Chapter Sixteen Goldie
Chapter Sixteen
Goldie
July
“I’m one hundred percent going to get fired if I don’t get off this FaceTime.”
I lean into the fan on the workroom counter because the regular air conditioner is currently being repaired. My only stroke of luck is that the flower fridges work just fine. Since it’s a balmy Boston July, I’m considering shutting myself inside one of them.
“You’re the only one there.” My sister rolls her eyes. “Are you planning to turn yourself in to HR?”
Noah deadpans for the camera from his desk at work. “She might.”
“Hey . . .” I complain before the smile blooms. “Just make it quick.”
Evie laughs, then sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes. “You’re so weird about celebrating yourself. This is huge, Go-Go.”
I hate when she calls me that because I’ll literally give in to anything she asks. It’s what she called me when she was a baby. I’m about to say “Fine” when Noah holds up his finger, sitting straighter in his chair.
“Wait. I have to patch him in.” Evie shoots him a death glare. “Stop looking at me like that, sister of the woman I love. I promised. Killer, make her stop cursing me through the phone.”
I chuckle because this is Evie’s karma. I said I didn’t want to make a big deal about my article coming out tomorrow, and like the good listener she is, her whole plan to make me go viral was born.
And I bet it’s as off-putting as the bloody hand she keeps picking up to inspect before adding more red, chunky goop to it.
“Hey,” I say to my sister, motioning with my head as a blank box with a C pops up on the screen, ringing Chase. “You might want to send Ruth Bader to her chambers.”
Noah smirks as Evie’s eyes bug out of her head before she tosses a bloody cloth over the tank and tries to act cool just as Chase joins.
“The whole fam’s here.” I giggle because my sister acts like she’s queasy. But that doesn’t stop Chase. He looks at who I assume are Noah and me, saying, “Mom, Dad . . .” but then he adds, “stepsis.”
“Stepsis?” she bites likes it’s the most offensive thing she’s ever heard. “What?”
Noah drops his head, shaking it, as my forehead wrinkles, confused. Until Chase nods.
“Yeah . . . ‘step.’ It’d be weird if I wanted to fuck my—”
“Okay,” Noah cuts in loudly, clapping his hands together. “Behave. Our girl is a published queen, so let’s watch our mouths around royalty.”
Chase winks into the camera. Evie revs a drill. Noah continues.
“Eves, why don’t you tell us why you’ve gathered the troops. And I would make it quick because one of us has a short time limit.” He taps the watch I just bought him for his birthday. “And the other says everything that comes out of his mouth.”
I have to cover my mouth because I can’t hide my smile. Sometimes I think I should buy her a really big apology present for dropping a much hotter version of the Superbad bromance onto her lap.
My sister stands off for a few silent seconds, glaring like she’s plotting a murder, before she gives in and lets out a deep exhale.
“Thank you, Noah. And only Noah.” Chase grins wider. “I’ve gathered you here today because we have work to do so our literary genius gets the recognition she deserves. As we know, the article comes out tomorrow—”
Clapping and hollering suddenly interrupt her flow as Noah and Chase give me a round of applause, so I do a little bow.
Evie motions her hands for them to settle down with a genuine smile on her face.
“As I was saying, she did the hard work, and now we do our part. We’re here to ensure the bigwigs at Vision and Vibe buy more articles and maybe even hire her on staff. Then she can stop making subpar flower arrangements and live up to her potential.”
I lift a finger, demanding everyone’s attention. “Full transparency, that’s not how it works. I will not be offered any position, I will absolutely still be gainfully-ish employed at the flower shop. Also . . . excuse you. Subpar? I’m so good at making arrangements.”
I’m met with silence before every head in the other three boxes shakes.
Oh my god.
Noah smirks. “Killer, not everyone is amazing at everything. And that’s okay . . .”
Evie hums an “Mm-hmm” in agreement.
Chase shrugs. “You guys are underplaying it. G, you’re fucking awful. I figured you were related to the owner, and that’s how you kept the job.”
I’m blinking a hundred miles an hour as I stare at them.
