“Could I please have the rest of the day off?”
He smiles in a sympathetic way. “Of course. I know this wasn’t the news you wanted to hear.”
Yeah, no shit.
I didn’t say that out loud, but maybe my face did, because the sympathy is gone from Vick’s smile.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say as I stand.
“Do try to get some rest and calm down,” Vick says, and my pulse skyrockets.
I close the door behind me and rage swells in my chest. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to fuckingruinPatricia Evans.
two
Aloo Gobi and Big Life Decisions
There’s absolutely no reason to ruin Patricia Evans. It’s not going to get me the position I want, and it’s going to make way more enemies among the staff.Good luck finding another publication job, Cait.
I throw a Reese’s Pieces up in the air and catch it—almost. It bounces off my chin and lands in my cleavage. I fish it out and stuff it in my mouth as I scroll to the next post on Instaframe.
“Another gorgeous rebind by @CaitsCovers.”
I melt as the image glows back at me. A perfectly staged setting forThe Bloodmoon Priestess,a high fantasy romance with fae and vampires. The velvety crimson cover is stark against a sheer white sheet that’s splattered with fake blood. A knife, glistening with red,sits beside a goblet full of wine, in perfect juxtaposition to the canted book.
I close my eyes and remember the feel of the velvet as I prepared the space for the gold foil lettering. It was a tricky job getting the cutouts to take to the unique material, but I wanted it just as bad as NikkiNecro did, and she paid me well for it so there was no way I was going to mess it up.
My thumbs ticker-tack across my phone screen as I type out a heartfelt message, and comment on the badassery of her staging.
Maybe I could rebind books full time. Screw the publishing industry and do my own thing. If I charged two hundred per commission, plus supplies, plus extra for really complex asks, I could make…
Not enough to live in my one-bedroom apartment in L.A.
I hold the opening of the candy box to my mouth and dump a few in. The crunching helps me think better. And the sugar, too.
I could always move. Nothing is tying me here but Waldorf Press. Mom and Dad are in Nova Scotia, so phone calls would be the same no matter where I go.
“Bddrrrr-mah!” Oscar cries as he jumps into my lap and immediately starts making biscuits on my stomach.
“Oh, who’s a good boy,” I say, scritching under his chin the way he likes.
“Mah, mah, mah,” he purrs, confirming that he, in fact, is the good boy.
After a few rounds of pets, he turns for the edge of the couch and looks back over his shoulder; his signature move to get me to follow him. I put my phone down and realize it’s dark in the apartment.The clock on the stove reads 8:07 and my stomach grumbles. A pack of candy was not an appropriate dinner.
I follow Oscar to his bowl to see he doesn’t think he’s got an appropriate dinner, either. The bottom of the bowl is visible between mountains of red and brown kibble he’s pushed to the sides. I sigh and take the bowl to the kitchen counter and get his food from the top shelf of the cabinet. I pull out a scoop and sprinkle in a few pieces, then move the rest around until the bottom is covered again.
Oscar looks up at me when I set the bowl down, disapproving, but not outright angry about the tactic. He eats his kibble, and I turn to the kitchen to find my own sustenance. The fridge holds no leftovers to easily pop in the microwave, so I move up to the freezer and find a premade meal. VegiStar’s Aloo Gobi with jasmine rice.
I stab the plastic lid a few times—no, I do not imagine it’s Patricia’s face—and toss it in the microwave. Orange light casts across my little kitchen and a deep whir fills the void of silence. I lean against the stove and scroll again.
“Charming fixer-upper bookstore & apartment combo in cozy Dashbern, Wisconsin.”
The only image is a shot of the front of the store, but it is charming. The front is dark wood that’s been well weathered by humid air. It has two large windows with an arch at the top on either side of the heavy-looking door. It’s elegantly adorned with a stained-glass window of an open book surrounded by flowers, potion bottles, and magical flourishes.
My heart pitter-patters at the sight, and an urge comes over me like I’ve never known. I click on the link and I’m taken out of Instaframe to a webpage.
Short-sale Businesses dot com.
