Page 47 of Semi Sweet
“Find anything good?”
“I might make macarons,” he said, holding up a strange pan. “I haven’t made them since the Culinary Institute of America.”
“Alright, I can test them for you,” I said excitedly. Living with a pastry chef would be delicious, but problematic for my waistline.
“I still haven’t gone completely through the store,” Sean said. “And you have to go to the Rocky Mountain Press tomorrow. If you are holding back because of me, no worries.”
Knowing I probably shouldn’t start my internship in casual clothes, I turned out of the store once more.
***
I was relieved to see most of the people at the Rocky Mountain Press were dressed in business casual. The floral print dress and black cardigan I bought were almost too much when I came to sign my contract. Black slacks and a sweater and I’d be good to go.
“I know I already asked,” Chloe said as she double-checked that I’d signed in all the right places, “but I’m still looking for someone to help our editor in Aspen. She’s very popular and might have to close submissions because she can’t keep up.”
“My living situation has changed, so it might be something to consider in the future once I get myself settled,” I said diplomatically. I didn’t want to say that if they hired me, I would go in an instant because I didn’t want to sound ungrateful.
Chloe Richardson, who I’d learned was one of the founders of the press, seemed placated by that. “Awesome. Please let me know.” She took the papers and put them in a filing cabinet. “Would you like to see where you’ll be working?”
I nodded vigorously and she led me to an adjacent room that seemed like a common area. There were several desks with computers as well as a few inviting chairs and couches. “Our interns and editorial assistants typically work here. You guys go through submissions based on our preferences and if you think it’s interesting or a good fit, you take notes and share with the editor you are matched with. If we want more, you will email on our behalf.”
“I get a say in who gets published?” The very idea felt both powerful and terrifying.
Chloe laughed as she replied. “At the most basic level, yes. If you can’t get invested in it, we probably won’t, either.”
She showed me around the office, introduced me to anyone who wasn’t busy, and even showed me several copies of books the press had released with success before she asked me, “What are you studying at the University of Denver, again?”
“Marketing.”
Chloe looked pleased with this bit of information. “Good to know. We are always looking for new ways to get our books in new hands. We will be sure to keep that in mind.” She guided me towards the front. “Think you’ll be good to start joining us Monday?”
I beamed as I answered. “Absolutely.”
I left feeling energized and happy. Was this how people felt when they actually liked their job? I didn’t stop smiling on the train back to Sean’s place, hoping when the work actually started I’d be this happy and there wouldn’t be some egotisticalDevil Wears Pradasituation. Remembering how Russel treated me, I decided anything would be a cakewalk in comparison.
***
Sean and I walked to the karaoke bar where we were meeting Beth and a few others for her birthday. I hadn’t realized how far away I’d been from fun things in the city when I’d lived with Evan. The bar was only three blocks from Sean’s apartment.
He was dressed in the same black shirt and dark jeans from the masquerade. I noticed when he wasn’t in his work coat, he usually wore a band shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans. Maybe he hadn’t packed anything fancier when he moved from Aspen.
I wore nice jeans and my jacket covered a silky teal top I’d bought at the mall, just in case I ever needed something more than business casual. In the meantime, it worked for the dress code for Beth’s party.
“And I will have a say in someone’s writing journey!” I gushed excitedly. “It’s nuts!”
“It’s nice to see you happy about something,” Sean replied. “They say that means you’ve found the line of work you're supposed to be in.”
“So have you found that?”
“Sort of,” he replied as we waited to use the crosswalk. “Being a pastry chef, absolutely. Working as a manager in a grocery store, not so much.”
“Well, you’ve got your whole store front bakery dream. You will get there some day,” I mustered. I was surprised to find him staring at me intently. “What?”
“I’ve noticed something about you.”
“Um, what’s that?” I asked as the pedestrian signal lit up across the street and we started moving.
“Whenever we talk about you, you quickly change the conversation to me,” Sean said with a smirk. “I’d actually like to know more about you.”
