Page 54 of Rush
He could forgive me, and then we could…we could be together. I longed for him to the point everything ached. From the tips of my toes to the very ends of my curly hair.
If there was one thing I should take away from all the lessons Ryan had taught me it was the fact I was worth something. I wasn’t my job or my money. I wasn’t the clothes I wore and the people I hung around with. And I especially wasn’t Hunter Ballinger’s doormat.
So I started going into the office later and doing what I could within the hours of nine to five. It was what I was contracted to do, after all. Anything more was over and above what I was being compensated for.
I paid attention to all the small details. I spent more time teaching Juliette and listening to her ideas. We created some amazing campaigns for a debut romance author, spending time building a social media identity that was both unique and beautiful. We outsourced work to independent artists and put together a proposal for a YouTube channel with the view to extend invitations to bloggers and video reviewers to have the chance at interviewing their favorite Slattery authors.
We did some inspiring work, but once I clocked off for the evening, I fizzled and wrinkled like a balloon that had been inflated for far too long. Like how your fingers went all puckered when you sat in the bath longer than you should and your body began to morph into a prune. The world had lost its former sparkle, and my soul had begun to wither. All I was doing was going through the motions.
Two weeks and one day after Ryan had kicked me out, I was sitting in my office staring over the city when Juliette came skipping in for our morning power hour. The power hour consisted of working out our game plan for the week, right down to the last detail, and had been a great way to dive back into work after the chaos.
“Hey,” she said, sitting on the chair opposite mine.
Pushing my feet on the ground, my chair swung around, the view of the city disappearing. I’d been having a lovely daydream about hot air ballooning with a handsome fighter…
“Are you feeling okay?” Juliette asked. “You look tired.”
My soul was exhausted. Jade Forsyth, high-flying marketing executive, had resorted to eating two-dollar cheeseburgers—paid for with the last of the change in her purse—and scabbing biscuits from the office kitchen to survive. Then she went home to a budget hotel room that she was certain had mice living in the walls. I just had to ride it out another week, then I would get paid, and I would have a little bit of money to tide me over until Hunter came home, and then I’d get back on track.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
Just as we were about to begin, there was a knock at the door. Seeing it was the CEO of Slattery Press, Charles, my heart did a double backflip, then a fancy twist in the air before a perfect landing. It scored tens across the board.
“Jade,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb. He was in his fifties, had salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and an air of superiority that had everything to do with him being a man in a suit.
“Charles.”
“When you have a moment, could you come see me?” he asked.
“Once we’re done here, I’ll be right over,” I replied, attempting to sound cheery. “We’ll be about five minutes.”
He nodded once, smiled at Juliette, and then walked away. I watched his retreating back through the glass window as he crossed the office, and my blood began to chill. In all the time I’d worked here, he’d never personally sought me out for a meeting. One of two things was about to happen. I was getting a promotion, or I was getting fired.
“It’ll be fine,” Juliette said, picking up on my distress. “I’m sure it’s just about our video channel. That idea iskiller.”
I loved her enthusiasm, but deep down, I knew things were about to end. It was like karma was coming around to bite me in the ass. Karma didn’t know the difference between being blind to your mistakes or knowing what you’d been doing all along. Karma didn’t discriminate. Bitch-slaps for all!
“The top priorities for the week are making sure the cover art is in progress for the Chandler book and the press release is finalized. We need to get it out ASAP so we can get shelf placement in all the big box stores for release week.”
Juliette nodded, scribbling down notes in her journal. “I can call the artist as soon as I get back to my desk and see if he has the final concepts ready for the focus group.”
“Good. We need to get it approved as soon as yesterday.” I glanced across the office, my stomach churning. “After that, you know what to do?”
“Of course.” Her brow furrowed. “But you’ll be here to see it finished. Then we have another release in a fortnight.”
“Sure…” I muttered, rising to my feet.
“Jade—”
“Can you call the artist?” I interrupted. “I better not keep Charles waiting. You know he’s a grump.”
Juliette scurried from my office and returned to her desk, picking up the phone. As I crossed the floor, it felt like I was taking my last walk on the way to the executioner’s block in medieval England. Except, I wasn’t a queen or noble fighting for a just cause—I was a poor little girl who’d lost her way. Now it looked like I was about to lose the last thing that mattered to me.
Peering into the CEO of Slattery Press’s office, I swallowed the vomit that was building in the back of my throat. Where had the ballsy Jade of days gone by disappeared to? The foul-mouthed, confident woman who’d risen to the top of her game at the age of twenty-eight. The woman who’d had inspirational articles written about her in magazines, and who her assistant looked up to as a professional role model. Where had she pissed off to? I needed her right now. I needed her to help me fight.
I knocked softly at the door. “Charles?”
He glanced up from his laptop. When he saw me, his expression gave away nothing.
