Chapter 11
TUESDAY, JULY 6
“Sawyer?”
Sawyer looked up from her desk to see Johanna standing in the open doorway to her office.
“Did you put yourself on my calendar as my eleven o’clock by mistake?” Johanna asked, her lips pursed, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
“Yes. No! I mean, no,” Sawyer replied, already babbling.
Johanna frowned.
“Well? Which is it?”
“Yes, I put myself on your calendar,” Sawyer confirmed. “No, it’s not a mistake.”
Johanna’s eyebrows shot sky-high.
“And the purpose of this meeting is?” she prompted.
Sawyer felt her shoulders hunch and her expression turn sheepish.
“I’d like to talk about how I’m doing, and ask for more responsibilities.”
Johanna fixed Sawyer with a long look, as though deciding. She tapped her lacquered nails on the metal doorframe of her office, where they made an unnerving tick-tick-tick sound. Finally, Johanna sighed.
“All right,” she said. “Come in and close the door.”
Sawyer’s heart gave a squeeze. She grabbed a pen and pad of paper and scrambled out of her seat. Kaylee looked on from the cubicle opposite Sawyer’s, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and envy. She gave Sawyer a discreet thumbs-up.
Sawyer scampered into the office, closed the door, and took a seat.
“All right, shoot,” Johanna ordered. “I’ve got things to do.”
Sawyer swallowed and took a deep breath.
“I know editorial assistants come and go,” she began. “A lot of them, uh—‘wash out,’ as some might put it. But…I wanted to make it clear that I intend to stay.” She paused, and then added, “Well. What I mean is, I really want this—to work in publishing, that is. I’m committed.”
Sawyer paused again. She felt winded; her tongue felt thick.
“?‘Committed’? You make it sound like a mental institution,” Johanna joked, her delivery utterly flat and dry.
Sawyer laughed and blushed. Then she gathered herself, cleared her throat, and looked Johanna in the eyes again.
“I’m really…” She tried to find the best synonym. “Dedicated,” she said finally. “I’m not going anywhere. Since being hired, I’ve worked hard and learned fast, and I’ll go on working just as hard, if not harder.”
Johanna pursed her lips but didn’t speak. She regarded Sawyer from the side of her eyes. For a fleeting moment, Sawyer worried that, in her effort to be direct and bold, she had come off as overly combative.
“All right,” was all Johanna said instead. “But what’s the point of this meeting? What’s your ask? Preferably in five hundred words or five minutes’ time—whichever is shorter.”
Sawyer drew a deep breath. Don’t lose your nerve now, she chastised herself.
“I was wondering…especially when it comes to Preeti Chaudhari…if maybe I could sit in on author meetings and on author calls? I could keep quiet and take notes or something. I just…want to shadow you, I guess. If that’s possible.”
“You want to ‘shadow’ me.”
It was a word that other senior editors at the publishing house used when they began inviting their editorial assistants and assistant editors along to lunches and important meetings, effectively grooming them to be the senior editors of tomorrow.
“Yes,” Sawyer confirmed. “You know—like an apprentice might learn.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” Johanna replied. She let out a sigh. “You do know that Kaylee was hired before you, though, don’t you?”
“By three months,” Sawyer pointed out, before she could stop herself. She cringed to hear the defensive notes creeping into her tone. “What I mean is…Kaylee knows I pulled Preeti’s book from the slush. She understands how invested I am in this author in particular.”
Sawyer had a flash of Kaylee giving her the thumbs-up just before Sawyer had walked into the office for this very meeting. It seemed possible that she and Kaylee could cheer each other on and both succeed, even buoy each other up. As it was, Sawyer and Kaylee already had a history of helping each other decode the tasks that Johanna hadn’t taken the time to explain. They ultimately made each other more competent, like two students cramming for a test.
“I see,” Johanna replied.
Johanna’s tone was still flat; it was hard to tell if she was annoyed or impressed.
“Anything else?”
“No. That…that was what I wanted to talk to you about,” Sawyer answered.
“Well, I’ll give it a think and let you know what I decide is best with regard to our office’s future dealings with Ms. Chaudhari. In the meantime, I’m sure your desk is full of plenty of things that need doing before the end of the day.”
Sawyer understood: she was being dismissed.
“Thank you, Johanna,” Sawyer said, getting up to go.
