Chapter 13 #2
“When this whole thing kicked off, I creeped on Danika and couldn’t find anything,” she’d explained.
“It’s kind of weird, actually. Usually people that hot like to show off.
But Danika is wiped clean. All I could find online was a mention of her from some design school in California, a link to their cabin, a quote from her about a PTA fundraiser. ”
“What about Chat?” Augie had said.
“He won’t accept my friend request! Rude, if you ask me. I saw he only has twelve posts, though, so maybe he just hasn’t seen
the request. That’s kind of hot, honestly. Danny, on the other hand, won’t stop posting screenshots of NHL scores. It’s giving
me the ick.”
Augie told Leah not to worry about it, trying to downplay her disappointment and the way her curiosity was killing her. It
just felt like there was more to the story, that there was something she was missing—something to explain Mrs. Crawley and
Chat’s closeness, why she despised Augie, why Chat seemed indebted to her. The Crawleys had always been sketchy and closed
off, but this was next level. It didn’t add up. Augie asked Leah to keep her ears open, to see if anything else popped up.
Augie herself refused to get back on social media. It would be too hard to face all her old messages and photos, all her New
York musings—all her failure.
Augie used her time off to start on her “Get Your Life Together” checklist—the three-pronged agenda she’d come up with after
New York. She knew only progress would make her feel better.
The agenda was straightforward: First, she would complete a wealth of personality tests to illuminate her true self; second, she’d research cities all over the country and determine where she was meant to live; and third, she’d make a list of entry-level, in-house marketing positions.
Even though all the contacts she’d built through professors and informational interviews in college were linked to traditional agencies, she knew the ad world was small; given all that had happened, she had to avoid them.
She didn’t want to risk talking to someone who would reach out to her old agency, ask for a referral.
It would be too mortifying. No one would want her.
Augie sat at her old high school desk, staring into her three glowing, empty spreadsheets. It was hard for her to focus in
her room. When they’d moved in, Augie had spent months decorating. As an insecure thirteen-year-old, she had wanted all her
new friends to step inside and know exactly who she was—to love her. She’d painted her walls her favorite aqua blue, pinned
up paper crane mobiles across her ceiling, covered her walls in posters of Sex and the City and Monsters, Inc. and the Killers. Now, it was distracting; it all felt so earnest and immature.
Still, Augie was proud that, by the following Monday, a full week after the Fourth, she was about to start on her fifth personality
test—the Enneagram. Leah swore by it, and as soon as Augie scrolled to the first question, Leah burst into her room, as if
the test alone had conjured her. Augie had shut her phone in her closet—no distractions!—and was shocked to see her.
“Do you have me on mute or what?” Leah kicked off her sandals, dropped her purse, and climbed onto Augie’s bed with her iced
Caribou Coffee. She crossed her legs and shimmied out of her blazer, her hair wild around her shoulders. She must have come
right from work.
“You and the rest of the world.” Augie danced her hands over her keyboard and read from the screen. “Do I usually welcome
or avoid confrontations?”
Leah leaned back, fluffing a pillow behind her, sipping her drink. “Enneagrams! You’re gonna be a five. And I think we both
know the answer to that.”
Augie reached for a hair clip on her desk and threw it at her.
Despite the distraction, it was nice to see Leah.
She had been working at the hotel nonstop, and while they’d texted and chatted on the phone, they hadn’t caught up properly.
All their latest conversations had also revolved around Chat and Mrs. Crawley—though they hadn’t discovered anything new.
“Okay, well, I will get out of your hair”—Leah opened and closed the clip like a mouth—“but I wanted to see if you could come
to El Verde tonight. My mom’s friend is in town, and we’re going to the tasting menu. It’ll be fun. My dad is coming, too.”
Augie slumped down, resting her arm and chin along the back of her chair. She didn’t have it in her to face Robin or Wyatt
tonight—to lie about New York while they treated her to an expensive meal. She felt guilty—relieved to have an excuse.
“I wish I could, but I have the men’s golf tourney tomorrow. I have to be up at five.”
Leah groaned. She set her coffee on Augie’s nightstand. “We really need to get you on a nine-to-five so we can make the most
of this summer. At least have some fun.”
Augie turned back to her screen. “I feel like it’d be worse to have two short-lived jobs on my résumé.”
