The package arrived at almost nine p.m. that night, after my interview with the Picayune. I opened it excitedly since I hardly ever received packages, especially gigantic ones that were hand delivered by polite, uniform-wearing special couriers. Most of the mail I received were bills, so anything different felt special.

Inside, I found a present: a dozen red roses from Nathan, a VIP badge for the launch tomorrow, and a handwritten note. I’d seen the newest revelation about ‘Marcus’, but I hadn’t received a text or a call from Nathan in hours. I was starting to get worried. His statement that appeared in the monitor’s piece this evening must be wrong. I read over Nathan’s precise writing with a sick feeling, hoping the badge was a joke…

Dear Zoey,

I’m so sorry I rushed off so quickly at lunch. The photo you sent was of a guy named Oleg Kuznetsov, I know you’ve probably already seen the news about it. I hope you understand why I was acting was weird when I found out. I’ve been really tied up this afternoon, so I hope you will accept the flowers in lieu of a call. I just wanted you to know that I’m not intentionally avoiding you. I’m writing this at eight p.m. and am switching off my phone after this to get some sleep before the launch.

You’re probably not going to be happy that I’m going forward with the launch tomorrow. My brother isn’t happy either—in fact, he’s furious with me, so maybe you will be, too. I’m enclosing a VIP badge so you can come see the launch tomorrow if you have time and want to go. We didn’t talk about it, so I understand that you might have other plans on Friday.

I also want you to know that I’m sorry for being a jerk, since I know I’ve not been the greatest over the last few days and you’ve been really patient. I’m falling in love with you and want for us to find a way to make this work. If you’re disgusted with me for going ahead with the launch and think I’m crazy like my brother does, I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again. But if you feel the same way, I hope I see you tomorrow.

Love,

Nathan

I re-read the note a dozen times, feeling like I was riding some kind of nightmare rollercoaster each time I went through it. First, he says he’s sorry for rushing off, then he says don’t call me, then he says come see me launch myself into space, then he says he loves me? Did he really just say he loves me? Maybe he’s just gone off the rails from stress? Who even writes letters anymore?

Nathan was everything I wanted in a man, but he clearly also came with some serious baggage, like the fact his profession involved launching himself into space. The more he let me see of him, the more I wanted, but the more the little voice in my head screamed he was only going to break my heart. I technically had no right to tell him not to launch tomorrow or get in the way of his dreams, but he was putting me through the emotional wringer. He had to know that there was a lot of risk involved with tomorrow’s launch. Marcus-Oleg could have done something we didn’t know about, or maybe the rocket just didn’t work. I wasn’t sure I was equal to this challenge.

Nathan could die tomorrow. What if I loved him? I had no idea what to do with my feelings, or even how to identify them anymore. I needed to plan to deal with Nathan, and fast. Everything was just all jumbled up in my head.

Right now, I missed Nathan, but I needed Nika and her shift didn’t end until ten p.m. I paced around my apartment looking at the two bouquets of flowers I’d accumulated over the past three days and feeling lightheaded. Ordinarily I’d break out the wine right about now, but I was not going to repeat my past mistakes. Self-medicating with alcohol was clearly not a good plan for me. The temporary numbness wasn’t worth the ensuing headache. But, the whole day had been completely insane, and I desperately wanted a distraction. This note was just the icing on top of the crazy cake.

My interview with the Picayune had been successful. At least, it had seemed successful from my perspective. They were looking for a young, investigative correspondent to cover important local and national issues. Someone not too seasoned but not too green, and with loads of enthusiasm and energy. In other words, they were looking for me. I could only hope I’d shown them that. The JuicyNews blight on my resume notwithstanding, I still had a decent portfolio and a great degree. If they gave me the job, I’d work my ass off for them. I’d type my fingers to the bone to do good work again, but I knew appearing desperate would only make me look crazy. I think I managed to come off as professional and poised instead of the broke, starving millennial I was. Now all I could do was wait to hear if I got it.

My other piece of unresolved business, JuicyNews, happened to Skype call just then, granting my wish for a distraction in the most unpleasant way possible. I considered not even answering and just letting Julieta fire me over email for ghosting her, but my professional pride wouldn’t allow it. You’re supposed to resign in a professional way, everyone knows that. Even though I never wanted to work in tabloids again, it was also never smart to burn bridges. I sat down and smoothed my hair reluctantly before angling the camera at myself and accepting the call.

“Good evening Julieta,” I answered coolly, not bothering with my usual false enthusiasm, “how are you?”

“Hi Zoey!” Julieta replied as joyfully as ever, flashing her unscrupulous crocodile smile, “I think you might have sent over the wrong draft of your Angelica feature darling, do me a favor and double check?”

“No, that’s the right one,” I said, smirking and shaking my head, “That’s the one I want you to publish.”

“My goodness, Zoey,” Julieta said, her eyes widening to show a slim ring of white all the way around her pale blue irises, “I underestimated you tremendously. Do you already have the tape of you and Breyer? Going all out in a feud with Angelica Hunt will be a hell of a debut into the public sphere. It’s a brilliant play. I’ve got a manager you need to meet right away- Derek is gonna love you. You’re going to be a star.”

Julieta thought I was doing what? What kind of parallel reality did she live in that she thought I would not only make the sex tape she asked for after explicitly refusing, and then get into a public spat with Angelica Hunt to launch my ‘new career’. I don’t think I would survive a week in Julieta’s world, and I definitely didn’t want to meet Derek. I rolled my eyes at Julieta and barked a little strangled laugh once I got over the shock.

“I think you misunderstand me, Julieta,” I finally answered her, using my most condescending and sharp voice to drive my point home, “there will be no sex tape. This piece is my swan song at JuicyNews. I’m moving on. Thank you for the opportunity to write for you, but it’s time.”

“How much did that bitch at People offer you for the tape? We’ll double it,” Julieta snapped in a totally different voice (this one had a slight Boston accent). Her eyebrows drew together furiously, and her happy persona disappeared like some kind of weird magic trick. Was this her real voice? Was this the real Julieta? Who the hell have I been dealing with all this time? My mouth fell open in shock.

“No one offered me anything for the tape because there is no tape,” I managed, baffled by the abrupt change in Julieta but readier than ever to cut ties. “I’m going back to traditional journalism. Effective immediately. Again, I truly appreciate the opportunities that JuicyNews has provided over-”

“Ugh, save it,” Julieta snapped, “I don’t know what little game you’re running, girl, but if anyone gets that tape but us, you’re going to regret it. You’d better hope there’s no tape. You know what? I’ll run your piece as-is, because if there is a tape, and you pick this fight with Angelica Hunt, I’m going to make you look like the world’s biggest whore. I will smear you into a bloody pulp if you double cross me.”

Julieta’s face had gone beet red, and she was seething with an intensity I’d never seen in her. Her bobble head platinum haircut was literally vibrating, and she looked unhinged. Julieta’s sugary sweet candy coating had cracked and what was inside was dark and deeply unsettling. I wanted to get away from her immediately. She was truly frightening, and I had never been gladder that we were sitting on opposite sides of the country.

“Um, thanks?” I said, still reeling and somewhat confused, “You did hear me say there’s no sex tape right? Because there’s no sex tape. No. Sex. Tape. I don’t do stuff like that, because I’m not a conniving whore. I’m not cut out for the gossip business, clearly, or the business of being gossip, either. I don’t just run around and ruin lives for fun and profit. See you around Julieta.”

I hung up the call and hoped I hadn’t just wrecked my entire life. That bridge was thoroughly and officially burned. Maybe I was going to regret it, but it sure had felt good.