Page 65 of Rush
I tried Eliza at Foothold Press first.
“Hi, it’s Jade Forsyth calling for Eliza Simmonds,” I said to the receptionist.
“I’ll just see if she’s available.” I was placed on hold, my heart beating in time with the fast dance track that was playing down the phone. “I’m sorry, but Miss Simmonds is unavailable. May I take a message?”
Knowing she would never get back to me if I did, I replied, “No need. Thank you.”
Hanging up, I gritted my teeth in frustration. Eliza had always taken my calls.Always.
I could go back to agenting authors. I’d done it for two years straight out of Uni. Shit, I’d scored Alexis Storm her first contract, and now she was worth millions. Her books singlehandedly kept Slattery Press afloat. Who wouldn’t want me?
Yeah, that was right. No one wanted the woman who was so good at her job she’d had to resort to sleeping in a stolen car.
Knowing my attempts were futile, I tried the next number—Harry McKay at Scout & Yardley literary agency—and had the same response.Can I take a message?
I called five other numbers and had a range of reactions.I’m sorry, Jade. She’s not in the office. He’s in a meeting. We don’t have anything right now.Bollocks. I would have to go the old-fashioned route—old-fashioned being the newspaper—until I could find someone with a laptop I could borrow.
I rode the elevator all the way to the basement where the kitchen was located.
Stepping out, I saw all the other backpackers had already gone out on their adventures for the day, but British Brian was sitting at the long table, his glasses perched on his nose. He was a fifty-something guy from London, who’d given up his corporate career to travel the world after his wife had passed away. I’d been staying at the hostel for almost a week now, and he was the first person to welcome me. I’d slunk into the kitchen, and seeing how uncomfortable I was, he’d immediately offered me a cup of tea.
I was beginning to understand more and more of Ryan’s perspective on life the more time I spent here. Different people with different views and cultures were really opening my eyes. I didn’t even miss my fancy clothes or my underfloor heating after a few days.
“Jade,” British Brian said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. “Cup of tea?”
“Don’t get up,” I said, waving at him. “I’ll grab some hot water from the urn.”
Finding a spare mug and pilfering a tea bag from Brian’s plastic tub, I made myself a cup of black tea. I wasn’t even worried about the germs on the communal dinnerware anymore, and I wondered if it meant my quest to find a better person in myself was moving in the right direction. Either that or my immune system was developing its own version of an iron gut.
“How are you this fine morning?” Brian asked as I sat across from him at the table.
I shrugged and muttered something incomprehensible.
“That good, huh?”
“I feel like I’ve been slapped back into last century,” I replied before sipping my tea.
“Job hunting going that well?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Worse.”
“I’m finished with the paper. Would you like it?”
“Thanks.”
Glancing at the newspaper, I saw it was today’s copy of theHerald Sun. What day was it today? Thursday. It was hard to keep up now I didn’t have anywhere to be.
“Would you like some advice?” Brian asked, peering at me over the top of his glasses.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Maybe it’s my age talking, but yes, it is.”
“Great.” I sighed and began fiddling with the corner of the paper.
“Some people would say just rise above and forget about those people who’ve cast you aside,” he began, giving away that he’d actually listened and cared when I’d told him a little about my circumstances. “That you shouldn’t bother about setting them straight and having your say. There are two sides to every story, as they say. Some people are quick to believe one and won’t even bother hearing the other before making their judgment. I say, fuck them all.”
“Brian!” The sound of a curse word coming out of his mouth sounded crass and unfamiliar. He was such a proper Englishman.
