31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
B y mid-week, I started to feel less than excited about the job prospects before me.
I’d had four interviews already but didn’t feel particularly optimistic about my prospects for any of them. I’d mostly applied for long-term contract work, but I did interview for a couple of full-time employee positions as well. The only one that actually sounded like interesting work was also the one that made me uncomfortable, as the executive editor who interviewed me had boasted about being a long-time friend of Brandon Bolder. Any excitement I’d had about that job quickly dissipated. Even if I could stomach being acquainted with, much less employed by, another friend of Brandon’s, I didn’t trust him to put in a good word for me. Since I’d rebuffed both the man and his company, chances were high that any job reference from him wouldn’t be glowing. The other interviews were for editing work that either seemed boring or offered lower pay than I was accustomed to. Being content with editing dull material for mediocre pay was a thing of the past, I’d resolved.
By Thursday morning, I was feeling pessimistic and decided to take a day off from job hunting, but first I absentmindedly checked my email.
My eyes widened when they landed on my inbox. At the top was an email from Bethany Bell, the founder and editor-in-chief of Forward I didn’t want to mislead you. Is that a dealbreaker for you?”
I considered this information for a moment before responding. “Well, it—”
“Wait a minute. I have an idea!” Bethany said, her eyes brightening. “I just came from the writers’ meeting, and we were talking about how we could really use a part-time staff writer right now. One of our fabulous writers, Lavanya, is going on maternity leave in a few weeks and then probably coming back only half-time, so it wouldn’t be a hard sell in terms of the budget. Would you by any chance be interested in doing both? With the editing and writing work we have available, the combination would be equivalent to a full-time position, I’m certain!”
I opened my mouth to decline but hesitated. I wasn’t really a writer. I was good at helping writers shine. Sure, I was attempting to write a novel and had been praised for my essay writing throughout my years of schooling and had wanted to be an author since I was 8 years old. But I wasn’t a writer. Not really.
Still, you’ll never know if you don’t try .
I felt my heart soar. For once, the small voice inside was encouraging and not holding me back.
Bethany’s smile faded. “It’s fine if you’re not interested in that. I just wanted to put that on the table.”
“No, it’s not that.” I moistened my dry lips. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking. A writing job wasn’t what I had in mind, but I will be honest and say that … it’s kind of an exciting offer. I mean, not an offer per se, but the position sounds interesting. I’d be interesting—I mean, interested.”
Bethany’s smile was kind but professional. “Right, not quite an offer yet, but I like you, Viviana. I have a good feeling about this.” She stood up then, smoothing her maroon pantsuit and then holding out her hand. “Right then, I do have a few more interviews this afternoon, but I’ll be in touch soon. I might make the decision as soon as tomorrow. If offered the position, could you start in two weeks?”
My head bobbed up and down. “Of course! I’d be honored to work here,” I gushed. “Thank you so much for meeting with me.”
Bethany smiled and rushed out of the room, busy woman that she was. I followed slowly, taking my time to look around the office as I walked toward the exit. Clearly, the workplace was fairly casual, if the decor and the frequent laughter from down the corridor were any indication. And the work would be interesting . I could be editing—writing!—about things that actually matter to me. Things that matter in the world. Things people actually want to read. Such a dramatic departure from my years working for Bolder on dry technical, business, or academic tomes. Granted, I’d never be a writer of Jack’s caliber.
But … why not? Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. It’s time to stop selling myself short.
I left the building with a wide smile.
But as I drove home, my excitement gave way to doubt. Did I have what it takes to be a writer, even a part-time one? Would Bethany think I have what it takes? Would I fit in there? Did I want to give up my complete flexibility in working from home 99% of the time and accepting projects only on my terms? Was this position fully or only partially on-site? I’d couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to ask.
The last question I asked myself was accompanied by a flutter in my abdomen: Should I call Jack to ask for the reference or stop over at his place?
