5. Macey
MACEY
The Burrow Bitches
Ariadne: I was just looking up photos of Aruba. How did I not know it was so gorgeous?
Macey: I already said no.
Kira: The beaches look really nice though
Britney: you know what would look even nicer? seeing noah shirtless on that beach
Macey: Yeah, but then I’d have to be with Noah on the beach.
Ariadne: Oh darn, being on the beach in Aruba….
Kira: For free…
Britney: woe is macey
It was approximately 1:00 a.m. when I finished the article.
Technically, I finished the article days ago. Then Victoria emailed me a long list of changes I needed to make that she expected back by this morning. It’s like she thought I was a robot who didn’t need sleep to function.
The new article followed the pattern of everything I’d written for Roamer’s Digest .
What started off as a funny, quirky, and full of whale-pun work of art had turned into a dry, 2000-word article about the history of whales in Fort Bragg.
Not saying people didn’t care about whale facts, but what they cared about more was what it felt like to attend the Whale Fest.
Everyone wanted to live vicariously through others’ experiences.
It was physically impossible to experience everything in this lifetime—I wanted to hike Mt.
Everest’s base camp, swim with sharks in Australia, and touch down on the moon—but all those things wouldn’t happen for me.
That was why writers were so important. We could pretend we were them for thirty seconds and transport ourselves to any corner of the world.
The last time I tried to explain this to my boss, she laughed and sent someone in my place to the local dessert bar opening. As someone who loves sweets, that crushed my soul. Ever since, I’d kept my head down and did whatever she told me.
When I graduated college, I thought I was so lucky to land the dream job immediately. My mother had been even more excited than me. When I told her I got the job, she sent me a bouquet of flowers so big, I had to buy a new vase for them.
The reason for Lora Monroe’s flowers was less about me getting the job than it was the job itself. She had always dreamed of working for a magazine. Granted, the ways of work had changed since she was young—less print media, more online coverage—but the mechanics were the same.
She never had the chance to pursue that dream, though. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts who had an oopsie baby—aka me—at sixteen. They struggled to take care of me, and while I always thought they did great, Mom chose a stable, less stressful job over her dream magazine job.
I knew my parents were worried I lacked things growing up. Maybe I never had the shiniest toy or the newest phone, but I recognized that the love they poured into me at a young age was worth so much more. They gave up so much for me. I wanted to repay them in any way I could.
But now I was beginning to wonder if there really was something like a “dream job.” It felt like we were all suffering during the hours of 9-5 so that we could afford to live our lives from 5-9. Rinse and repeat, and you have a typical week.
“What are you still doing awake?” Kira padded through our shared living space to the kitchen. “Still thinking about Noah’s proposal?”
“Proposal is a strong word. I’m working,” I answered. “Hey, if you’re making a snack, can I have some?”
Kira returned with a pint of cookie dough ice cream and two spoons. “Don’t distract me with ice cream talk. You didn’t tell us much about Noah’s suggestion the other day.”
“I didn’t?”
“I think you were too busy complaining about how annoying he is.”
I spooned a large amount of ice cream into my mouth. Sweet, sweet calories.
When Noah had first DM’d me and asked to meet up, I almost sent him to spam, convinced it was a bot. Then I saw the blue checkmark and realized that yes, it was the real Noah Hansley asking me out.
Not that it was a date.
My first instinct was to delete the message and move on. But when I realized he might have more intel on the video than me, I thought it would be a good idea to meet up. Just so I could learn what he knew .
I never expected a resort in Aruba to have contacted him about hosting us as members of the press team.
“He is annoying,” I said as I stabbed a chunk of cookie dough. “Though I suppose him telling me about the press trip invite makes him a little less annoying.”
And a little bit nice.
Twirling the spoon between her fingers, Kira said, “I’m still surprised you turned him down. Weren’t you just telling me about opening new doors in your career?”
I dropped my spoon on the stained coffee table and curled my knees under myself on the couch. “Yes, but I only want to open them if they’re my door to open. Not Noah Hansley’s.”
Even though the invite had made me feel a little special. And maybe, just maybe, I took a little satisfaction watching him flounder when I turned him down.
