Page 75 of What I'm Looking For

Maybe I can make this job pay off in more ways than one.

Chapter20

BEEP. Friday, 7:15 a.m.

Good morning, Katie Mae. This is your mother. Just wanted to say that we’re looking forward to meeting your young man and not to worry, we’ll find him somewhere nice to stay. Don’t make any extra plans because we need all hands on deck. All right, sweetheart, we’ll see you soon. Bye, now.

KATE

The days leading up to my cousin’s wedding have flown by. Roland’s back in the hospital due to some further complications from surgery, but he promises he’s on the mend. I’m really hoping it won’t be a problem for me to take next Friday off to go to the wedding. Not too long ago, I’d have welcomed the excuse to skip it.

But now… flights are booked and Alice has lent me a dress so I don’t even have to go shopping. To be honest, the prospect of a weekend away with Will has me fired up like a venture capitalist for a hot IPO. Between the bar, the show and the film shoot, Will’s been booked solid lately—plus I’ve had out-of-town trips—so even our late-night visits have been few and far between. The only place I saw him this week was on the film set.

I’m even kind of looking forward to the wedding itself. If the relatives get too nosy, I can always distract them by getting Will to talk about his movie.

I’ve already dropped the fact that I’m dating a “film actor” to the secretaries at work. Since then, they’ve actually remembered my name.

Maybe it would be the same with my family.

My many aunts, uncles and cousins may know my name, but they have a really hard time remembering what I do or why I’m in Boston doing it. They just want to know when I’m moving home to start a family. As if that’s all I should aim for. I’m having fun with Will, and so far there’s been no opportunity cost to my career.

Which is the most important thing.

To me.

Maybe, just maybe, my family will see that I’m happy. On my terms.

* * *

That afternoonas Steve opens the door of the third new investment group for whom we’re to perform our dog-and-pony show today, I square my shoulders, lift my chin and picture myself as a lioness. Almost effortlessly, a predatory smile lifts the corners of my mouth. Will would be so proud. Turns out I’m a pretty good actress.

My fake-it-till-you-make-it demeanor seems to throw these old men and young turks so completely off guard that they lap up everything we serve them. Steve can’t stop high-fiving me in the car or talking about how big his bonus is going to be this year. I’d be having the time of my life if guilt about the article I read in the paper just this morning about the widening gap between the super-rich and the desperately poor wasn’t nagging at me.

Telling myself for the hundredth time that there’s nothing I can do about it and congratulating myself for a successful day on the road, I climb back into Steve’s car when it’s all over and stare at the chunky black brick in the space between us. “I still can’t believe you bought a car phone, Steve.”

“You mock me now, but you’ll be glad to have it someday. You should try it.”

“Isn’t it expensive to use?”

“What do I care? I expense it to the company.”

I just shake my head. But then I remember that I forgot to ask Will to reserve a ticket for me for closing night ofAll’s Well. I’ve felt bad that I haven’t been back to see the whole thing, but I’ve also put it off, not wanting to go through all those feelings again. However, Will is setting aside his discomfort to go to the wedding with me, so I really should do the same for him.

Swallowing my pride, I say, “So, can I really try using it?”

Steve shoots me a sly grin. “You little yuppie.”

“Yeah, yeah, call me names. How does it work?”

He points to the glovebox and tells me to read the manual. Scanning through it quickly, I find that it’s surprisingly like using a regular cordless phone. Pulling out my Filofax, I look up Will’s new pager number and call it with the car phone’s number. A few minutes later, the phone rings.

“Wow.” I just stare at it. “This is surreal.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

I punch the button to answer. “Will?”

“Who is this?” Will sounds like he’s at the end of a tinny tunnel.

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