I don’t remember how I got home last night. My brain was in a fog of alcohol mixed with humiliation. What I do remember is the irony of the fact that I once made fun of my sister Olivia for making out with a stranger and now not even a year later, I’ve done the same thing. I guess as much as I try to not follow in my sister’s footsteps, I do. The only difference is Olivia fell in love with her stranger and I was left with the trash. The memory makes me wince.
He rejected me. But worse than the rejection was the look in his eyes. Haunted. Tormented. A look in which it was obvious that not only did he hate what he did, but he hated me for it. As if it was my fault that it happened. As if I forced him. Just thinking about it has my head pounding. What is it with men taking advantage of me? He didn’t exactly force himself on me. I came willingly, but the way he left . . .
It was shitty.
Between my hangover and last night, I need a distraction. Picking up my cell, I fire a text over to Lynn.
You around?
I pray she is. After yesterday, I need my best friend. I need to vent, and maybe scream, and Lynn is the only person who will fit the bill to make me feel better.
Lynn: Yep, Carson is gone all day.
I breathe out the pent-up oxygen I didn’t even know I’ve been holding.
Me: Want to hang?
Lynn: Time and place?
Me: 72 Diner? I could use some greasy food.
Lynn: Ha. Hungover?
Me: You have no idea! What time?
Lynn: One hour?
Me: Great. See you then.
Knowing I’m going to spend the day with her has my corded muscles uncoiling. I need someone to talk to about what transpired at the lounge last night. More importantly, I need a pep talk in how to handle the situation with Karen. As much as I’ve tried to push it aside, I can’t do it any longer. Everything from yesterday has me realizing more than ever that it’s time to grow up.
An hour later, I find myself in a small, dingy booth sitting across from my sister. My head is pounding, and I can barely muscle up the energy to lift my mug to my mouth. Lynn, on the other hand, is grinning away at me as she sips a cup of hot coffee and nibbles on a french fry. I want to smack the smirk off her face. Why did I think coming here was a good idea? The people around us are way too loud. The place is too bright. God, all I want right now is to be still in my bed.
“You know, I’m trying not to laugh at you, but it’s hard. You’re pulling the funniest faces,” Lynn says.
“Why would you laugh at me? You’re my sister, and right now you’re supposed to be supportive in my time of need.”
“I know, but I can’t help myself. Watching someone with a hangover is just so much better than experiencing it yourself. I was feeling miserable last night when I got into bed with my book before ten. But now I’m feeling quite pleased with my decision.”
“Cruel. So cruel.” I wince. “So, what am I going to do about this whole situation?”
“You mean the romantic one in which you kissed a handsome stranger out by a dumpster?”
“Real funny, asshole. There was no garbage.”
“Girl, you were probably so hot and bothered you didn’t even notice the stench.” She winks at me. “But for reals, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll never see him again.”
“Well, he sounds like a whack job. Good riddance,” Lynn offers in support.
I chuckle. “Yeah, that’s one way to describe him. One minute he’s kissing me like his life depends on it, and the next he’s running off in anger. I know I was tipsy, but I definitely didn’t imagine his complete change in demeanor. Was the kiss that bad?”
“I doubt it. I’ve been told by a good many people that you happen to be a good kisser.”
“You have? Like who?”
Lynn laughs. “I don’t know. I just said that to make you feel better. But I’m sure you’re a good kisser.”
“Good to know.”
Lynn lets out a long sigh. “I need a good kiss. I swear it’s been forever.”
“How long has it been?” I raise an eyebrow. “Because unless it’s been over a week, it can’t be worse than getting kissed by someone who runs away afterward.”
She looks down at her food.
“How long?”
“About an hour.”
“Whore. What the hell, man? An hour.”
“Yeah, Carson is really neglecting me.” She grins.
“Stop rubbing it in.”
“Sorry. As for you, the man was clearly delusional. Like I said, he sounds like a bit of a weirdo. Honestly, Bridge, don’t worry about it. You have way too much going on in your life to worry about some sociopath who makes out with you and then leaves you high and dry. He probably can’t get it up anyway.” She brings her cup to her mouth and takes a sip of her brew. “Want my suggestion on what to do?”
“Sure.”
“After this, head to Barney’s, buy a new outfit, and kick some ass.”
“That’s all well and good, but I’m kind of on a budget. Internships and temp jobs don’t exactly pay worth a damn and, well . . . I don’t even have a job at this moment, remember?” I purse my lips.
“Have you talked to Karen?”
“Hell no. She’s worse than Miranda Priestly.”
“Who?” Lynn’s eyes widen in question.
“Devil Wears Prada—duh.”
“Of course, your cultural references will be from a chick flick. She sounds scary.”
“Frightening. And FYI, it was a book first.”
Lynn leans toward me, giving me her no-bullshit smirk. “Here’s some tough love. Suck it up, buttercup, and have the talk with her. At the end of the day, her client was in the wrong, not you.”
“You’re so smart.”
She winks and dives into her plate of fried grease.
She’s right, and I know I need to own my decision. Scary or not, I need a job.
Hangover and all, I find myself sitting across from Karen. The sneer on her face has my back going ramrod straight. She’s definitely not happy.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing walking out on the Axis Agency? You will go back there today and explain this was all a misunderstanding. He’s a legend. The best in the business. I can’t afford to piss him off.”
“I can’t ever go back there. He—”
“I don’t give a crap what he did. He’s the most influential person in marketing. Piss him off, and there goes every chance of getting a full-time job. If he decides you’ll never work in marketing again, guess what? You’ll never work in marketing again. That’s how this business works.” She clenches her jaw while drumming her nails on the desk. “If it weren’t for your sister and Spencer Lancaster, I’d never place you anywhere.”
I hate that the only reason I’m even getting a job is because of Olivia and her boyfriend. I hate that my own merits aren’t enough. But what am I going to do? Normally I’d say something, but in this case, she’s right. I know she’s right. In the marketing industry, securing a job in Manhattan is close to impossible. Coming in as a summer intern, learning the ropes and securing the connections I need would have landed me a job come September. Or at least, that’s what all my professors promised me back in school. Instead, I had to do a summer semester and missed my chance at most fall internships. When I landed Barkly it was a dream come true, but that fell through. My options are limited now, and I can’t afford to burn any bridges. Because as much as I adore my parents, I refuse to mooch off them any longer.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I finally answer. “I’m a hard worker, but not in situations that make me uncomfortable. If I need, I’ll press charges. That’s how serious I am about never returning there.”
Karen remains stone-faced but doesn’t say a word. We embark on a staring contest. I know these rules. The first to break eye contact loses. I refuse. I won’t back down. Grant’s words from the other night replay like a mantra over and over again, acting as my anchor.
You did the right thing in leaving.
“Leave. I need to think about how to handle this situation,” Karen says, turning away and effectively breaking our contact.
My fingers press into the skin on my forearm, the sharp bite of my nails silencing me. The urge to defend my decision is all-encompassing, but I know better. And as much as it hurts my pride, I stand and exit.
I did hold firm, and she did lose the battle of wills, but does it matter?