6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
Ding Dong
At the sound of the doorbell ringing, Golden froze. She was standing in the middle of the kitchen cleaning some old food out of the fridge wearing only a t-shirt and her underwear. Running a hand through her untamed short curls, she quickly walked across the living room to the front door. Outside she could hear the crumple of paper bags shifting. Looking out the peephole she watched as a high school-age boy, wearing a uniform, sat down her grocery bags one by one.
Bless the person who invented delivery service. The Family Basket, the only grocery store chain in Stardust Cove, had its own delivery service before apps were even invented. And now that they had an app and only a ten-dollar delivery fee Golden vowed never to in-person grocery shop ever again.
"Pretty sure the lack of a car was what really made that decision," she mumbled to herself as she ran back to the bedroom and grabbed the pair of shorts sitting on top of her open suitcase. Ever since she came back, she had yet to move her clothes to the actual closet instead of working out of her suitcase on the floor.
Somewhat dressed now, she popped onto the porch and grabbed the bags. Putting the groceries away, her thoughts began to drift. For the past few nights at the lounge, she hadn't received any more flowers from Grayson. Instead, there was just the man on the balcony. Sitting above the light, draped in shadows, he sat in the private balcony of Le Palais for each of her performances.
At first, she thought it was just some random customer. But the more she thought about it the more doubt eased itself in between the cracks of her mind. The person was always alone. The balcony table was a table for two, a popular date night spot for couples who wanted to eat their dinner and enjoy the show at the same time. But it was only ever him. Even with the deep shadows around his figure and the light obscuring her view, Golden knew it was a man. It wasn't just the tall figure and the glimpse of his shoes that led her to that conclusion, it was the stillness of the person. The silent watchfulness that told every inch of her feminine instinct whoever it was on that balcony was male.
Was it Grayson?
Just thinking it sent her stomach fluttering. Putting the last of the groceries away, Golden clutched the last paper bag in her hand and stared out the window over the sink overlooking the back yard. Excitement and hurt swirled inside her, wrapping itself around her heart like a vine. The thought of Grayson watching her performance each night was unsettling. On one hand, it made her want to smile like an idiot at the man she secretly adored all throughout high school coming to watch her perform, while on the other hand, it picked at an old wound that had never healed.
"Mr. Rosebank," her voice strained and shaky as she spoke into the phone. "I…I…need to talk to you-"
Grayson's smooth, deep voice cut her off before she could finish. "Golden, I can't speak right now, I'm getting on a plane. I have to go. I'm sure Gaige can talk to you about whatever it is."
The line had gone dead before she could reply. The silence on the other end of the phone felt like a hammer's strike in an empty room. Turning around, Golden looked at her aunt's still body and carefully dialed 911.
Golden shut her eyes at the assault of the memory.
Isolation was an emotion she never stopped feeling after her mother died. The feeling only ever grew worse when her dad remarried and his new wife didn't think Golden fit with their new family. Loneliness had crept into her skin and ran alongside her veins when she followed her aunt into her quiet overstuffed house with her suitcase.
Golden had tried to fight the pervasive feeling, she tried to adapt to her new life in Stardust Cove and put the sadness behind her. And for a while she did, she beat the lonely feeling always hovering at her back. She joined the school choir and transferred to the prestigious Stardust Heights school despite the lengthy bus ride it took to get there. She made friends with the most popular boy in town, and she even wedged herself into his family and friends. But you can never outrun loneliness. It had never left her side; it merely bided its time and waited. It was there for her like an unwelcome embrace when she came home to find her aunt dead in her chair. But its grand finale was the man she trusted most in the world turning his back on her when she needed him most; the loneliness bloomed fully then.
Annoyed, she let herself recall that painful day, a day she had been actively trying to forget for two years. Golden turned around and threw the bag into the recycling.
"Think about something else," she ordered herself.
Going to the bedroom, she gathered up a pile of dirty clothes into her arms.
"Memo to self, get a clothes basket," she said, eyeing the two socks on the floor that escaped her full arms.
Suddenly, she could hear The Brindisi from La Traviata playing from the bedroom. It was her phone. Cursing, she hurried to the laundry room and dumped the clothes into the open washer before rushing back to her room.
Golden answered with a breathless, "Hello?"
"Hello, Miss Ray, did I catch you at a bad time?" The woman on the other end didn't pause for her to answer. "My name is Malinda Pitts and I'm the director of HR at Rosebank Publishing. I'm calling about the application you submitted for the production assistant position."
Golden frowned. Standing in the middle of her empty living room, she glared at the fireplace trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Umm, I think…" Suddenly the facts clicked and her hand squeezed around her phone's casing. Gaige! He must have submitted an application for her at his dad's company.
Either the woman didn't hear her hesitation or didn't care, she continued right along. "If you are free today at two, I can squeeze you in for an interview. How does that sound?"
Flummoxed, Golden shook her head but found herself agreeing. "Yeah, sure, that works," she replied in a cheery tone she absolutely did not mean.
She was going to strangle Gaige the next time she saw him! Memo to self, she thought, look into any sort of courier service that offered strangulation services.
"Great!" The woman said. "I will text and email you the details of the company and will meet you at the front door of the building at two pm sharp."
Golden stood there for a solid minute after the phone line went dead. With more than a trace of fear, she looked at her phone and immediately cursed. It was currently twelve forty-five. She not only needed to find an outfit to wear out of her very limited suitcase wardrobe but run to the bus as soon as humanly possible.
