Page 28 of A Certain Appeal
“I came out of the meeting feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. Meanwhile, Roger was getting back slaps and handshakes in the conference room.”
“And when you spoke up, it sounded like you were lashing out because of the HR thing.” Wickham’s voice is dull with shock.
“It took me a few days to piece it together.” I huff out a mirthless laugh. “At least gravity had the decency to crack my rib quickly.”
My side aches at the comparison. There’s more overlap in that Venn diagram. The shame of overconfidence, of having reached too far, having placed myself higher than I belonged. Of trusting something, someone, I shouldn’t have.
“I don’t know if everyone believed him. There was already bad blood with some other designers because I’d been the favorite. Besides,he was the established designer and he presented the concept. In the end, no one backed me up, so I left. A family friend out here was going through his own shit and needed a roommate, so I moved. I’d never even been to New York before. At least I had some experience with a subway, after downtown LA,” I add, but my smile feels heavy.
“Have you considered getting back into design since?”
“Yes and no.” I run my thumb over the scar on my palm. I didn’t climb for six weeks after my fall. Partly doctor’s orders, waiting for my body to heal. Mostly, it was the hit my confidence had taken. Baby steps brought me back: indoor bouldering, some top-roping on routes I knew well, and after a few months I was back at the same wall, staying well below the damaged shelf.
The drawings I’ve done of Meryton shuffle through my mind like a deck of cards.More baby steps?
“I looked before I left LA. It turns out, a sexual harassment claim and a reputation for claiming the work of others doesn’t make for good reference material. And now, three years on, I’d hardly be competitive. My portfolio’s ancient, I have no recommendations and no internship experience I can actually discuss.”
Wickham nods, looking thoughtful, and his shoulders drop. “Liz, I really am sorry to hear that. I—I had a similar experience. Something that should have been mine was ripped away, and...” He gives me a wan smile. “I guess Ihavefallen.”
“Shitty thing to have in common.” I grimace. “I don’t usually talk about what happened. It’s not like I have a chip on my shoulder about being an admin—”
“Especially with how good you are at it.”
The compliment is a balm. “I’m torn between hating what happened then and not wanting it to define who I am now, or whatchoices I make. There might be something on the horizon, I...” I chew my bottom lip. “Thanks for listening. Sorry I prattled.”
“My pleasure. You have an excellent prattling voice, too.”
“How about you?” I pat his hand as casually as I can. “You said you have some deal in the works?”
He winks. “It’s not locked down. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“You another tech wunderkind?”
He laughs, then talks about getting to know Toby back at UCLA. I am the opposite of surprised to learn that Toby was his tutor in one of their business classes, that my sweet-natured boss “had no game,” and that Wickham’s role after passing the class was as wingman when they went out.
He bumps my shoulder. “So. Toby mentioned you have an interesting weekend gig?”
“Oh?” The syllable comes out sharp. I never know how people will react to my involvement in the burlesque scene. I wonder what opinions Wickham might have—he’s not giving off the Wall Street–asshole vibe, but I’ve been disappointed before.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “He wasn’t being judgmental. I looked into Meryton. Pretty swank.”
My hackles drop. “I love it. I’m the stage kitten, so I pick up what they take off.”
“I confess I don’t know a lot about burlesque.” His smile is almost shy, a far cry from the cocksure swagger he had for so much of our exchange. “Would you mind if I come by some time?”
I would decidedly not mind this. “Tonight’s a jazz show, but if it’s burlesque that has you interested, my roommate’s singing at a revue in Bushwick in an hour. It’ll take about as much time to get there, but it’s a solid lineup.”
“Man, I wish I could. But it’s still work hours on the West Coast, and I have calls.” He holds up his glass. “This should make them pretty interesting, though.” He clinks his glass with mine before we both take another drink.
I wiggle my eyebrows, ignoring the faint disappointment accompanying the burn in my chest. “Just remember to smile.”
CHAPTER
8
“Is this heaven?” I ask.
“You’re blocking the doorway,” says Jane. He plucks my admission from my fingers and hands it to the guy at the door, who wears an MP armband and helmet.
