Chapter 27
Joelle
“That neighborhood is absolute trash. You can’t live there!” Dad tugs the printout across the table to read the listing.
“The price is right,” I say, taking his coffee cup to the counter for a refill. “It’s close to the college. And the neighborhood’s not that bad.”
“Two of the windows are boarded up.”
I don’t have a good comeback for that one. “Maybe they’re weatherproofing?”
Dad rolls his eyes and balls up the paper, pitching it into the trash atop all the other discarded candidates.
“You know, you could always just stay here,” says Dad. His tone is casual, but his shoulders are practically covering his ears. I set his coffee mug down on the table in front of him and lean over to kiss his cheek.
“I know, Dad,” I say, patting his shoulder before taking my seat again. “I appreciate that, I really do. I won’t rush into anything, I promise, but it’s time I at least started looking for my own place.”
Dad grunts, but doesn’t disagree.
“You got time,” he says. “Better you focus on getting into that fancy school than worrying about making rent.”
“Maybe,” I say. But the time for that dream has passed. I can’t exactly say I’ve made peace with it. Culinary school has been my goal since I was old enough to turn on the oven. But right now, there’s some life stuff in the way. And that’s okay, too. Just because I’m not already there doesn’t mean I won’t get there.
It’s one more debt I owe to two men I don’t think I’ll ever see again. I’d never in a million years be so sure of myself and my abilities if it hadn’t been for them.
I chug my ice water fast enough to make my head hurt. Anything to keep the tears at bay.
I’d made it a whopping ten minutes without getting misty-eyed this time. Progress.
The doorbell rings and Dad’s out of his chair before I even look up.
“That’ll be Connie,” he says on his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll get the door.”
Dad took it pretty well, all things considered, when I told him I’d had not one boyfriend, but two. And that those two guys were also seeing each other. Dad had tried to shrug it off as “college-age experimentation,” a phrase that left us both unable to make eye contact for several minutes. But he’d been extra kind to me ever since, ordering dinner for us more than once so I didn’t have to do all the cooking and making sure I got dessert every time.
I guess if you have to be heartbroken twice over, there are worse ways to go through it.
The phone rings, saving me from a complete breakdown right there in the kitchen. The number on the screen is one I don’t recognize, though it’s clearly local.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello,” says a perky female voice. “I’m calling for Joelle Munroe.”
“Speaking.”
“Ms. Munroe! It’s wonderful to speak with you at last. My name is Kenna Burch. I’m a producer over at Sizzle, the cooking network. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
I’m gaping like a damn fish out of water, so it takes me a beat too long to answer. Sizzle is the newest—and from what I’ve heard is now the biggest—cooking channel on television, largely due to their inclusive approach with online content.
“I’m familiar with the network. What can I do for you, Ms. Burch?”
“Oh, call me Kenna, please. I’m calling because your blog has been recommended to us by quite a few of our viewers. You’ve got a lot of fans out there, Ms. Munroe.”
“Um, thanks.”
“A few of the producers here would like to set up a meeting with you, at your convenience of course.”
“Sure,” I say slowly, not quite catching on. “Um, what’s the meeting for?” Am I in trouble or something? I know the thought is ludicrous but I’m shaking so hard right now it feels just like the one and only time I got called to the principal’s office in junior high.
“Oh! My bad, I probably should have led with that,” says Kenna, laughing. It’s a tinkling, attractive sound that makes me want to laugh with her. “We recently received your application for the production assistant position.”
“Wow,” I say. I’d submitted that application months ago. Long before I ever met—
Long before I ever started working at Duckbill. I’d assumed they hired somebody else and forgot the whole thing.
“When do you need me for an interview?”
“My bad—again,” says Kenna. “I’m just so excited to talk with you. We’re not looking to interview you for the job. That’s just how we got your contact information, Joelle. Can I call you Joelle?”
I murmur something approximating a yes.
“Joelle, we’re just smitten with your blog. Your videos are raw but incredibly promising, and we’ve seen all the glowing press you’ve gotten for that restaurant revamp. Put simply, you’re a rising star. We’d like to talk with you about putting together a pilot.”
“A pilot. Like a TV show pilot? An actual show?”
She laughs again and this time, I don’t curb the smile.
“An actual show,” she says. “When would be a good time to meet?”
The details are a blur but I manage to scribble down a day and time and an address before hanging up.
Dad and Connie are laughing at something in the living room. The second pot of the day is brewing, the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the kitchen. The box of pastries on the counter is still giving off that incredible fresh-from-the-bakery aroma.
Everything here is the same as it was three minutes ago, but it feels like the entire world around me shifted.
“Who was that, girlie?” Connie says, coming into the kitchen. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”
“I might have been,” I say, offering her a mug. She pours her coffee and turns back to me. When I don’t say anything, she asks, “Well?”
“That was Sizzle. The cable network with all the cooking and food shows. They want to talk to me about filming a pilot.”
Connie sets the mug down so fast coffee splashes all over the counter.
“Hank! Get in here!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Dad comes loping in as fast as he can. “What happened?”
“Your girl here’s going to be a star, that’s what!” Connie’s whooping drowns out Dad’s response, but she doesn’t stop until she’s scooped me up into a hug. “I knew you were going places, girlie.”
I hug her back, tears prickling my eyes. This time, I’m not ashamed to let them fall.
“Thanks, Connie.”
“Sit down, will you?” says Dad, waving us both over to the table. “My leg can’t take all the dancing around.” He sets the bakery box down in front Connie, handing her a plate.
I reiterate the conversation for them, and then again a second time at Connie’s insistence. Before long, they’re bickering about the merits of fame and whether or not Dad should go ahead and hire a bodyguard to protect me so I tune out and let them have their fun.
Wasn’t I just thinking that culinary school could wait? Didn’t I just come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter how long it took to get there, I’d get there just the same?
It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something. That maybe I really can have it all—if I have the nerve to go after what I want.
I’d be a damn fool not to listen.
So maybe it’s a little unusual to fall in love with two men at once. It’s also pretty damn unusual to get a phone call from my most favorite channel on TV, and that just happened.
My phone chimes again and I pick it up automatically, expecting to see the email confirmation Kenna told me she’d send.
It’s not that. It’s a text from Elliot.
I gulp hard and swipe the message open.
Can you come to the house? We need to talk.
A second message pops up before I can respond.
Please? I know I owe you an apology but I’d rather do it in person.
I was all set to tell him I’d be right there, but that second message rubs me the wrong way. He wants to apologize? Good. He was a jerk. But he can damn well come to me if he wants to say sorry. Why should I deliver?
Who am I even kidding right now? I’ve never missed anyone so much in my whole life as I’ve missed Elliot and Alex the last couple of days. Even if all he wants to tell me is “Sorry, have a nice life,” I can’t miss this chance to see them again.
If it weren’t for them, I’d never have had the courage to say yes when Sizzle called a little while ago. They showed me I’m worth it, and not only because they thought so. Because I have value. I have more to offer this world. Thanks to Alex and Elliot, I know it.
My cheeks hurt and I realize it’s from smiling so damn hard. Dad’s still going on about something but Connie catches my expression and narrows her eyes. I hold up a hand to check yet another text before she can ask.
Hurry, if you can. His ex is here.
That wipes the smile clear off my face.
“Dad, can I borrow the car?”
“Take mine,” says Connie. “I don’t have to work tonight. Use it as long as you want.” She winks at me. I slow long enough to circle the table and hug her hard.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome, girlie,” she whispers back. “Go get your boys back already.”