Chapter 5
Pre-departure
Brady
“Want a job?” I let the words shoot out of my mouth.
No, “Hello.” No, “Hey there.” It’s not the speech I practiced, but I’m so shocked he called back and I want to keep him on the phone. I figure it’s the best way to get his attention.
“Hello, Brady,” he says. He always sounds like a radio DJ on the overnight shift.
Deep and gentle. Each word goes into my ear and reverberates down to my foot as I tap the brake trying to slow down my vintage Miata convertible and my racing heart.
I’m driving to pick up my niece from music class, and since I don’t want to accelerate straight into a tree, I signal and pull off the Montauk Highway.
“Hi, Hayes,” I say, and my voice cracks. Real smooth. I’m trying to remain calm. Not only am I rattled from hearing his voice for the first time in a year, but I also need to convince him to do something I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to do.
“You called me. Is everything okay?” Hayes asks. His voice is icy and controlled. I can’t tell if the tone is genuine or manufactured.
“Yes, all fine.” I wipe my palm on the side of my pants and put my car in park. Just hearing his voice makes my body return to puberty.
“What do you mean, do I want a job?” Hayes asks. “At your family’s firm? We’ve gone over this a million times. No way. Absolutely not.”
“Wait,” I say before he hangs up. “It has nothing to do with them. I promise.” I want to draw a clear boundary and let him know my family is not involved at all. “This is legit.” He doesn’t say anything. I try to melt the ice with a friendly question. “What’s new in Alabama?”
“Alabama has pretty much been the same for the past five decades. What is this about a job?”
“Oh, well, uhm…” I hesitate because I want to find the right frame.
I will be 100 percent honest, but I might accidentally leave out a few details to make it a bit easier to swallow.
He’s caught me off guard so the version of me that was prepared to lay out everything with complete honesty and full disclosure is still backstage getting into wardrobe. This version of me is a hot mic moment.
The cars race past me and I try not to be completely obsessed with him. Again. I know he’s already annoyed with me. I can feel my inhale getting ahead of my exhale but I try to control it. This is a purely professional arrangement.
“Spit it out, Brady.”
Hayes always knows when I’m up to something. “I’ve been approached by this luxury hotel chain called For Us. Have you heard of them?”
“Oh yeah, Brady, don’t they have a resort in downtown Eagle Rock?” he says, sarcasm boiling. “Give me a break.”
He’s being a jerk, but when I think back to how we broke up I can understand how he might have some lingering hostility toward anything related to money and affluence.
“The hotel chain’s market audience is…” I am about to say gay couples, but I realize I don’t want to say the word “couples” right now as that will reveal a small detail of the project that I’m hoping to keep under wraps at least a little bit longer.
“They’re a high-end LGBTQ brand,” I say, avoiding the landmine, “looking for a brand ambassador to travel to some of their hotels in Europe this summer and maybe find cool things to do. Mostly take a lot of pictures. Stuff like that.”
“Bon voyage. You’ll love it.” Then I can feel his mood shift. “Seriously, good for you. I know you were looking for something to do. I’m glad.” He moves from annoyance to sincerity effortlessly.
“Thanks. The thing is, I need somebody to help me. Hold the camera and stuff like that.” I’m about to remind him of our road trip, where we worked together capturing content from Clarkson to Chicago, but considering how poorly that ended, I think I should steer clear.
“It’s a dream gig. All expenses paid.” I take a second to fumble with my phone and shoot over carefully selected details.
“I texted the per diem rate and the fee they’re willing to pay.
It’s a sweet deal. All we have to do is hang out at some of their hotels, post a few things to social.
” I swallow hard. It’s hard to get the words out, “Like we did before.” My voice is soft and scratchy.
The posts from that trip were pretty amazing, if I do say so myself.
Hayes holding a strawberry dipped cone from the Stover Diner in Pennsylvania while I licked.
The two of us watching the sunset from the Allegheny Mountains.
I still don’t completely understand how we got on For Us’ radar.
During our meeting Aisha simply said they wanted “undiscovered talent.” They must have seen something in us, or they wouldn’t be offering this opportunity. Who am I to question it?
I’m not sure Hayes even saw the photos. He’s not on any social media, and that’s exactly what’s made it easier for me to let the bot keep posting even after we broke up.
I had his permission. He said he never cared what I did with the images and stuff we gathered.
He said I could post whatever I wanted, whenever.
Those were his exact words. Still, I never told him, and I knew it was a morally ambiguous choice despite the technicality.
I never thought I would be in the situation I’m in now.
I know there’s no way he’s going to say yes, but I had to ask him.
I had to at least see if he might consider it, even though I know he’s going to curse me out and tell me to never call him again.
Though that level of brat is really not his style. It’s mine.
But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, he’s silent. That is his style. Put all the data in little black and white boxes and make a diagnosis, prescribe a solution. I listen to the ocean slamming against the rocks a few yards away from the road until he says, “Are these numbers for real?”
“Yes,” I say. My mind races, thinking he might surprise me. “And expenses of course. Meals, transportation, admissions. Everything. They’re creating the entire itinerary. London, then Barcelona, then…” Is he seriously considering this?
“And we would be done and back in the US before I start school?”
“Yes.” I swipe on my phone to double-check the itinerary they sent me.
I need him to say yes if I want any chance of not having to go to law school in the fall.
With this job I could prove to my family that I am not aimlessly floating through life.
I could show them that a business unrelated to our family believes in me enough to give me an amazing gig for the summer.
But in the silence of waiting for his response, I can’t help asking myself if I also want him back?
I shake my head. Absolutely not. Hayes and I are over.
The “two different worlds” speech from our break-up bounces around my brain.
There isn’t a future for us. If I really wanted him back, I wouldn’t even think about asking him to do this.
It would be too awkward. This is a business arrangement and nothing else.
I hear Hayes cough and move the phone from once side of his face to the other. This is it. He’s going to tell me to get lost. I close my eyes and brace for the rejection.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” he says.
My eyes open. I quickly redirect my shock toward efficiency. “Great. I’ll email you the itinerary and everything you need.” The words shoot out of my mouth as fast as my jaw can move so he doesn’t have a chance to reconsider, and then I end the call.
Only once my phone is down at in my lap do I realize how fast my heart is beating.
Have I just done the best thing I could ever do, or made the biggest mistake of my life?
I have no idea. All I know is that I am going spend the summer traveling to Europe’s hottest, sexiest cities pretending that my ex-boyfriend is still my boyfriend.
A detail I have yet to disclose to him. But now there’s no going back.
Here comes summer.