Quit Me If You Can

5. Kennedy

5

KENNEDY

R ING. RING. RIIIIIIING.

My phone jolts me from my dreams. My head hurts. It’s just a normal ringtone, but in the midst of a wine hangover it always sounds particularly obnoxious.

Blindly, I feel around on my nightstand until the screaming, buzzing contraption makes its way between my fingers.

“Hello?” I’m astonished at how ragged and awful I sound.

“Ms. Hayes?” A warm tone greets me. “This is Carmen Dashnell. We met yesterday about the paralegal position.”

Pressing my hand to my pounding head, I sink back into my pillow. Here it is. The polite and gentle letdown. I expected the rejection, of course. Honestly, I’m surprised they called at all, especially after the email I sent last night.

“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” she offers, in response to my silence.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” I lie… strategically, I hope.

“I’m pleased to be calling to offer you the position. On behalf of Mr. Gladwell and the entire firm, after careful consideration, we have decided to move forward with hiring you, provided you are still interested.”

Shooting straight up in bed, I’m filled with an immediate surge of adrenaline that overpowers the competing swishy, nauseous feeling I’m getting from the sudden movement.

“Come again?”

“We were thoroughly impressed with your qualifications, and the paralegal position is yours. If you want it.”

“Oh! Okay. Well, I…” I’m panicking? I don’t panic! But my brain seizes up with confusion.

But the email! Didn’t they get the email?

Carmen’s tone grows unsure. “If you need time to think about it… I could give you until the end of the day. But we are quite eager to fill this vacancy quickly, so I’m afraid I can’t give you much more time than that.”

I’m running through all the scenarios in my mind in rapid-fire succession. I can’t jump to accept the job, not with the risk of them seeing what I sent earlier. I’d look like a basket case. But maybe they haven’t checked their email yet. But then again, it’s the afternoon. They must have checked by now. If I’m lucky, though, maybe my email got buried in their spam folder.

“Yes, the end of the day would be great,” I blurt, desperate to buy myself some time to process this. “I promise I’ll let you know by five p.m.”

After we end the call, I stare at the phone in shock, then shake my head . What? How? Unbelievable!

Stumbling into the kitchen, a whiff of fresh coffee hits me first; my sense of smell kicks in before my eyes even focus. The walls are painted burgundy. A bold choice on the part of the owners who rented before us. It’s a bit much, really, but it somehow gives the kitchen a sense of character, even if the color has faded just a touch over time. The white cabinets were once spotless, but now they’ve picked up their fair share of scuffs and smudges. There’s a cozy, lived-in messiness to it all that I love.

I find Harper already dressed for work, her black shirt revealing her amazing cleavage, courtesy of that one fantastic bra we scored on a sketchy website. She’s guzzling down as much coffee as she can, with the newspaper spread out next to her, the way she does every morning.

“Good morning, sunshine .” She beams, with a playful twinkle in her eye. I know it isn’t morning, and I know I look like anything but the primary source of sustenance for all life on Earth.

“The job! I got it!” I exclaim.

“What job?”

“Harper! The job. Don’t you remember? The ex-boyfriend job. They just called and they… they offered it to me!” My voice pitches higher in disbelief.

She grins and takes another long sip from her mug, leaving a coffee mustache on her upper lip. “I knew it. Told you you would. Thank you, universe!”

Huh? Thank you, universe?

“Harper! Don’t thank the universe!” I swallow hard, my voice growing shriller. “You don’t understand. I sent an email last night. I told them I didn’t want the job. And now I don’t know if they’ve seen my email. I’m going to look like a crazy person, and I only have until five o’clock to tell them if I want it, but by then, they might have seen my email and?—”

Harper gets up to pull me into her arms. “Calm down, chica. You’re hungover and panicking. You want the job. Just take it. Besides, if the email comes up, you can always tell them it was meant for a different firm you interviewed with.”

“Oh, sure, that’s the perfect first impression! Nice to meet you. Yep, that’s me. The paralegal who’s on a first-name basis with ‘Undo Send.’ But hey, at least I haven’t mistakenly forwarded a client’s email straight to the defense counsel,” I say.

“Or worse, accidentally emailed a judge your extensive research on the best happy hour deals in town.”

“Ha! Can you imagine?”

Grinning from cheek to cheek, Harper rubs my arm sweetly and then stares me in the eyes. “Listen to me, K. Take it. This job is tailor-made for you.”

“It is? How so?”

“It’s your one and only chance to prove to Cade what he’s missed by dumping you.”

I nod, mulling that over as she struts out the door for work.

An hour later, with my phone in hand, I’m gearing up to make a brave decision.

Harper’s right. If nothing else, I’m going to make him regret ditching me like that. It’s about time I got VBF (very busy fucking—with somebody else, not Cade). Also, Harper’s abbreviation and idea, not mine.

Who the hell is Cade Gladwell, anyway? He’s just another guy. Another bosshole and smarmy lawyer who means nothing to me. Hmph. I barely even remember him.

Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him every day. True, he’s the managing partner—basically the king of the castle—but it’s not like I’ll work directly for him. The firm is huge. I’ll be surprised if I see him ever.

And those glasses. Serious nerd vibes. Get a life, you, you… briefcase brainiac!

I call Carmen and accept the job.