Page 32 of The Writer

“Crystal,” I say her name sternly. “What’s going on?”

“I have an idea I want to run by you?—”

“Then tell me now.” My voice is raised. I’m getting impatient. “What is it?”

“My agency just posted a new position for an agent assistant, and I think it would be a great opportunity.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. Wouldn’t it be cool if we got to work together?”

My head is spinning with what I need to confront her about and this random job proposal she’s dropped in my lap. Why would she even consider me?

“I don’t know anything about real estate.”

“It’s okay. You’d just be my assistant, at first. I could show you the ropes, help you study. You could have your own license within the year, and then we’d be working on the same level.”

I scoff. Even when Crystal is trying to be nice, she has a way of making everything a competition. Her job proposal is ridiculous, and it’s getting in the way of what we should be talking about. The affair with April’s husband.

“Look, there’s something I want to talk to you about?—”

“No, no, no. You’re not doing this.” She marches closer to me, making it difficult for me to move around her. “I’m not letting you change the subject.”

“I have absolutely no desire to work in real estate.”

“Why not?” she asks, hands on her hips. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“You sound like my mother.” I mean it as a joke, but then I notice the way she averts her eyes. She takes a step back. “Crystal, have you been talking to my mom?”

“She has always been so kind to me, ever since college. She reaches out on Facebook from time to time.”

“Oh my gosh.” My cheeks flush with heat as I slap my arms against my sides. “What did she say to you?”

“She’s worried. She doesn’t know what you’re doing, and every time she tries to talk to you about it, you brush her off. Just like you’re doing now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing with my life! It’smylife. Not hers. Or yours.”

“She thought real estate was something you might enjoy.”

“Mom doesn’t care about me enjoying anything. She just wants me to have a real job she can tell her friends about whenthey meet up for their weekly card game. Being a writer and a waitress isn’t sparkly enough for her.”

“It’s not just that,” Crystal says plainly. “She says you don’t tell her anything about your life. She didn’t even know I was living with you.”

“Well, that’s been a recent change,” I say, and one I’m starting to regret. Crystal may be one of my oldest friends, but I preferred her like everyone else, at a distance. The idea that she’s watching everything I do and don’t do, and reporting back to my mother, makes me cringe.

“My relationship with my mother is shaky,” I say. “You know that. I don’t need you getting involved.”

She raises her hands in the air like a surrender. “I won’t get involved anymore. I did think the assistant job was a good idea. There’s a lot of potential there, and in this market?—”

“You were complaining about the market a few days ago.”

“It’s tumultuous, but what field isn’t? You mean to tell me you have more stability with writing?”

I grind my teeth. Knowing Crystal, she didn’t mean for it to come out as a jab, but it did anyway. Always a competition between me and her. She’s recovered and flourishing and will never let me forget it.

“You always do this,” she continues. “Look for any excuse to walk away from something once it gets hard. How many jobs have you left in the past few years? This is an opportunity for you to grow and thrive.”

Crystal makes it sound like I’m the world’s biggest slacker, but she doesn’t know that some of those jobs were ruined for me by the black hearts. I never told her because I couldn’t stand the possibility of another person not believing me.

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