“Fair.” Kira shimmied the fluffy throw blanket off the top of the couch and covered both of us with it. “But you don’t have to open doors alone. Sometimes, the door is so heavy you have to go through it with someone else.”
I huddled under the blanket. “We’re not going to Narnia.”
Kira cracked a smile, all perfect, shiny teeth. “I was scrolling through his posts…”
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. I could make a home under here. Warm and cozy, with ice cream only steps away.
“He’s got that bad boy persona, but I bet there’s more under the surface. Also, he’s hot.”
I lowered the blanket beneath my eyes.
She looked at me and said, “And you know that means a lot coming from me.”
“I’m still not going.”
Kira pulled the blanket down, exposing the rest of my face. “Macey, not all influencers are like your ex. ”
Ugh, just thinking about that situation sent a spiral of anger through me. Considering I was a writer for an online magazine and my ex was a famous local influencer, I should have known from the start that getting involved romantically could impact my professional future.
There was nothing that threw me off my game more than attending events for work and running into the boy who cheated on me.
Our relationship only lasted six months before I found out that he was dating two other girls.
Guess he thought our circles were too far apart for me to ever figure it out.
When I caught him in bed with one of them, I broke it off immediately.
Later, he said I should feel lucky that he had even been with me.
That he did me a favor and helped me get followers.
Never mind the fact I didn’t care about followers.
All I wanted to do was write and maybe publish some photos.
It would be nice to share that passion with someone special, but I learned quickly that influencers only viewed relationships as transactions.
And that they’d only ever view a relationship with me as something below them.
“I’m not sure about that,” I said, blinking away the pinpricks behind my eyes.
Thankfully, Kira didn’t press. “Why are you working so late, anyways?”
The bright screen of my laptop sat on the coffee table, mocking me. “Victoria tore my article apart. I had to redo it before the morning.”
“God, she’s the worst.” Kira resealed the pint and headed for the kitchen. From there, she yelled, “I know you think your destiny is to stick it out and suffer or whatever, but remember when you wanted to start your travel blog? Maybe this is your chance!”
I had considered starting a blog a few times over the last two years. Each time, I managed to convince myself that things at my job would get better. Not to mention, it could be seen as a conflict of interest.
If I had my own blog, I could share any article I wanted.
Put as much personality and whale puns in them as possible.
My photos would accompany my words. I’d be in charge of my schedule and would attend whatever press events I wanted.
It would be a lot of work, but wasn’t I already working all the time anyways?
But…
My column with Roamer’s Digest just increased its viewership. My mom was going to freak out when I told her. A raise was inevitably coming soon. It’d be a bad idea to pivot now that I had the eyes I’d been seeking for years.
“It’s just something to think about.” Kira waved on the way back to her room. “Good night.”
It was too bad people saw me as either the girl from the video or Macey Monroe from Roamer’s Digest , instead of just Macey.
The next morning, Britney already had a shot of espresso ready for me when I walked into The Burrow Café. She was a saint. An angel in the human flesh. I was going to give her a best friend of the year plaque. No, a trophy .
She was busy making someone else’s cappuccino but flashed a smile at me when I approached the counter. “Kira told me you didn’t sleep much. You need it.”
I took a sip and cringed at the taste. People who drank straight espresso were another level of human. I was but a mere mortal who enjoyed milk and sugar with a side of espresso. “Thank you. ”
Britney handed an intern his cappuccino and joined me, a matching shot of espresso in her hand. “Cheers.” We clinked our cups together.
“You look more exhausted than I feel.” I eyed the bags under her eyes.
“Exams are coming up,” she explained. “Once those are over, I’ll sleep for a week.”
A second-year law student, Britney was preparing to practice intellectual property law one day. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Know anything about civil procedure?”
“I know ‘Stop, in the name of the law!’”
Britney laughed and shut her eyes. “That has nothing to do with…You know what, I’ll call you if I need someone to review flashcards with me.”
“Now that”—I checked the time on my phone—“I can do. I have a meeting with Victoria in ten, but I’ll call you later.”