“I’m only saying, it’s not like you have to work all these random Club shifts. I could ask Mallory about a job for you. They
need a lot of help with the new restaurant. Marketing and everything. I bet they’d hire you. And . . .” She grinned. “Well,
there’s one more reason we’re going out tonight.”
Augie twisted around.
“The big news is . . . Mallory finally hired me!” Leah raised her arms in a mock-cheerleader pose, but the moment felt so
forced, a second later, she let them fall to her sides. “From unpaid intern to director of operations. Vague AF because let’s
be real, I do everything.”
Augie hated how her heart sank. She hated what that said about her: that she was so caught up in her own shortcomings, she couldn’t be happy for her friend.
“That’s amazing, Lee.” She jumped up to hug her. “Seriously, that’s great. Congrats!”
“Thanks,” Leah sighed.
Augie slowly sat back at her desk.
“It was a long time coming, obviously. But it’s a good night to celebrate.” She fiddled with the edge of Augie’s duvet, a
new sincerity seeping into her face, which made Augie feel worse. “Are you sure you can’t come?”
“I really wish I could, but it’s going to be such a long day tomorrow. Let’s celebrate again soon, though, okay? Whatever
you want.”
“Okay, yeah. Hannah suggested we go to Eleven for sushi.”
Augie tensed. Leah had told Hannah first? Eleven was one of the most expensive rooftop restaurants downtown.
“Definitely. Let’s do it.”
It went quiet before Leah spoke again, hesitating, like she was about to walk out onto a thawing lake.
“I am serious, Aug. The Harrisons really do need help with the restaurant. They’re shooting to open in a few weeks, and they’re
super behind. I’m sure Mallory would hire you, even part-time. It could be good for your résumé.”
“I appreciate it. But, I’m good.” Augie didn’t want a different job. She wanted to get out of Minnesota entirely.
It was a difficult thing to explain to locals.
Of course, Minnesota wasn’t all bad; there were beautiful lakes and bike trails, a cool downtown art scene, lots of sports teams to cheer for, but to Augie, it felt claustrophobic.
Suffocating. It seemed everyone had lived there for generations—if you weren’t from the area, it was hard to break in.
Aldon Lakes was especially cliquey and insulated.
As much money as people had, they never left.
They liked being big fish in a small pond.
Augie had always felt like an outsider, like if she stayed there, she’d never grow into someone new; she’d become frozen in time, forever the same version of herself.
“You know, Aug, it’s not like this is the worst place to start out. You could still get experience while you keep applying.
I don’t get it. I don’t think you have anything to prove.”
Augie tried to ignore the pressure building at her temples. “I do, though. To myself. Seriously, I’m happy for you . . . but
this isn’t where I want to be. This isn’t what I want to do. I don’t want to get sucked into the Hotel Harrison. It’s basically
the same place as the Club.”
“Right. Okay.” Leah stood, scuffing on her sandals.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry. I really am happy for you.”
“I know,” Leah repeated, picking up her purse. “I just think you could be happy, too. If you’d stop getting in your own way. You need to get over New York, okay? Ad agencies merge, people
get fired. Guys turn out to be Fuckboys. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Leah, I—” Her conscience was spiraling, her lies tangling inside her.
“Look, I’m tired, okay? Work is stressful right now. It’s all fine. We’ll get together later. I’ll call you.”
She left before Augie could respond.
Augie knew she would see Chat at the men’s guest charity tournament. She felt it in her bones, a rare visceral instinct. Though,
at one point, she had also heard Mr. Dryer say Bill’s latest partner in crime was insanely good. Part of Augie was eager to
see him, but she still felt clouded by her conversation with Leah. All around, she felt a thrumming drumline of nerves.
Augie spent all of the breakfast shift watching for him.
She wasn’t surprised they didn’t show. That’s what made the pretournament breakfast so annoying: Despite the staff waking at dawn to set up, most players went straight to the course.
It was only the first event of the day, too; the real party was the end-of-tournament happy hour.
This meant the servers had to kill four to five hours while the men played eighteen holes.
It wasn’t like they got to hang around, either—they had a whole list of back-of-house chores to complete: fill salt and pepper shakers, clean the ice and coffee machines, prep for future events.
Augie didn’t mind the chance to hang out with TC. Together, they went to the ballroom to fold napkins for a wedding shower
the following evening. The theme was Swan Lake, and naturally, they’d requested napkins as birds.