“Bullshit.” I wag my finger in disbelief.
“The audacity you three have. Here’s what .
. . here’s what . . . I’ll have you know that I’m so elevated in my craft that it was making Lee, the guy I work with, feel insecure.
They had to pull me to the register and let him work alone .
. .” The last part of that sentence comes out slower than the beginning because I hear it.
Oh man.
Chase starts laughing as I press my lips together, and my eyes grow wide.
“Oh my god,” I breathe out, my cheeks turning red. “Noooo . . .”
Noah scrunches his nose and rubs his forehead as Evie looks off to the side.
“You guys. I’m bad. Like really bad, huh?”
“Yes,” they say jointly before we all laugh together. I run my hands over my face before I smack them on the counter.
“Okay. Evie’s right. We have to put me in demand. Clearly my future is not bright here, even though I’m getting shade.”
Chase points at the screen recognizing what I did with that joke before Evie high-fives herself with the bloody hand she’s working on.
“Perfect. Now that the world’s worst floral assistant is on board, here’s the plan—”
Chase raises his hand like a little kid, but she scowls, saying “No” before continuing.
“—Noah, Chase, you two will buy a shit ton of magazines and leave them at all the coolest spots in town. Bonus points if they’re open to the article.
Me and the ’rents will be commenting everywhere it appears online.
And Mom’s adding it to every single Facebook group she’s in .
. .” Evie shakes her head. “Trust me, it’s more than you think. ”
Noah’s rubbing his hands together like he’s ready to gear up, and it makes me smile. How did I get so lucky? I really like this little life.
Chase grins, leaning in closer to the camera. “Is it weird that I feel like an Avenger on a mission?”
Evie raises her brows. “Yes. But Hulk would really smash this project if he gave out a bunch of magazines at his restaurant. Because for some unknown reason, the city loves you.”
“Are you kidding me?” he barks in that way we all know prefaces a monologue that Julia Sugarbaker would be proud of.
Noah’s brows draw together, his face half amused, because he’s wondering, like I am, where this is going.
I start to pipe up to tell Chase he doesn’t have to put any magazines out just in case that’s why he’s had a sudden change of attitude.
But I don’t get anything out because he does an about-face, walking away before spinning back around.
“First of all,” he draws out, his hands landing on his hips, “from this point on, all my questions are rhetorical for you.” He’s speaking to Evie, and, judging by her scowl, she knows it. “And B—”
“That’s not how that goes,” she cuts in, correcting his grammar, but he holds up a hand to shush her.
“I . . . am . . . not . . . Hulk . . .”
Evie cuts him off again. “If you’re claiming Captain America, then I’ll know I’ve died and am living in a nightmare. If anyone is Cap, it’s Noah. Duh, he’s the hot one.”
Chase sucks in a deep breath like he’s been burned—he has—before he comes in close again and the camera jostles because he’s picked it up.
“Agreed. The dreamy blue eyes alone default to it,” he grits out, instantly making me laugh before I slap my hand over my mouth.
Noah raises a hand like he’s saying thanks, but I shake my head and start pointing down at the camera, trying to tell Noah to hang up, but he’s riveted. He actually leans back in his chair, eating candy as he watches.
Chase scoffs, looking disgusted. “But I am disappointed that the woman who’ll have my children one day didn’t vibe, Star-Lord.”
He grows so serious that I have to mute my phone. I know Noah does, too, because his shoulders are shaking just as hard as mine.
Evie points at the screen with the hand in her hand. “Every conversation with you feels like I’m either on or should be taking a hallucinogenic.”
Chase shrugs. “You make me feel out of this world too.”
Her hands fly up—all three of them—before she stares hard into the camera.
“The chemistry between me and the rooftop is palpable. I’m out.”
Her call ends. Chase stares at the screen in silence before the slyest smile unfurls.
“Did you guys hear that? She said ‘chemistry.’”
Noah unmutes and he’s howling laughing, “She also said she was flirting with death.”
Before I can say or do anything, the bell in the front room chimes, drawing my eyes. I speak over them.