My soul cried when I took another sip of the espresso, but the tired part of my brain sang with pleasure. In the elevator, I prayed to all the grammar gods that my middle-of-the-night brain functioned normally and I didn’t accidentally mix up their , there , and they’re .
I had emailed the article to Victoria at 1:13 a.m. and passed out on the couch after. My neck hated me for it.
I’d always believed that people were good and prone to mistakes. Things happened: sometimes you forgot to restock the coffee, you tipped over salt that was difficult to clean, you locked someone out of the apartment (sorry, Kira).
But everyone was capable of rising above those mistakes. An apology could take you very far. The problem was when people refused to apologize for their actions.
I didn’t think Victoria had ever apologized for anything.
In the office, I dropped off my lunch in the kitchen—peanut butter and jelly sandwich because I was too exhausted to pack anything else—and headed straight for Victoria’s office. She was finishing a call and gestured for me to step inside.
Her office reminded me of something I’d seen in a movie. Giant windows offered sweeping views of the Chicago River, designer furniture like a sleek glass desk elevated the space, and there was a sound system in the corner. Why? I couldn’t tell you.
I took a seat on a plush leather chair and crossed one leg over the other. Victoria hung up the phone and spun around in her chair. “Macey, thank you for revising the article.”
She was…thanking me? Alarms wailed inside my head.
“Of course,” I said with a smile, even though I was dying inside.
“I have your assignment for the next week.” Victoria handed me a one-sheeter with information about an upcoming event. My interest piqued.
If she thanked me for the new article, that must mean she liked it. The article, plus my photos, hopefully proved to Victoria that I was ready for more press trips. Bigger events. I was ready to cover the most exclusive events, like the?—
Groundbreaking of a new parking garage?
Excuse me? I skimmed the rest of the overview. Yep, she wanted me to witness history as city officials took turns awkwardly shoveling dirt while dressed in business casual.
“You want me to write about a garage groundbreaking?” I asked. “This doesn’t even seem worthy of an article on the site.”
“It doesn’t have to be long.” Victoria shrugged, already turning her attention away from me and back to her computer.
My body froze with shock. What was happening here?
“But…why?” Aware that I sounded like a petulant child, I straightened my shoulders and forced myself to add confidence to my voice. “I thought I proved myself worthy for bigger assignments after Whale Fest.”
Victoria paused whatever she was doing on her computer to eye me. “After Whale Fest? You mean, when you embarrassed the company in a viral video?”
I wouldn’t say embarrassed was the right word, especially when it drew readers to my page.
“Macey, I think maybe you aren’t as far along in your development as I had hoped. Think of this as back to basics. Just for a little bit.”
Back to basics?
No way. I hadn’t hustled these past two years just to be assigned to something an intern could do with their eyes closed.
But how did I counter her point without appearing rude or ungrateful?
The words flew out of my mouth.
“Actually, I was personally invited to cover the opening of Opal Serenity, a resort in Aruba.”
Personally may have been an exaggeration, but, well…close enough.
Victoria’s eyebrows shot up, and a strange sense of satisfaction overcame me. “Really?”
I nodded, pretty sure I could see wheels turning in her mind.
After consideration, Victoria nodded. “You’ve never been scouted specifically for an event before, so I’ll agree to it. Email me the details.”
Oh my God. It was going to happen. I was going to attend a press trip all the way in Aruba.
“Of course.” I jumped up, tucking my notebook under my arm. “Thank you, Victoria.”
Thanks for nothing, the sassy part of my brain said. At least I had a good filter in a corporate work environment.
Victoria didn’t say anything as I left her office. I shut the door quietly, making eye contact with Calculator Cal, who got up from his desk to join me in my walk down the hall .
“Did you take my advice?” he whispered as I filled up my water bottle at the fountain.
“Maybe,” I said with a grin. Even though I had to fight for a better opportunity, I knew this would be a chance to prove myself and hopefully scrub the video from Victoria’s mind.
“I knew it.” He smirked. “Knock, knock.”
A snort escaped me. “Goodbye for now.”
When I returned to my desk, a fist pump or two escaped my body. A few people at their desks gave me the side-eye, but my spirit wasn’t affected. I had to text my friends. I had to call my parents.
I had to—damn it, I had to get the details from Noah.