Amy had relented to me paying for half of her share of food. Argh, how was I still a charity case at twenty-eight? Disappointment in myself was a heavy stone in my gut. Would I still be asking for help when I was forty, fifty? Why was I so pathetic?
Amy waved a hand in front of my face. “Hey, stop spiraling. So,back to the wine. Chase recommended it. He’s done well.” Chase was her musician cousin. They were pretty close, even though he lived in LA. And yes, she was a good at changing the subject. “So, any messages?”
My stomach twisted in anticipation as I unlocked the phone and went in. If the SIM didn’t work or there were no job offers, maybe I’d swap to the bottle.
My contacts came up. Yay that my SIM was okay. Some of the tension seeped out of my shoulders until all the dinging started. “Argh, Mom’s sent me six texts, and there’s four voice messages.” I frowned. “Hmm, there’s a voice message from a number I don’t know.”
Amy leaned forward to look at my cell screen. “Ooh, I wonder which place it is. Would be great if you ended up at Sushi Baby. That’s my favorite.”
“I know. That’s one reason I applied there. Discounted sushi for the win!”
“Which place do you hope it is?”
“Any of them, to be honest…. Well, except for Café Nero because I don’t know if I could walk back in there after what happened.” I sighed. “I really need to be putting back into my meager savings, not taking out. I’m thinking of applying to biohazard cleaning jobs soon. It’s good exercise and shift work, so I’d have time for any freelance marketing stuff that comes in. The pay can be quite good.”
Horror crossed her face. “Biohazard cleaning? Do you really want to clean up murder scenes or hoarder’s nests? The stench.” She held her nose and gagged. “Are times really that desperate?”
I smiled at her dramatics and at the fact we both knew I had a massive gag reflex. I was bad at dealing with vomit, poo, and even brushing my teeth. She had to listen to my heaving noises every morning and evening. Cleaning my back molars was a bitch. “Yes, Amy. Yes, they are. I’m twenty-eight and almost in the prime of myworking life, but I’m earning zilch. Zero. Naught. Null. Zip. Noth?—”
She held her hand up. “I get the point, Ms. Thesaurus. Still….” She shuddered.
“Anyway, why don’t we play this message and see who it is. I’d say let’s have a bet, but all I can offer is my body, and Ernie has dibs on yours.” Ernie was her on-again, off-again boyfriend. They were currently on.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a threesome.” She waggled her brows and laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh too. Ernie was the epitome of conservative and shy. If we’d said any of this in front of him, he would’ve turned beet red and melted into the back of the couch.
I hovered my finger over the Play-Message button. Holding my breath, I pressed Play. “Hello, Faith. My name is Stephanie D’Angelo. I got your number from the résumé you handed in at Café Nero. Please call me between nine and five. I have a possible job offer.” She rattled off her number, politely said goodbye, and hung up.
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God. That’s Curtis Knight’s aunt.” I’d googled the company when I got home last night, and not because I wanted to stare at Curtis’s face some more. Mmmhmm.
Her amber eyes widened. “Holy moly! You might get a job in marketing again. This is wonderful, Faith. And the pay will be so much better than serving tables. This will look so great on your résumé.” She grinned. “You’ll get to see the gorgeous man himself again too. I see no downsides.”
Did I dare let myself hope? I worried at my bottom lip with my teeth, Amanda’s words when she fired me reverbing annoyingly in my head like the sound of someone chewing with their mouth open:Mark put up with your very average marketing skills for obvious reasons. Was that true? I shook my head, imagining shoving a twelve-inch sub into her open mouth. Blessed silence. “IfI get thejob. And speaking of résumés, mine looks terrible, what with having to leave out my employment at Piranha. There’s a two-year gap.” I neatly side-stepped right over her comment about seeing Curtis again. I didn’t need a walking Gucci wallet with god-complex energy hovering around, reminding me of every wealthy man who’d ever looked at me like I was a clearance item with the tag ripped off. But then again, if I got the job, I’d probably never see him. He wouldn’t be my direct boss. CEOs of companies that big were normally jetting around the world and in meetings 24/7.
“But she’s already seen your résumé—she said so in the message. As long as you have a good excuse, it’ll be fine. Stretch the truth about the freelance stuff. It’s not like she’s going to ask to see your invoices.”
It would be my luck for her to do that. It really would.
I took a gulp of wine. “I don’t know. What if I’m not good enough?”
“Of course you’re going to call her, and you are good enough. Don’t give up now. This is the universe telling you that you do deserve more.” Her eyes softened. “You were amazing at your job. Don’t let your mom’s voice into your head or Amanda’s. She was the one stealing your sloppy leftovers, not the other way around. You deserve this just as much as anyone else. And think of the money and not abandoning me in New York.”
I sighed and gave her a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “You have Ernie, your friends from work, Joanne down the hall, and Frederick.” I looked pointedly at the houseplant next to the window. “You don’t need me.”
“If I were a violent person, I would slap the silly out of you right now. FaithDays-of-our-LivesEmery, you’re my best friend, and if I say I don’t want you to go, I mean it.”
“Calling out the drama queen in me. That’s a low blow.” I softened it with a small smile and considered yet again whether I should swap my glass for the bottle. But I did feel bad that I’dquestioned her friendship. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. And I know you love me. It’s just… sometimes I spiral. Anyway… enough talking about me.”
“Not until you promise you’ll at least go for the interview. Call her back. Please?”
Reality finally sunk in. Knight Advertising was an amazing company—even if they were run by a man I would prefer not to talk to—and I’d be a fool not to call Stephanie back. Maybe it would be the beginning of a fantastic new chapter in my life. Even if it wasn’t, and it was only the beginning of me earning decent money, I’d take it. Frances inUnder the Tuscan Suntook a crazy chance, and look what happened—she thrived. Not that my life was a feel-good movie. It was more like a disaster flick.
