Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
The hair on my arms stands on end. “Like Internet humiliations?”
Alfonso snaps his fingers. “Yes, but it’s opt in for all the contributors. We’re inviting people to tell their own stories. Only if you’d want to share.”
Darius gestures to me, a salesman’s glint in his eyes. “And you have such a great story to tell. Accidentally sending all of the publishing house the sex column you write. Then, Agnes being haughtier than the Queen. Then McGee Whitney Books trying to cover it up. You could even title your essay . . . The Sex and Sandwich Editor,” he says, sweeping out his arm, proud of his title. Then he stage-whispers, “That’s how I pitched you.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. This was a bait and switch. “This meeting isn’t about a regular job? It’s to ask me to write an essay about the day I lost the job I loved?” I ask, doing my best to keep my cool.
“Yes. We’re paying each contributor five hundred dollars,” Darius adds, oblivious to my discomfort. But then, he was always oblivious to feelings that weren’t his own.
Alfonso offers a kind smile my way. At least he can read a room. “Well, we think you could write it with such cheek, since, well . . .”
Since I write sex columns.
But I keep that to myself. I don’t need to throw a hissy fit in front of Alfonso.
Even though I want to ask what he thinks of the fact that his new employee broke the NDA, since Darius clearly spilled the beans.
But why?
“I’ll be the editor, and we think your piece would be a great lead essay,” Darius adds.
There it is. His reason. The simplest one of all. He’s perched eagerly on the edge of the couch because he thought my shame would help him. He shared my name, he told my story, because he wants a leg up on his project.
I can’t truly be mad at him. I’m the one who hit send that night more than a month ago. I can’t even blame the cat.
But I also don’t have to stay here.
I lift my chin. Nothing to hide. “Thank you, but I’m trying to move on from that day.” Then I turn to Alfonso. “If you have any jobs in children’s books, do let me know.”
“Of course. Thank you, Miss Valentine,” he says, studying the floor like it’s so very interesting as he shows me out.
As I wait at the elevator, gritting my teeth, reining in my hurt, Darius catches up to me. “What’s the deal, Veronica? I don’t even get a thank you? I was doing you a favor.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, shocked. “You want me to thank you? Because you broke an NDA?”
He shrugs carelessly. “It was unenforceable once I left. What were they going to do? Fire me after I quit?” he asks, scoffing and revealing the flimsiness of the NDA. Quite clearly, he’s told everyone in publishing the tale of my humiliation. “Besides, that stuff never stays quiet anyway. At least I’m trying to get you something out of it. C’mon. This is going to be a marquee project,” he says, making his last pitch. “We need a killer lead essay, and I figured you’d need the money. Since you don’t have a real job,” he says.
I seethe privately, but then tamp down my emotions, and put on a smile. People who make me feel small don’t deserve my time or my heartache.
I won’t stoop to his mercenary level though. The world is small and reputations can crumble at any moment. “Thank you, Darius. But I do have a job. I’m much happier selling flowers and writing about sex toys and fantasies.”
That’s true.
That’s completely, absolutely true.
Even though one of those jobs will be ending in a few more weeks. As I leave, I purse my lips, holding back my tears.
I don’t let a single one slip until I’m at least a block away.
25
Ace in My Hole
Milo
* * *
When I see Veronica outside Central Park, sitting on a bench, reading on her phone, my first instinct is to wrap her up in my arms. Then tell her Dunbar Loraine are a bunch of jerks. That they don’t deserve her. I still can’t believe they tricked her like that.
As I walk closer, her shoulders tremble. She bites her lip, like she’s fighting off tears. She dabs at her cheek with a tissue.
My heart squeezes painfully.
She takes a breath, swipes on the screen, and keeps reading. She’s trying to be so strong. “Hey, sunshine,” I say softly when I reach her.
Startled, she looks up. She knew I was coming to meet her, but the second I got her text that the interview was a bust, I came early, leaving Zara and Iris to close the store.
Veronica flashes me a sad smile. “Hi.”
I sit next to her on the bench and wrap an arm around her. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I say into her soft hair.