In the end, I opted to send him a text pleading for a glowing recommendation. Surely he was too busy for anything more than a text anyway. I smiled when he replied almost instantly: “As if you need to ask.” Upon arriving at home, I fired off a quick email to Bethany with Jack’s contact info.
When I awoke the next morning, I squinted to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the thin, hated blue curtains. Why had I allowed myself to live for years in an apartment decorated in dull colors that weren’t me at all? If one could even call this decorated. I rubbed my eyes and rose to a half sitting position.
I absently reached for my phone on the cluttered nightstand and switched it on. Examining my inbox, I scowled. No email from Bethany.
It’s only 8 am . Bethany’s probably not even at work yet .
As I rose and began to think about how to spend my day, I realized my apartment basically had nothing more to clean or organize. It was as tidy as it had ever been—or ever would be, I suspected—because I’d had little else to do. Even my old favorite pastimes of reading Austen novels or Austenesque spinoffs and watching Austen movies had lost their appeal of late, considering my brutal brush with romantic reality in recent weeks.
Putting down my empty coffee cup, I eyed my phone warily. I should probably call Jenn, whose calls and texts I’d scarcely been responding to. I was beginning to feel rather terrible about it, but I just hadn’t wanted to face all the questions about Gregory. Jenn was usually busy with her family anyway, I rationalized. I could text her instead of calling. Busy people preferred texts anyway, right?
Or not. The phone rang almost immediately after I sent a carefully worded text. Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to answer. “Hello.”
“Viv, you’re alive! I don’t know whether to be relieved or pissed.”
“Jenn—”
“Lucky for you, Jack actually answers his phone, so I had my ways of finding out you were still alive.”
“Jenn, I’m—”
“Tyler lost a tooth. Kieran lost his job. And I broke my leg.”
“ What? Oh no, I’m so—”
“But do you want to know the worst of it? I couldn’t even get my Viv fix. I had no idea what was going on with you and your wild, romantic whirlwind life,” Jenn said accusingly. “And there haven’t been any good rom-coms on Netflix lately.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping I sounded contrite. Because I did feel terrible. “There has been no romantic anything, and I just … I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. But, more importantly, are you and Kieran OK? What happened? I’m so sorry to hear all this, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there as the friend you needed.”
“You mean you don’t have scintillating stories from your love life to share? Seriously, Viv , that is just the last straw,” Jenn said, making me chuckle a bit. “You know I’m just being overdramatic. We all need our space sometimes, I get it. Since Kieran was laid off, I haven’t had a moment to myself. You know I love him more than life, but even this extrovert needs her me time once in a while. But the kicker is that I need him around anyway because I can’t get very far on these dang crutches.”
“Sorry, Jenn. What can I do to help? I’ve been a god-awful friend, like … like Kate Beckinsale’s character from Serendipity , minus the star-crossed lover.”
“Well, for starters, you can come to board game night this Sunday. I hear Jack’s bringing Bel, so that’ll be fun. Don’t even think up an excuse; I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“And of course you need to fill me in. Soon .”
“I will, Jenn. Thanks for … for putting up with me,” I said apologetically. “You have to tell me how you broke your leg. And what happened with Kieran’s job?”
“It’s an outrage; everyone thought he was amazing at his job. Damned budget cuts at the university. I mean, we’ll survive. He hates to rely on his family money, but it’s only temporary, and what good are rich parents if you can’t take their money occasionally? I kid, mostly. He’s a little salty about it, obviously. As for my leg, well, that’s a long and slightly embarrassing story, and I want to hear yours first. Come over before everyone else on Sunday so we can chat?” Jenn said hopefully.
I didn’t want to commit to talking about everything yet, but I probably owed it to Jenn. “Sure. I’ll be there.”
After hanging up, I saw a new mail notification. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was from Bethany. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously clicked to open the email. The first line read, “Can you start in 10 days?”
I smiled, and my shoulders relaxed. After typing a quick response to Bethany, I sent a short thank-you text to Jack for what must have been a great recommendation.
It was going to be a great day after all.