Chapter 8
Maddy
“Please submit your rental payment at your earliest convenience,” an automated voice chimes in my ear. I hang up before the message is complete, and set my phone down on my desk. I’ll get my first paycheck at the end of this week…
And it’s all going to rent. But at least I won’t be homeless.
I get up to go to the ladies’ when I hear someone behind me.
“…she won’t last three months,” says a sharp female voice.
I stop for a minute, listening.
“None of them ever do,” says a second voice, bursting into a not-so-quiet fit of laughter. “No one survives Adrian. He’s a fucking shark.”
I know I should just keep walking but I literally can’t move.
“Wasn’t there a guy who made it to four months once?” says the first voice.
A snort. “Yeah, but he got caught embezzling office supplies. Who needs three hundred gel pens? He was probably selling them on eBay for extra cash.”
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Well, this one’s different,” says the first in a mocking tone. “She’s got good references and she’s peppy.”
The second voice laughs. “They’re always peppy at first.”
The two women drift out of the Wellness Room, hands full of herbal tea, not noticing me, the subject of their conversation, standing five feet away.
I can’t control what other people say about me, I remind myself, trying to recall the months of therapy I had years ago.
I use the restroom and return to my desk. I can’t get those voices out of my head.
They’re always peppy at first.
“Fuck that,” I mutter, and set my jaw so hard I wince.
I work hard through the morning, using anger as a motivator.
The to-do list shrinks, then swells again as Adrian finds another urgent presentation for me to proof.
I respond to every email as quickly as possible, triple-check every calendar invite, and only get up to pee two times.
The second time, I notice that my eyes are a little bloodshot.
But it’s fine. Everything is fine. I can do this.
I can also see Beck talking animatedly with two clients near the conference room. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt, no jacket, or tie. He laughs at something, runs a hand through his hair, and the woman he’s with smiles so wide it looks painful. I drop my eyes to my shoes.
Forget about him, Maddy. It won’t do you any good.
However, as I peer up, he glances in my direction, and I quickly pretend to be examining a printout.
I force my eyes to look away and get back to work, busying myself with anything I can find to do. Because I will not be the girl who only lasts a few months, nor the one that fucked one of the bosses and can’t get over it.
As I’m going through my pep talk, the door of the conference room creaks open. I hear the client’s meaningless chatter as they head for the exit, and then feel his presence lingering over my desk.
“Hey, Maddy.” He says it easy, like it’s no different than running into a neighbor in the laundry room. He leans against my desk, crossing his arms, and I can’t help but gawk at his broad shoulders.
Close your mouth, Maddy. You look like an idiot.
“Hey,” I manage.
He pops the tab on a seltzer. “How’s the morning treating you?”
“Fine,” I say, sounding the exact opposite of fine. I do my best to recover, but only sound worse as I mutter, “Everything’s good.” I sneak a glance up at him again and internally cringe at the amusement in his face.
He watches me for a second. “Caleb said you’re settling in okay.”
“I like it here,” I mostly tell the truth. “It’s just… a lot.” I try to smile, but it feels forced.
He leans back a little, tilting his head at me. “That’s what they all say.”
I can’t tell if he’s talking about the job or the night in the hotel, or both. I can feel my heart rate spike and there’s nothing I can do about it.
He glances down at his seltzer. “If you ever have questions, or, I don’t know, need to sneak out for a smoke break where we don’t actually smoke, just say the word.” He lifts the can. “Or if you want to take a longer lunch sometime. I’m the king of making up reasons to get out of here.”
My mouth goes dry as I hold his gaze, seeing a flicker of something familiar—but not work Beck familiar. “Thanks,” I choke out. “That’s good to know.”
After a few more beats of awkward silence, Beck nods at me and says, “Hang in there.” He walks away, leaving me feeling just as lost as I did when he showed up at my desk.
I exhale and squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds.
The only saving grace is a text from Riley that pops up on my screen when I open them.
Riley: Lunch at Bentley’s? 5 minutes away. I’ll order for you.
