Page 43 of Rare Blend
The possibility of a job is exactly the kind of motivation I need to keep going. The holidays are right around the corner, and soon enough they’ll be done and over with. A light at the end of the tunnel starts to flicker. Finally, some good news.
Zoe goes on to explain what happened after they let me go. It turns out Brandon wasn’t totally lying about everything like I assumed he was, and she, along with twenty other staff members, got laid off. And because she’s a networking queen, she was unemployed for all of five minutes before she landed herself at a better company with better pay. Some people have all the luck.
I’m about to say something, to thank her for thinking of me, but she cuts me off.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you, because I noticed you hadn’t updated your LinkedIn to show you were working somewhere else. I figured you were probably still looking. Check your email. I sent you all the details. We’ll talk soon. Okay? Bye, girl. Love you.”
She hangs up before I can get another word out.
A rush of adrenaline courses through me. Soon enough, I’ll be back to my old life. I can feel it.
I’m too excited to continue on with my show, so I FaceTime Hillary instead.
She answers right away, dressed similarly to me and also splayed out on the couch. “I see we both have very exciting Friday night plans,” she says with a giggle.
“I’ll take this any day over standing in the pouring rain, waiting in line outside some club or bar on Capitol Hill.”
Snorting, she nods in agreement.
“I might have some news,” I tell her. “Nothing concrete yet, but there’s hope.”
She sits up straighter. “Spill, tell me everything.”
I repeat the phone call from Zoe.
Hillary claps excitedly when I finish. “See, I told you everything would work out.”
“I don’t have the job yet. I don’t even have an interview.”
“Pshh, semantics. You’re going to get that interview, and you’re going to nail it, and then you’ll be back in Seattle in no time. And then we can go back to have girls’ nights and the occasional brunch. I mean, I know I’ll have a baby, but I still need time with my bestie.”
I should feel relief at the thought of going back home, yet a shot of panic grips me, leaving me uneasy. This feeling must stem from worries about finances and the stress of packing once again to move back across the state. It has nothing to do with the charming little town that’s grown on me, or getting to see my dad again and slowly working on repairing our relationship, or actually enjoying my job at theHerald. I knew coming here was temporary, yet I find myself getting attached. My mother’s warning replays in my head.Don’t get distracted and end up stuck there.
My mom is right. I need to focus and not let my fears prevent me from going forward with the plan. And the plan is to go back to Seattle, where I belong.
Hillary and I chat a while longer, her eyes growing heavier and heavier before we call it and say our goodbyes.
I dig out my laptop from my work bag and see Zoe’s email at the very top of my inbox. It goes into greater detail, explaining day-to-day duties and responsibilities. What really catches my eye is the pay. It’s significantly higher than what I was making. So much so that I’m questioning whether Brandon was underpaying me. I wouldn’t put it past him. The application takes me no time. I’m a pro at them now that I’ve applied for more jobs than I can count.
I continue watching my show, but it feels like trying to read while distracted—re-reading the first sentence over and over without it ever sinking in. The job is everything I could want, so why is my gut telling me it’s not the right move? I wish I could trust myself and my instincts more, but they need to be recalibrated. I trusted Brandon implicitly, and look how that turned out. Evidently, I’m off kilter, and my gut is just as wrong as my heart, putting trust where it doesn’t belong.
The following morning, I’m woken by a knock on my door.
I assumed it would be my dad, trying to drag me on some “family outing” he was hinting at the other day, but instead a tall brunette woman is standing on my doorstep. She looks about my age and like a literal supermodel. Her body is tall and lean, and she has the most stunning light-green eyes. They look like they’re lit from within. She’s wearing an effortlessly cool, all-black outfit. Meanwhile, I answer the door in an Adam Sandler getup.
“Hi.” She smiles. “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”
I shrug. I should’ve been up, anyway. It’s after nine. “No worries. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m Elyse. You’re Marisa, right?”
I’ve become accustomed to everyone automatically seeming to know who I am. I suppose it’s a side effect of small town living.
I nod.
“I’m Ethan’s sister,” she continues. “I was wondering if you have a key to his place or know where he might keep a key?”
Of course she’s his sister. Either the entire family won the genetic lottery, or someone made a deal with the devil. I have yet to meet a Ledger who isn’t gorgeous. It’s bizarre. And how many of them are there?
