22. Spencer
CHAPTER 22
SPENCER
I am so fucked. Like, royally screwed. One minute you think that you have your shit firmly together, resolute in never dating again. Then suddenly you’re making out with your situationship that is feeling less and less like the casual fling you intended it to be.
It’s like I’m a teenager again, but this time without the constant anxiety and pit in my stomach knowing I have to go home to my mom’s boyfriend’s house after school. Or that I’ll go home to find all of our shit thrown out on the front lawn, or find my mom heartbroken and crying.
Whatever this feeling is that Grady gives me is the opposite of anxiety. I don’t get butterflies when he kisses me; I get quiet, peaceful, calm. Less fluttering and more like the steady whooshing of a river.
Some people might find that feeling boring, and I might have too at one point in my dating history. Now though, I recognize his solid, steady presence as a grounding force. A gravitational pull keeping me rooted to the earth.
I lean against the frame of the double doors to the gymnasium and watch as he climbs the few steps and meets the principal on stage. He’s smiling wide as the principal shakes his hand, and it takes me a second to register that I’m smiling, too. It’s subconscious, my body physically reacting in time with his.
The principal pulls out one of those big cardboard cheques and thanks Grady for his commitment to Heartwood, to the Heartwood High students, and to ensuring their future here in their hometown. It’s heartwarming, and I can tell by the expression on Grady’s face that this means more to him than just beating Carter. He really does believe in this, that supporting locals is the way forward for Heartwood.
Grady takes the microphone, and he calls a student by the name of Alice Montgomery to the stage to accept her award.
“How does it feel, Alice? To be the first recipient of the Landry Young Entrepreneurs Scholarship?” he asks and extends the microphone towards her so she can answer. Her eyes are misty, and she clears her throat before she speaks.
“It feels incredible. Thank you. Really, I have no words.”
“What do you hope to do with the money?”
“I want to open my own pet store. Offer grooming services and maybe even boarding. This money will help me with the deposit on the vacant storefront on Main,” she explains.
The Parks. She’s going to apply for the Park’s restaurant. Good for her. Yet another reason why we need to make sure Grady wins at the council meeting. My eyes flick over to where Carter is standing. His face is beet-red, the muscle in his jaw flicking as he grinds his teeth. It’s almost comical that he feels the need to compete with this sweet girl who just wants to look after other people’s dogs. You have to be a special kind of prick to look at Alice up on that stage and hope for her downfall.
Grady poses for a photo with Alice, taken by the news reporter I ensured would be there myself. The camera flashes a few times, Alice and Grady both beaming. My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, stealing my attention, and I fish it out.
Sasha.
I answer as Grady makes eye contact with me from onstage, and I throw him a thumbs up before slipping out through the lobby of the school again.
“Give me an update, Spencer. What’s the sitch?” Sasha says, half distracted. I can hear her typing on the other end of the phone.
“I’m almost at the finish line. One more week, and I’ll have a completed portfolio for you,” I explain in rapidly-uttered words. “What I can tell you is that things are going to plan. So far.”
“Good to hear.” More typing. The smacking sound of her chewing gum. “The recruiter from Mile High is getting impatient. Can you send me what you have?”
“Now? I haven’t—” I stammer. I know that what I have so far isn’t exactly a compelling application. All I have are outlines of plans, how they may impact people’s perceptions of Grady. Nothing concrete. Nothing to say that my strategy was successful in any way. I won’t have that until we’ve won over the council, and even then … I wonder if I could collect some interviews from people in town. Maybe Eleanor would be willing to attest to how Grady has changed over the last few weeks …
“Just something, Spencer. Anything.” She’s more focused on our conversation now. The typing has stopped, and her tone lowers to a more serious cadence. “Listen, they called me today and told me that they have another candidate that’s come forward for the position. They’re getting antsy. I guess chlamydia girl is threatening real legal action. They want to find someone, and soon. There’s only so much I can say about how great a fit you’d be without some concrete proof.”
My heart drops with a solid thud inside me as I take in this new piece of information. It’s the fear I was trying to shove down, the insecurities that tell me I’m not good enough. What if this candidate is way more qualified than I am? Who am I kidding? Of course, they’re more qualified than me. Panic licks at my throat, my breathing becomes shallow. I took too long, and now the only opportunity I’ve had is going to be taken away from me.
That right there is the sobering thought that reminds me of the mantra I have lived by my entire adult life. I am the only person I can safely rely on. And I’m not going to let myself down.
I have watched my mother have everything taken away from her, the rug completely ripped out from beneath her feet because of other people, because of her over-reliance on other people to give her what she needs.
This job was mine. It is mine. I worked for it so that I could secure the life that I need, the one I never had growing up. Where the roof over my head isn’t going anywhere, where I know that I’m coming home to sleep in the same bed. It’s the only reason that I’ve hustled for every contract, every opportunity to make that dream a reality.
“Don’t worry, Sasha. Stay close to your inbox. I’ll send some stuff over to you soon,” I promise, trying to force my racing mind to form a logical thought, one that might actually help me. Eyes on the prize, Sinclair. The final hustle. The last push.
I hang up with Sasha as I hear a roar of applause from the gymnasium. I can see from where I’m standing that Grady is coming down off the podium, his smile still just as bright as before. Now though, mine has faded as he beelines towards me.
He embraces me the second he reaches me. His warmth is comforting, and all I want is to sink into him.
But where I usually feel comfort against Grady, a sticky, sick feeling bubbles up my throat. My conversation with Sasha was yet another reminder clock ticking on this project, and on my relationship with Grady. I’m more determined than ever to prove that I can do this. I don’t need anyone else to take care of me, I can take care of myself. I will get this job, and I will live the life I’ve always imagined. One where I am independent, self-reliant—alone.