"Goddamn you, Gaige!" she cursed and ran to her room.
Thirty-five minutes later she was sitting on the bus holding her freshly printed resume in a pink plastic folder. She tried not to think of the unprofessional color. Hell, she had barely been able to print the damn resume since her house was practically barren. Thankfully, the gas station at the end of the block had a printer. If any of her neighbors were looking that morning, they could have beheld the rare sight of her frantic face as she ran like a crazy woman down the street in mismatched clothes and worn sneakers.
For the hundredth time, she cursed Gaige's name.
Why was she even going to this interview? Staring out the window, Golden stared at the passing houses as the bus took the steep hill up to Stardust Heights. It was true, she did need more income if she was going to stay here. Her scholarship at Juilliard certainly wasn't going to transfer to the university here in Stardust and no matter what discount residents got for the local college, the money she made singing at the lounge was not going to cover it. So, yes, she needed a job. But at Rosebank Publishing?!
Her stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Grayson again.
"Dear God, please don't let me see him," she whispered. "Or if I do, let him have turned into a troll or something." Maybe if he didn’t look like a gorgeous Greek God, maybe her brain could just focus on the hurt and anger she had toward the man instead of the polarizing feeling of both infatuation and the pain he caused her.
Maybe he won't be there, she thought. Yeah, right. Logic immediately dispelled that dream. Grayson hardly ever worked at their family's main company, Rosebank Capital Management, with his brother. After he started Rosebank Publishing years ago that was where he focused most of his time.
With every passing mile, her nerves grew worse and worse until she convinced herself she was just going to ride through the stop. Interview be damned. Golden would just reply to Malinda's email telling her how sorry she was and decline the interview. Unprofessional? Yes. But would it save Golden from having a full-blown panic attack? Also yes.
Within a few minutes, the bus pulled to a careful stop. Blinking, Golden looked out the window and caught sight of the four-story Art Deco building across the street. The office building was beautiful and austere with its geometric patterns and sleek lines reminiscent of a bygone era. The rich sienna hue of the exterior exuded sophistication along with the ornate metalwork along the windows and entrance, with angular motifs and intricate flourishes adding subtle touches of elegance.
Without thinking, Golden got up from her seat and exited the bus. She found herself standing on the curb watching as the bus passed her by, leaving her to face her fears. Moments later, all the while cursing herself for actually doing this, she was inside seated in Malinda's office, the soft hum of the air conditioning providing a backdrop to their conversation.
"As you know," Malinda began with a smile. "Rosebank Publishing is a small but dedicated publishing house with two main interests. Our primary focus is on Thorn and Quill , our award-winning quarterly literary magazine,” she added with pride. “The magazine features a curated selection of fiction, poetry, essays, and interviews from both emerging and established writers, poets, and artists. Additionally, we have a small imprint where we carefully select and publish a handful of authors from the thousands of submissions we receive each year. As a production assistant, your role will involve coordinating printing projects, ensuring the quality of our publications, managing inventory, and providing support with pre-press work and administrative tasks. You'll play an integral part in bringing our literary works to life and contributing to the success of Thorn and Quill."
Golden nodded. She had read every issue of Thorn and Quill since she met Grayson in her freshman year.
Malinda looked over to her computer monitor before looking back to Golden. "On your application, I see you are pursuing English as your major. If you are chosen for the position, I think this experience would be perfect for your resume and future opportunities."
"Thank you, I thought so too," Golden admitted. Although she still hadn't officially chosen between journalism and English, she was sure that was Gaige's doing.
"I see here that you went to Juilliard for two years for a Bachelor of Music in Opera Performance." While it wasn't technically a question, Golden could see the questioning look in Malinda's eyes, clearly wanting her to expound.
Golden forced herself to swallow the bitterness that rose in her throat at her mentioned failure. "Umm yes…I…I did study there until I left recently. It just didn't work out." As in she turned her back on a full-ride scholarship due to the overwhelming toxicity of that hellhole and now here she was back in her small town signing up to pay for college herself and go into debt like a dummy, she mentally added.
A look of understanding crossed Malinda's face and she nodded and stood up from her desk, prompting Golden to follow. "I get it. Sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs in life in order to find what you really want. Let me show you around before you leave."
The tour of the place was actually kind of great. Golden got to see way more of the inner workings of the building than she did the few times she visited in high school when Gaige brought her. When it was over and she said her goodbyes to Malinda and walked back out onto the bright sidewalk, Golden let out a sigh of relief. She never saw Grayson and even better, from what she could tell if she did get the position, it would be nowhere near him. The production assistant would work in the basement while he was on the fourth floor. Just maybe this could work.
Waiting for the light, she dashed across the street to the bus stop and sat on the shaded bench. Even the benches in Stardust Heights were fancier than those down the mountain. Surrounded by blue and white hydrangeas, the bus stop felt like a mini photo booth rather than a regular bus stop.
She was sitting there playing on her phone when the hairs on her neck prickled with awareness. Looking up, her eyes drifted back to the four-story office building across the street and up to the large window on the fourth floor. Standing in the center of the window was a silhouette of a man holding a phone to his ear.
Golden's lungs stopped working as she stared up at the shadowed man. She could feel his gaze on her without even clearly seeing his face—it was Grayson Rosebank.