“It’s so amazing to meet you, Charlie! Or should I call you @ChaptersWithCharlie?” She winks.
Please don’t, I want to say. Instead, I smile and say, “Charlie is fine. Do you want a drink or something?”
“I’m okay for now,” Vivienne says, crossing her arms and leaning over the high-top table so that her cleavage presses together.
I get the sense she knows people are watching her. There’s something about her that is…performative. But I don’t care. I don’t care if she strips naked and does cartwheels; this is my only viable option. I need this job, as nontraditional as it might be.
“Well, I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity, Vivienne. It really means a lot.”
“Oh my God, please, call me Viv. And it’s no problem. Don’t even think of this as a formal job interview. We’re gonna chat, get to know each other, ’kay?”
Bullshit. This is the Big One, the most important interview of my life.
As if she can read my thoughts, Viv says, “I won’t waste any more of your time, so let’s get started! First off, why do you want this position? I know we chatted a little on our Zoom call about you wanting to expand your audience and reach new demographics, but c’mon. Give me the real reason.” She waggles her brows at me and leans forward.
“Well, I feel like what all of you are doing onEmpressis a unique opportunity to leverage my personal brand and get to the next level,” I say, reciting the carefully scripted answer I drafted on the plane ride to Florida. “I mean, it’s brilliant too. A yacht full of influencers with various niches living together, promoting their brands? It’s like reality TV, except it has the potential to be beneficial. I think my focus on literature and helping people prioritize reading could be beneficial to us both.”
You used the word “beneficial” twice, you moron, I chastise myself.This is why you’re not a writer.
Viv grins and then opens her mouth wide, pretending to yawn. She splays her perfectly manicured hands on the high-top and licks the corner of her lip. “Firstly,Empressisn’tjusta yacht. It’s more like a…mansion on the water. That can sometimes move. But seriously, come on, Char. That’s a canned answer if I’ve ever heard one. You’re my last interview. And I’ll be honest, you’re the only book influencer we’re looking at, and that makes you interesting to me. But something I value is honesty. That’s a rule for the girls onEmpress; we live authentically and share our authentic lives with our followers.”
I work hard to keep my face under control as I listen. Forcing someone to be honest doesn’t sound too authentic to me, but there is something captivating about Viv that I can’t deny. I find myself leaning toward her when she talks, holding my breath so my exhales don’t mute any of her words.
“Come on, give it to me. The truth.” She reaches out, and, before I can stop her, her slender tanned fingers are wrapped around my right hand. Her index finger traces a little circle on the inside of my wrist, sending a shiver up my spine. “Tell me the truth.” For a moment, her voice changes. It becomes deeper, more commanding.
There’s something intoxicating about her. Something powerful. And I’m desperate. Hearing her mention other interviews, other influencers, ones who probably have more followers and more experience than me, has triggered a flood of panic. This opportunity could be slipping away like the beads of sweat that are racing down my shoulders toward the floor.
“I need the money,” I blurt out.
“Go on.” Viv’s finger stills, but she keeps hold of my wrist, nodding for me to continue.
“My student loans. Bills. Everything. My roommate…” I swallow, forcing away thoughts of Sage. “I don’t have a roommate anymore, and I’m having trouble finding someone to replace her, so I’m paying for the whole apartment myself. It’s way out of my budget.”
Everything is out of my budget, including this trip. I wonder if I’ll be compensated for the flight and bus ride. I didn’t think to ask Viv before now. I wanted to look like a team player, but maybe that was a mistake. My mother taught my sister and me the value of a hard-earned dollar. Despite being a single mom, she worked her ass off, saving up enough money as an anesthesiologist that when she died,her assets split between Emily and me, half of my college tuition was covered. My mother’s cancer didn’t let her see me graduate, but she got me there nonetheless. Yet school and simplyexistingthese days is expensive, and I ran out of funds.
“I need this, honestly,” I admit, thinking of my remaining student loans, the pile of bills on my kitchen table. My outbox chock-full of hundreds of job applications with no response.
Viv releases my wrist so suddenly that I’m off balance, as if her weight on my body was an anchor keeping me steady. “And your current job? Does it not pay enough?”
“I was working two jobs to make ends meet. I lost them both when…” I can’t help the crack that interjects itself into the middle of my voice. I try again: “My roommate died. It was…it was sudden. We were friends. I couldn’t…function, after.”
Viv’s face softens. Her lips twist sympathetically, and she coos, “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Listen, I know how it feels to lose someone you love. It’s okay, Char.”
I try not to bristle. I can’t bring myself to ask Viv to not call me that. Only Sage ever called me Char. But if Viv gives me this job, she can call me whatever she wants.
“It’s been hard.”
“Of course. I had no idea.” Viv’s face creases in pity, but her makeup is too thick to show her full expression. Her empathy is muted by Botox and foundation. “I’m sorry.” She reaches out and grabs my hand again, patting it. “You know, besides the luxury andthe generous pay and the increase in followers, there’s something elseEmpresscan provide you with.”
“What?”
She smiles. “Family. The girls onEmpressare all close. We’re each other’s best friends. Whatever you’re going through, whatever trauma you have inside, they will be there for you.”
I pause. A circle of women I could be friends with. That’s appealing. Almost as much as the money. Sage and I were close, but after everything went down, I was left alone. I tend to have a single focused, intense friendship instead of fifty casual acquaintances. It was Sage who was the social, connected one. Without her, I was adrift. First, we stopped being friends, then she died. And spending the past three months holed up in my apartment beset by anxiety hasn’t exactly been conducive to meeting new people.
Sometimes you don’t recognize how lonely you are until it’s explicitly pointed out.
Viv leans back, crossing her arms, appraising me. “I like you, Char. I think this would work.”
