Page 56 of A Fool's Game

Other than the distraction of having to remember what he looks like when he comes, none of that is Ainsley's fault.

But he’s the one standing here, so he’s going to take the brunt of it.

I push to my feet, arms still crossed. Ainsley quickly straightens from where he was leaning on the desk so I don’t tower over him, but I’m still taller.

Looking down on him sends a rush of power through my chest as I take a deep breath.

“In this industry, you move up when you master the level you’re at. You learn that doing the best job you possibly can at the job you currently have is the only way to make it. That way, when you do move up, you know how to help the people below you. We don’t need people at the top who don’t know what it’s like to be at the bottom.”

He registers the shot fired directly at him and his whole useless, spoiled peer base, and I revel in the victory.

“So, we’re just going to pretend you don’t know what my dick looks like then?” He recovers and fires off that smart ass remark, trying not to show that I gotto him.

“That’s the plan.”

“Okay, then, boss. See you at lunch.”

The door slams behind him, and I collapse into my chair, dragging my hands down my face.

I realize it makes me a complete idiot, but I hadn’t exactly considered what this was going to mean for my work life. There’s no way I can sit next to that guy at lunch and pretend I don’t know him. But what would it mean for the rest of the crew to think I befriended his preppy ass when I’ve been blowing off their invitations to hang out for years?

I groan in frustration and slam my laptop shut. Leaning out of my office door, I spot Seth returning from the dining room with empty cream pitchers and shout his name.

“I need to make some schedule changes. Are you good to start working Mondays instead of Saturdays?”

“Uh…um, yeah. Yes, chef,” the kid sputters in surprise, nearly dropping the stainless-steel carafes he’s juggling.

“It starts this week.”

He nods, still stunned, and I leave him there to recover alone.

It’s going to be hell trying to get someone as reliable as Seth to cover that Saturday shift, and I know damn well I’ll be working it myself more often than not, but I don’t mind. The kid deserves to do what he wants in life. At least until the harsh reality of it all takes him down like it does to all of us.

Except fucking Ainsley.

Chapter 20

Taylor

Gem’s brimming with enthusiasm, as usual, when I meet her in the courtyard after work.She’s heading into the final quarter of her graduate program, looking starry eyed at the future. Usually, that kind of thing would send me into a rant about how she’d be better off getting a job rather than wasting good years and tens of thousands of dollars for a silly piece of paper, but it’s different with Gem.

I believe in her in a way I’ve never believed in anyone. Myself included.

“Sylvan thinks I have a shot at any of the publishers I applied to. I’m hoping to hear back from Grey Wolf and Macfarlane's first, so I know if I got them before applying other places.”

Gem’s been doing this a lot lately, only telling me about futures that include internships and dreams in the Seattle area. While those two publishers would be incredible to work for, and both rival the big five in terms of market share, there’s a reason they call the others the big five.

“And the New York houses?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t. She’s so happy, glowing with the new school quarter energy I despise in everyone else.

She pauses too long, doesn’t meet my eye, so when her answer finally comes, I know better than to believe it. “I haven’t heard back yet.”

The silence falls between us, heavy and sad, the way it’s been doing more and more often as we approach this cliff together.

She’s the first college student I met on my first day of work in the university mess hall, offering a kind smile to me when I was glowering into my coffee. I haven’t looked at anyone else since.I was fresh off the biggest disappointment of my life, reeling from the pain of giving up on my dream when it was finally so close I could smell it. I thought the world hated me. I thought I was being punished for something or set up for some kind of elaborate prank by a cruel reality TV show.

My parents’ house, the only thing of value in generations of Blacks, the only way I would ever become a landowner in my lifetime, was in trouble.

Knowing what I know now about the last five years of bullshit red tape, unfair rulings, and no-show contractors, I might make a different decision if I could go back. But unfortunately, that’s not how the world works.

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