I almost consider it. Almost.
Instead, I slam the laptop shut harder than I mean to. The sound echoes through the empty apartment, bouncing off the marble countertops and vaulted ceilings.
My phone vibrates.
I snatch it up, my heart surging, only to sag when I see it's just a calendar reminder to follow up with Rainer & Baldwin…as if that's necessary now.
My blood pressure spikes.
I pace the length of my apartment, my bare feet sinking into the plush blue rug, then stop at the massive windows overlooking the park. Everything out there is alive and moving, while I'm stuck in this glass box, a princess in her tower.
I run a hand through my hair, then tug on a clump of curls until it hurts.
Enough.
I don't bother with a glass. I just pry the cap off the bottle of Sancerre in the fridge and take a long pull. It's not even noon, but who cares? Maybe I'll get blackout drunk on cheap wine and wake up to find out this was all a hallucination.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, then open the laptop again and stare at my options.
There aren't any. Every agency in the city has either rejected me or is outright ignoring me.
I need answers, and there's only one person in the city who might give me a straight one: Joel Gaines, a friend from college. He graduated last year and now works for Nina Livingston Talent Management. I sent him my resume weeks ago, hoping he could put in a good word for me.
I hesitate for all of two seconds, then hit the button to call him before I can lose my nerve.
He picks up on the fourth ring. "Brielle?"
"Joel." My voice comes out hoarse, though whether that's from the wine or the rage, I can't tell. "Are you busy?"
He laughs, the sound nervous. "I'm at my desk. What's up?"
I press my palm to my forehead, counting again, but it doesn't help. "I need you to tell me the truth. Did you guys even look at my resume?"
There's a pause, and I picture him nervously glancing around to see if Nina is listening. That's probably pretty accurate. Joel has always been an anxious little weirdo. It's part of why I like him.
"We looked," he says finally. "But—"
"But what?"
There's a longer pause this time. "It's not my call, Brie. I swear, if it was up to me…"
"Just tell me." My voice is shaky, more plea than demand. "Did I do something wrong? Is there something off with my resume? Or is there something I don't know?"
Joel exhales, a reluctant gust that rattles down the line like static. "It's not you. It's…" He drops his voice to a hush. "Look, off the record? Nina was ready to interview you, but word got out that nobody is supposed to hire you. Apparently, she got a phone call."
I grip the edge of the island so hard my knuckles go white. "A phone call from who?"
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. I feel the chill of certainty settle over me.
"You're fucking kidding me," I seethe. "Asher is seriously blackballing me? How is that even possible?"
Joel clears his throat, and I hear the whir of a printer in the background. "You know how this business works. One phone call from the right person and you're radioactive. No one wants Blackstock for an enemy, not when he's ruined companies for less. I'm sorry. I really am."
I stare at the marble countertop, at the pattern of veins and flecks that look like cracks spidering outward from my palm. Iwant to scream, or throw my laptop out the window, or crawl under the counter and never come out.
"Did he threaten her?" I ask instead.
Joel is silent, and then he sighs. "Not directly. But yeah, he made it pretty clear that he'll destroy anyone who crosses him on this. It was…intense. Nina has power, but not even she wants to take that risk, not when half of his clients have the power to decide if ours get to work or not." He swallows audibly. "I'm really sorry."