I quickly respond and accept, send her my order, and then count down the ten minutes I have left. The moment the clock strikes noon, I’m out before any of the bosses can stop me.
I walk the three blocks to the little cafe, and then step inside, greeted by the scent of good food and grease, which I’m pretty sure is the same thing.
Riley’s already at a table by the window, wearing her signature hot pink beanie and a smile. She waves both hands at me when I walk in, as if I’m coming home from war.
“There she is!” she shouts, drawing the attention of everyone within a ten-foot radius. “I got us the window seat. Prime people-watching real estate.”
“I don’t even care if we watch people.” I slide into the seat across from her. I want to hug her but settle for a weird fist bump.
She’s got two iced lattes on the table already. “You look like you need caffeine,” she says, pushing one toward me. “Like you’ve been staring at a screen all morning.” She makes a face. “But I guess that’s the perks of being an artist for me. I get covered in paint, you get… brain rot.”
“Um, okay… Thanks?” I grin, then take a giant gulp and nearly choke. “But actually, I think things are going okay. Day four, and I’m still employed.”
Riley snorts. “Congrats.” She then leans in. “What about the hot hotel hookup boss? Is he still ignoring you?”
“Beck?” I try to say it casually, but Riley totally knows the deal. “We’ve reached a state of mutual denial, I think. He did say that we could take a smoke break, and not smoke?”
“Oh god, does that mean hook up?” She cackles, and before I can respond, she immediately blurts out the next thing. “Okay, so, I have the best news. You ready?”
I raise my brows and take another sip of my latte. “No, but hit me anyway.”
She pulls out her phone, taps open the photos and shoves it across the table. “We’re moving in together. Look at this place.”
At first, I think it’s a joke. The apartment in the picture looks like a hotel suite with light gray walls, huge windows, and screams of luxury. There’s a huge pool. There’s a really nice gym. There’s even a rooftop with a fire pit and one of those dog-friendly fake grass areas.
“Um…” I stare at the photo, then at Riley. “How the hell would we afford that?”
She grins. “I toured it yesterday. It’s half a mile from your office, three blocks from my studio, and the rent is only slightly soul-crushing if we split it. Also, look at the amenities!” She scrolls through the pictures—a library with real books, a yoga studio, an espresso bar in the lobby.
I don’t know what to say. I want to say yes so badly that the word is burning a hole in my tongue. But then I remember my bank account, my panic attacks, the fact that I have made it exactly four days at my new job and could be fired at any moment for fucking one-third of the bosses.
Riley’s face falls. “You hate it? Ugh. Just tell me if you hate it.”
“No!” I shake my head. “It’s amazing. It’s just… are you sure you want to live with me?”
She laughs so hard she snorts. “Please. We survived two years as dorm roommates. You think I can’t handle your weird sleep habits and emergency cheese stashes?”
“I stopped doing that,” I lie.
“Whatever. The point is, I need to get out of my shoebox of a place before I die of claustrophobia. And you need to get out of that deathtrap apartment that costs three times more than it should.”
I stare at the pictures on her phone again. “What’s the catch?”
Riley breaks into a huge grin. “The catch is, we have to sign by Monday to get the discount. And we need first month, and security up front. I’ve got my half saved. I figured with your new job, you could swing it. If you can’t… I can cover you.”
She says it so matter-of-factly, even though she knows about my financial panic spreadsheet and the fact that I’m still eating Raman noodles most nights.
“You know what, I’ll just cover it. You pay me back.” Riley bumps her cup into mine. “Let’s just do this.”
My chest tightens, but this time it’s not from anxiety. It’s from the intoxicating rush of things possibly getting better.
I look at Riley, who’s practically bouncing in her seat. “You really want to do this?”
She nods, so fast her braids whip around. “Yes. Absolutely. This is going to be so good for us. I promise.”
“You know what?” I breathe out. “Okay. Tell me when and where, and let’s give it a look.”
“Ah!” Riley squeals. “Yes! I already set an appointment for Friday evening!”
I smile, but as excited as I am, I already feel the increased pressure. If I sign a lease for a place that I can only afford because of this new salary…
That means I really can’t get fired.