Augie hated how her heart sank. She hated what that said about her: that she was so caught up in her own shortcomings, she couldn’t be happy for her friend.
“That’s amazing, Lee.” She jumped up to hug her. “Seriously, that’s great. Congrats!”
“Thanks,” Leah sighed.
Augie slowly sat back at her desk.
“It was a long time coming, obviously. But it’s a good night to celebrate.” She fiddled with the edge of Augie’s duvet, a new sincerity seeping into her face, which made Augie feel worse. “Are you sure you can’t come?”
“I really wish I could, but it’s going to be such a long day tomorrow. Let’s celebrate again soon, though, okay? Whatever you want.”
“Okay, yeah. Hannah suggested we go to Eleven for sushi.”
Augie tensed. Leah had told Hannah first? Eleven was one of the most expensive rooftop restaurants downtown.
“Definitely. Let’s do it.”
It went quiet before Leah spoke again, hesitating, like she was about to walk out onto a thawing lake.
“I am serious, Aug. The Harrisons really do need help with the restaurant. They’re shooting to open in a few weeks, and they’re super behind. I’m sure Mallory would hire you, even part-time. It could begoodfor your résumé.”
“I appreciate it. But, I’m good.” Augie didn’t want a different job. She wanted to get out of Minnesota entirely.
It was a difficult thing to explain to locals. Of course, Minnesota wasn’t all bad; there were beautiful lakes and bike trails, a cool downtown art scene, lots of sports teams to cheer for, but to Augie, it felt claustrophobic. Suffocating. It seemed everyone had lived there for generations—if you weren’t from the area, it was hard tobreak in. Aldon Lakes was especially cliquey and insulated. As much money as people had, they never left. They liked being big fish in a small pond. Augie had always felt like an outsider, like if she stayed there, she’d never grow into someone new; she’d become frozen in time, forever the same version of herself.
“You know, Aug, it’s not like this is the worst place to start out. You could still get experience while you keep applying. I don’t get it. I don’t think you have anything to prove.”
Augie tried to ignore the pressure building at her temples. “I do, though. To myself. Seriously, I’m happy for you... but this isn’t where I want to be. This isn’t what I want to do. I don’t want to get sucked into the Hotel Harrison. It’s basically the same place as the Club.”
“Right. Okay.” Leah stood, scuffing on her sandals.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry. I really am happy for you.”
“I know,” Leah repeated, picking up her purse. “I just thinkyoucould be happy, too. If you’d stop getting in your own way. You need to get over New York, okay? Ad agencies merge, people get fired. Guys turn out to be Fuckboys. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Leah, I—” Her conscience was spiraling, her lies tangling inside her.
“Look, I’m tired, okay? Work is stressful right now. It’s all fine. We’ll get together later. I’ll call you.”
She left before Augie could respond.
Augie knew she would see Chat at the men’s guest charity tournament. She felt it in her bones, a rare visceral instinct. Though, at one point, she had also heard Mr. Dryer say Bill’s latest partner in crime was insanely good. Part of Augie was eager to see him, but she still felt clouded by her conversation with Leah. All around, she felt a thrumming drumline of nerves.
Augie spent all of the breakfast shift watching for him. She wasn’t surprised they didn’t show. That’s what made the pretournament breakfast so annoying: Despite the staff waking at dawn to set up, most players went straight to the course. It was only the first event of the day, too; the real party was the end-of-tournament happy hour. This meant the servers had to kill four to five hours while the men played eighteen holes. It wasn’t like they got to hang around, either—they had a whole list of back-of-house chores to complete: fill salt and pepper shakers, clean the ice and coffee machines, prep for future events.
Augie didn’t mind the chance to hang out with TC. Together, they went to the ballroom to fold napkins for a wedding shower the following evening. The theme wasSwan Lake, and naturally, they’d requested napkins as birds.
“Is it weird that I enjoy this? It’s like origami,” Augie said as she and TC stood at a round, linen-less banquet table, the bare wood ugly and exposed.
“Not at all. You’re giving us life!” TC said in a cartoonish voice as he dipped the head of his recent fold.
Augie pressed a swan to her cheek, stroking it like a pet.
“So, who do you think will take it all this year?” TC glanced out the west windows toward the eleventh hole.
“I don’t care so long as the happy hour ends at a decent time. They always stay so late. It’s, like, because it’s for charity, they feel good about drinking all night long.”
“Jägerbombs in the name of a good cause.” TC pulled the last stack of laundered napkins from the plastic wrap. “I think my money’s on Bill and the manny.”
