Page 16 of Fresh Canvas
Anything.
Despite the scowl, even I could admit that Val Russo was attractive. Like an evil dictator with a built upper body. Thick curls brushed the tops of his brows. Eyes the color of rich earth were fringed with dark lashes. Based on his olive skin, I presumed he had heritage from around the Mediterranean. Greece, or Italy, maybe?
“Are we seriously going to do this?”
I was startled by his rough voice. “Do what?”
“Pretend to go through with this interview, as though you have any chanceof getting this position?”
I gritted my teeth, feigning nonchalance. “Why shouldn’t I get this job? We’ll both agree I’mbeyondqualified.” I shoved my resume across the desk.
Mr. Russo didn’t break eye contact with me as he reached for the resume, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the stainless steel waste basket.
Something snapped inside me.
I was done being nice. Done being the bigger person.
For justonce, I wanted to drop kick the doormat version of myself far away.
You’re not the first man to throw away my dreams.
I stood and gripped the edges of the desk. “Who do you think you are?!”
Mr. Russo looked as shocked as I felt at the words spilling out, before his surprise melted into something far more insidious. He rose like a cobra, slow and lethal, until he was towering above me.
“Definitely not your employer,” he said coolly, folding his arms across his built chest.
“Listen,Mr. Russo,” I said, picking up his perfect nameplate and waving it in front of his nose. “I don’t care who you are. You need serious help. Like,professionalhelp.” The nameplate clattered to the desk as I grabbed my purse. “My deepestcondolences to your new assistant, whoever they are, because it sure isn’t going to be me.”
“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all day.” A smirk twisted his mouth as he casually flicked an invisible piece of lint from his black shirt. “And don’t bother applying to other positions here. I’ll make sure you won’t get them.”
I snapped my gaping mouth shut.
Heat permeated the space between us—pure, unadulterated loathing. The new, reckless version of me imagined the satisfying sound my slap would make across his stupidly handsome face.
“Not that I would everwant to work for a jerk like you, but I will apply foreachandeveryposition available.” I stomped to the door.
“Then you must be even more pathetic than you look. Say, thereisa janitor position available.”
“I wouldloveto be a janitor!” I said, flinging the door open. “Because right now, I would love nothing more than topiss you off!” My shout reverberated in the small office before I stormed away.
Rage shook my body as I let myself out the employees’ entrance and onto The Spiral. Even the beautiful, prismatic ramp couldn’t calm me. Never had I encountered someone so awful. Never had Iyelledat someone so awful—not even Ryan.
A dark side of me couldn’t deny that it feltgood. Like a decade-long itch I finally scratched.
A lighter part of me felt embarrassed, maybe even apologetic, but I was too angry to care.
Val Russo didn’tknowme. Did he treat everyone like that?
I passed museum visitors as I rounded down the shimmering ramp of The Spiral. The sound of people talking and the wafting scent of food made me realize I was starving. An open cafeteria beckoned from across the lobby, and I stalked toward it.
I grabbed a sandwich, a banana, and a Diet Coke, all while cataloging insults for Mr. Russo if I ever saw him again.Plucking a brochure from the stand beside the cheerful cashier, I paid for my lunch, plopped down at a table, then opened the pamphlet.
The sandwich dropped from my hand.
A bubble of unexpected laughter burst out as I reread the wonderful news. Starting in June, the Vanderbilt wing would showcase an entire collection of an Austrian painter named Felix Andreas. I squealed, ignoring how psychotic I must seem to the surrounding strangers.
I was obsessed with Felix Andreas. I had even written my master’s thesis on one of his pieces,Attersee Bei SonnenuntergangorLake Attersee at Sunset.
