“We want to offer you a promotion.”

I hear the news through my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. The walk to Mark’s office has never seemed so long in my life. He called me this morning, as soon as I got in, and asked me to meet him in his office before lunch.

I hate that kind of cryptic shit.

It made me into a hot mess, and by the time I knocked on his door, my hands were sweating and my knees danced under my skirt.

All I could think about all morning was what I had done wrong. Was my attitude not serious enough? Was my work sub-par?

Granted, I haven’t been in the actual working world very long, but I always stay late, always meet my deadlines, and never, never daydream about Charlie Cash while I’m at my desk.

I go to the water cooler to do that.

“Thank—what?”

Mark grins at me from behind his desk. “You’ve been working exceptionally hard, Josephine. Your work here is excellent. We’d like to offer you a promotion to the associate level. You’ll still manage the same kinds of projects, but when manager roles open, you’ll get first consideration—”

While he rambles on, I wait to feel excited.

I wait to feel anything.

I’ve been working my ass off at this job, that’s true. At the end of every day, I tell myself I’m satisfied with what I did. I’m satisfied with my life, I repeat to myself on the walk home. Every day. A hundred times a day. I’m satisfied with my life.

Smile, Josie.

I have to smile, otherwise he’s going to think I’m an ungrateful little brat. Maybe I was, up until a month ago, but I sure as hell don’t feel that way now. This job is all that’s keeping me in my shitty little apartment. And I won’t ask my mother for the rent. I’m done with all that.

It feels strange, but I force my mouth into a grin. “Thank you so much, Mark. It means a lot to me.” Then I lean in and do my level best to crack a joke. “Will I be staying at the same desk or do I move to one of the corner offices?” The joke is that there are no corner offices. The corners of our floor in the building are taken up with meeting rooms and an employee lounge.

Mark guffaws and slaps his hand down on his desk. “Sure—have your pick!” Still laughing, he waves at me to go. “Great job, Josephine. I can’t say it enough. Keep up the good work and someday you’ll be sitting at my desk.”

His words echo in my mind all the way back to my much-smaller office. Someday you’ll be sitting at my desk.

I drop into my chair like all my bones have disappeared. 

Oh, my god. 

That’s what I’m working for.

That’s what all my focus, all my discipline, all my obsessive tackling of tasks is going to get for me. Someday, I’m going to sit at Mark’s desk and call people down to my office to give them promotions or fire them. I can climb the ladder at the credit union all I want, but it’ll only get me a slightly nicer office with room for two chairs on the other side of the desk and not one. 

I can’t do this.

I get up from behind the desk, feeling for all the world like I’m being chased. I grab my purse from the otherwise empty coat tree, pull my office door shut behind me, and bolt for the elevators as fast as my high heels will carry me.

Nobody sees me. 

Or, if they see me, nobody stops me.

I’m outside storming down the sidewalk before I know why. I look crazed with hunger. I look infatuated with my lunch hour. Better not get in her way.

I beat the lunch rush. That’s a plus, I guess.

I put my hand to my neck to make sure my heart is still beating, because I feel dead inside. 

It’s still beating, but aside from a steady thump, there’s nothing there.

I smile again to try and force some semblance of happiness, but I’m drawing a blank. There’s nothing, except the omnipresent ache that hovers over my sternum, getting worse if I give myself a five-minute pass to think about Charlie.

I can’t help picturing what he’d say about my promotion. 

You deserve it, sweetheart. He’d start with a compliment, because Charlie Cash knows how to treat people. Then he’d wrap his arm around my waist and pull me in for a kiss. A kiss that starts slow but burns bright. A kiss that lasts just long enough to take my breath away. A kiss that tastes like ocean and sunlight. 

The urge to talk with him is so strong that I dig in my purse for my phone, even though I don’t have his number. In fact, I’ve never had his number. At Emerald Shores we shared a room, so there was no need to call him or text him.

My cheeks burn with a hot shame. How stupid could I have been? I shared a room with a man like Charlie Cash and didn’t ever ask for his number. 

I could scream.

I want to scream so badly that I put my hand over my mouth. I can’t be the woman walking down the sidewalk in Midtown, screaming my head off.

You know what?

Fuck all this.

I’ve been working as hard as I’ve ever worked in my life to prove to myself that it’s worth it. It’s worth it to be an active participant, even though my sister never got the chance. It’s worth it to have a sense of direction, a sense of control.

Only I’m not getting any of that from my new job. I’m not getting any of that from the hours I spend in the gym every week. A toned body? Yes. But my heart is caught in an endless loop of regret and hurt and a hope that makes me feel worse than anything else.

It occurs to me mid-block.

I don’t want satisfaction. I don’t want another tame afternoon in the office, feeling listless and gray all so I can collect my paycheck on Friday afternoons. 

I want a party.

I want a man to find me irresistible. I want a steady stream of free drinks all afternoon, evening, and into the night.

Most of all? I want someone to take Charlie’s place. To be better than he ever was. To erase every single memory of him until there’s room for happiness to grow.

It’s a fucking fantasy. I know it.

I stop on the sidewalk. If I go back to the office now, I’ll go crazy.

That decides it: I’m taking myself out on the town.