“Of course.” There was a pause, then Johanna added distractedly, almost as an afterthought, “You know, usually the way it goes is an assistant waits for a senior editor to call a meeting like this—not the other way around.”
Sawyer’s hand was on the doorknob. She turned back and smiled awkwardly. “I just wanted you to know that I, uh…really want to be here.”
Johanna raised her eyes from something she was looking at on her desk, regarded Sawyer, and pushed her lips into a tight smile.
“Well, good for you for being a go-getter,” she said.
Sawyer grinned and thanked Johanna again. She let herself out and closed the office door—hoping that Johanna’s last comment had been a compliment.
Sawyer was still mulling her meeting with Johanna later that evening when she arrived home to an empty apartment. It was hard to conclude whether the meeting had been an embarrassment or a victory. She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it, but she was glad she’d been brave enough to make a case for herself.
Going through her usual routine, she hit her computer’s power button and listened to the sound of the dial-up logging on as she blotted her face with a damp paper towel and chugged a glass of ice water.
“WELCOME!” the AOL voice greeted her. “You’ve got mail!”
She clicked, happy.
From: [email protected]
Wait—WHAT? Come again? Who is this new friend? I don’t understand. He was RUDE to you at a party, but somehow you decided to go bar-hopping with him?
You didn’t say what he looked like. Why do I get the feeling he’s cute?
You better not be replacing me! Let Mister-Easy-On-The-Eyes know that the Official Best Friend position is already taken. He may be cute, but I’m the one who knows about the time freshman year when you tried to cut your own bangs, not to mention the water balloon fight in the quad when you laughed so hard you peed your pants a little, and tried to blame it on the balloons.
xo Autumn
p.s. Just kidding. A new friend is good. Glad you’re getting out this summer after all. You deserve it!
Sawyer laughed and shook her head, then clicked to reply.
Nick’s not your replacement, she promised. But he turned out to be a pretty OK guy, actually.
She typed in a few more details and clicked send, then sat there, rereading her message and thinking.
She’d decided Nick was a pretty OK guy. Maybe more than OK. The truth was, she was feeling oddly let down that she hadn’t heard from him since the Friday before last, when they’d hung out on the Lower East Side. Of course, it was only reasonable to assume he’d been busy over the Fourth of July—she’d been busy herself. Even if he’d invited her to hang out, she’d have had to awkwardly decline, explaining that Charles’s parents were in town.
But still…the truth was, Sawyer felt like talking to Nick.
Her hands hovered over the keyboard.
Then, impulsively, she opened a new email and typed, Dear Nick, I was thinking about you, and just thought I’d say hi…
She stopped. Stared at it. Then hammered the delete key.
Her hands hovered again, and she typed, Hi Nick, I’m guessing you’re busy…
She deleted it.
She typed, Hey.
She stared at the single word on the screen, the cursor blinking at her as though taunting her to figure out what should come next.
She sighed, irritated, and got up from her chair, did a lap of the tiny kitchen. She rummaged through the fridge and found a beer, popped it open, and took a swig from the neck of the bottle.
She sat back down and stared at the screen again, and at the single word she had managed to type. She reached for the beer and took another swig.
Then, like someone had waved a magic wand, a chime sounded and a box popped up in front of her email draft.
Nikolai70:Hey.
Sawyer almost choked on her beer. She managed to fight off a spit take, then gasped and smiled.
Adventures_of_Tom:Hey!
Adventures_of_Tom:You’re psychic. I was just thinking about you
Nikolai70:I guessed
Adventures_of_Tom:What do you mean, “you guessed”?
Nikolai70:Seemed like the right amount of time for a check in
Sawyer fought back a little smile. Had he been somewhere, fighting off the urge to talk to her, too?
Adventures_of_Tom:Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who has to wait a specific amount of time before checking back in with a female friend?
Nikolai70:That applies to girls you’re dating. And I’m pretty sure you’re referring to something you saw in the movie Swingers
Sawyer reread his response, somewhat chastened. Reminder: this was not a romantic situation.
Adventures_of_Tom:Sorry. You’re right.
Nikolai70:But you’ve been on my mind. I thought I’d say hi.
Sawyer brightened.