“Hey, I have a customer. I have to go,” I say when I unmute, speaking over Noah’s laughter.
They both nod as I end the call and slide my phone into the front pocket of my apron. I’m still grinning to myself as I breeze through the swinging door that separates the front and back.
“Hi. Welcome,” I greet, before halting in my place and looking around. “Huh,” I say to myself as my brows draw together because there’s nobody here.
I stand there for a second, feeling confused, because I definitely heard the bell before walking to the front of the store. Maybe someone just peeked their head in?
But as I look out the window, I don’t see anyone. There are plenty of people walking around, just nobody out front of the store.
My brows rise as I shrug before I turn around to go back to doing nothing.
The moment I do, my eyes catch on something sitting on top of the glass case.
It doesn’t register at first as I make my way to it, but the closer I get, the more my smile grows.
“Oh my god,” I breathe out, hurrying the last few steps before my hand smooths over the glossy cover of tomorrow’s issue of Vision and Vibe. “No way . . .” I look over my shoulder, talking to myself. “They must’ve had it couriered.”
I smile, remembering how I told the editor what flower shop I worked at during our initial conversations.
This is so cool. I sweep open the cover before scanning the table of contents for my page number, taking a second to stare at the title of my article because it feels so surreal. I bite my lip before my fingers begin paging through.
The smile on my face almost hurts. I can’t believe something I wrote has been published for the world to read. How is this my life, because it feels too good to be true.
A breathy laugh leaves me, euphoria sweeping through my veins as I swipe the page a few more times to get to page 129. But as I turn to it, a loose page lifts from the others, crinkling against my finger and making me stop.
What looks like an old newspaper article is tucked between the busy pages surrounding it. “What . . .” I say under my breath before sliding it out and reading the headline.
Dark Days in Darkwater
I scan it, confused, half reading the first line:
A dark cloud hangs over this small community after five teens are found dead in what officials believe started as a lovers’ quarrel and ended in a massacre.
My brows draw together as I turn it over, looking for some kind of explanation, before I flip through the magazine again, curious if there’s more. But I find nothing.
“Weird,” I say to myself, rereading the headline. I feel like I’ve heard of this . . . or maybe the name of the town. Where have I heard this?
Before the thought can take root, my phone rings, making my shoulders jump. “Jesus.”
“Hi,” I say, sunshiny, when I see my mom’s name and set the article aside. “Guess what I’m looking at?”
“I don’t know, but I just got my orders from the general, so I’m ready for tomorrow. Your sister says this is a foolproof plan for the article to become a virus.”
I chuckle, accidentally sweeping what I was looking at onto the floor.
“Viral,” I correct her, then hear a ding at the door. It’s my coworker back from lunch. “We’re not hacking into the government.”
Lee looks at me quizzically, but I shake my head, pointing to the back before I take the magazine and my mother to the workroom. I only get two steps before I remember I left the paper on the floor, but Lee’s already put it in the trash for me.
“Thanks,” I mouth as I disappear.
“Mom,” I say when the coast is clear, but she’s still talking.
“I keep telling your dad that ‘virus’ sounded strange, but you never can tell with Evie. Plus, I was half listening. Most of her conversation was a rant about someone named Star-Lord.”
I grin, my fingers tapping the magazine, impatient to share my news. “Sounds about right. Guess what I got early?”
“Oh, and that reminds me, your father wanted me to tell you he met a lovely couple at one of his marathons. What do you know, they do birth parent searches. He said they were a real-life Hart to Hart.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
She playfully scoffs. “It was a television show from the eighties his grandma made him watch with her . . . back before smart TVs, when you couldn’t binge or buy your way out of commercials.”
“Okay, great, whatever . . . Will you listen to my news, please? I’m dying a slow death over here.”
She laughs. “Yes. Sorry, go.”
I take a deep breath. “I got an early copy. I’m looking at my name in print.”
She screams, and I can tell she’s jumping up and down. Then, because she’s the best mom ever, the crying starts. From both of us.
“I’m so proud of you, Goldie. My little ray of sunshine. This is only the beginning. Everything starts now.”