She sat chewing her lip. For some reason, she didn’t want to dance around things. She was gripped by a desire to be bold and totally frank for once. Her fingers tapped out the words, and—before she could change her mind—she hit enter.
Adventures_of_Tom:To be honest, you’ve been on my mind a lot. It wasn’t just today.
There was a long pause on the other end. Sawyer wondered if she’d freaked him out.
Finally, a new message materialized in the chat box.
Nikolai70:You should have reached out.
Nikolai70:If you feel like talking to me, you should talk to me.
Sawyer smiled.
Adventures_of_Tom:Well, we’re here now
Nikolai70:What’s on your mind?
Adventures_of_Tom:I took your advice. I got brave and spoke to my boss about being committed to my job, and about wanting more responsibilities.
Nikolai70:Good for you. I think that’s a solid move.
Adventures_of_Tom:Well, it was all because of your advice
Nikolai70:Nah. Any jackass can give you advice. You’re the one who put it into action.
Adventures_of_Tom:I honestly couldn’t read my boss’s reaction. But I still feel like it was a good thing for me to do for myself, either way
Nikolai70:Absolutely. You can’t sit around expecting others to know what you want if you don’t tell them. And you can’t sit around waiting to be acknowledged. That’s the chick way. You have to ask for what you want and demand acknowledgment. That’s the dude way.
Sawyer frowned, suddenly put off, irked.
Adventures_of_Tom:Why is this turning into a debate about gender stereotypes?
Nikolai70:There’s no debate. I’m right.
Adventures_of_Tom:You sound like a chauvinist.
Nikolai70:Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe YOU sound like the chauvinist.
Adventures_of_Tom:How do you figure?
Nikolai70:I’m saying women don’t always ask for what they’re worth. And they should feel entitled to do so. They stand to gain.
Adventures_of_Tom:But you’re calling that acting like a man
Nikolai70:Well in society today, it is perceived as “acting like a man”
Sawyer’s frown deepened with her mounting irritation.
Adventures_of_Tom:I think we should change the subject.
Nikolai70:Alright, you got it
Nikolai70:What are you doing this Friday?
Adventures_of_Tom:Well
Adventures_of_Tom:That’s another thing I was considering taking your advice on. Although, now I’m reluctant to keep giving you so much credit.
Nikolai70:Because I disagree with you about the differences between the sexes?
Adventures_of_Tom:Because you sound like a sexist.
Nikolai70:I thought we were going to change the subject
Adventures_of_Tom:You’re right. We are.
Nikolai70:Let’s get back to this Friday
Adventures_of_Tom:Yes. This Friday. I had an epiphany that I shouldn’t just sit around all alone in my hot apartment. I should take advantage of summer Fridays and get out
Nikolai70:…a realization that was not inspired by me in any way.
Adventures_of_Tom:Nope. No credit
Adventures_of_Tom:ANYWAY
Nikolai70:Anyway…
Adventures_of_Tom:I made a list
Nikolai70:A list?
Adventures_of_Tom:Of stuff I’d like to do
Nikolai70:Cool! What’s on your list?
Adventures_of_Tom:Well…I think you’re probably going to laugh at me
Adventures_of_Tom:Especially because you grew up here
Adventures_of_Tom:Some of the stuff is touristy stuff. Well, maybe a lot of the stuff is touristy stuff. But it’s all stuff I haven’t done, and would like to
Nikolai70:C’mon. You brought it up. Just show me the list already. You wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want to tell me about it.
Sawyer chewed her lip again. Finally, she opened a Word document she’d entitled “Summer Fridays.” She copied the list she’d created, pasted it into their AIM chat, and tapped the enter key.
There was a pause, and Sawyer imagined Nick looking it over. Then a chime sounded, heralding a new message.
Nikolai70:I’m surprised Times Square and the Statue of Liberty aren’t on here
Adventures_of_Tom:Times Square wasn’t, but the Statue of Liberty actually was. But I looked up the price of tickets to take the tour that does Liberty Island plus Ellis Island. Ouch!
Nikolai70:You’re right.
Adventures_of_Tom:Kinda pricey, and the tour is probably overrated, right?
Nikolai70:No, I mean you’re right that this is some seriously touristy crap you’ve listed here
The irked feeling returned. She knew Nick was just being Nick. Still, it stung.
Nikolai70:A lot of this stuff is downright corny and embarrassing
Adventures_of_Tom:Well. Whatever. I’m sorry I showed you my list.
Nikolai70:I’ve pissed you off again, haven’t I?
Adventures_of_Tom:No. It’s fine. I should have expected it. Anyway, I should log off. I have to go
Nikolai70:You don’t have to go. You’re mad
Adventures_of_Tom:No, I really have to go do some work. Especially if I want to do some of this pathetically touristy crap this Friday.
Adventures_of_Tom:Catch you later
Nikolai70:OK. See ya, I guess
Sawyer stared at the screen, waiting, but she didn’t know what she was waiting for. Finally, she logged off.
She sat for a minute, fighting off a wave of irritation and disappointment.
Then she logged back on.
She clicked to open a new email.
From: [email protected]
p.s. Never mind what I said about that Nick guy. First impressions are always right; he’s an ASS.
She clicked send, her cheeks still burning. After a few minutes, she logged out and turned the computer all the way off.
The next afternoon, when Sawyer’s belated lunch hour rolled around, she carried a manuscript with her over to Greenacre Park to do a little work.
She lucked upon a café table pleasantly nestled in a shady spot near the waterfall. She unfolded a few paper napkins she’d pilfered from Starbucks and spread them on the tabletop (Johanna detested stains of any kind getting on manuscripts, even internal copies not destined for the authors), and set the manuscript on top (taking care to weigh down the loose pages with the stapler and a box of staples she’d borrowed from her work desk—she’d learned about the treachery of a sudden crosstown breeze the hard way). Then she laid out the contents of her bag lunch at a respectable distance off to the side, and got to work.
Ten minutes later, she had settled in. She was alternately snacking, reading, and scribbling notes when, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the figure of someone approaching. She looked up and instantly froze.
It was Nick.
He was dressed in a suit and tie, indicating he’d made the journey over from his own office. He smirked at the sight of Sawyer’s shocked expression but didn’t comment. Instead, he approached her table wordlessly, pulled out a chair, and casually sat down.
“What are you doing here?” Sawyer blurted, still blinking at him in total surprise.
“Looking for you,” Nick replied with a shrug. “Well, maybe ‘looking’ makes it sound misleadingly laborious. Pretty sure I knew exactly where to find you.”
“You remembered me telling you about this park…” Sawyer murmured to herself, dazed.
“Of course. I remember everything you tell me. It was a no-brainer. I left the office and came straight here.”
Sawyer blinked at him, taken off guard.
“But…why?” she asked, confused.
Instead of answering, Nick casually craned his neck about, taking in the stone, the greenery, the café tables, the waterfall.
“I’ll admit; you’re right. This spot is pretty cool. I’d have never imagined anything like this existed in Midtown. ‘An unexpected oasis,’ just as you described it.”
“But why are you here?” Sawyer repeated, still confused. She glanced at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Probably,” Nick agreed with a shrug. “But I’ve got a few minutes.”
He reached into one of her plastic baggies and helped himself to an apple slice. It made a crisp crunch as he bit into it. Sawyer only stared at him and watched as he continued to chew.
“You were definitely pissed at me when you logged off last night,” he said. He reached for another apple slice and took a bite. “So I figured I’d come here in person in an effort to make things square between us.”
“By…eating my lunch?” Sawyer questioned with raised eyebrows.
“No,” Nick said. “By letting you know that I’m in.”
“You’re ‘in’?”
“I’m on board with the plan.”
“The plan?”
“Your list.” He sucked in a burdensome breath and sighed. “Someone’s gotta help you do it right. It may as well be me.”
“I’m confused, Nick—what the hell are you saying?”
He smiled at this. Having finished the second apple slice, he reached for one of the still-folded paper napkins stacked under the weight of her Snapple and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. Then he stood, brushed his hands off, and straightened his suit.
“I’m saying: Meet me. This Friday. Three p.m. By Castle Clinton in Battery Park.”
“Huh?”
“Friday. Three p.m. Castle Clinton. Battery Park,” he repeated in staccato. “You can remember that. Don’t make me write it down in an email.”
With that, Nick turned to go.
Sawyer stared after his receding back, still dazed with surprise to have seen him in the first place.
“Three p.m.!” Nick shouted one last time over his shoulder as he walked away. “Be there!”