Page 3 of Wild Valentine
“Is the artist up for it?”
There’s a pause. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve spoken to him, and he doesn’t want to do the story. I thought, perhaps, sending a woman…”
He trails off, and my heart sinks. I’m not getting this opportunity because Scott thinks I’m ready. I’m getting the opportunity because I’m the only heterosexual woman on the team, and he thinks the fact that I’ve got boobs will make this red-blooded mountain man biker speak to me.
“When do you want me to go?”
Because no matter the reason, it’s still a big break, and I hate myself for taking it.
“Tomorrow.”
Wait. What?
“I can’t go tomorrow. It’s only a week till Valentine’s Day.” The day my mother potentially decides to leave this realm.
He scoffs. “We’ll get you back for your big date. You’ve got three days.”
I haven’t told Scott how bad Mom is. He knows she’s sick, but it’s a cutthroat industry. I’m lucky to have my job, and there are thousands of graduates, eager art fans just like me, who would snap his hand off for the opportunity.
But I can’t go and leave Mom when she might only have a few days to live.
“I’m not sure…”
“A piece like this could get you recognized, Hazel. You pull this off, and I’ll seriously consider you for the senior journalist role when it comes up.”
My mind churns it over. Mom is getting excellent treatment; her last blood work was good, and everyone says she’s got a great attitude. It’s just me and the worry about this stupid Valentine’s Day curse that has me thinking she might pass next week. And if she does fight it for longer, there are going to be more bills. I need all the money I can get.
If I go tomorrow, I can still be back with a few days to spend with Mom, just in case the worst happens.
“Just three days…”
“Yes,” he snaps, getting cross now. “Unless you want me to ask Janey?”
Janey is the intern who’s been working with us for a month. There is no way she’s getting this opportunity over me. If she’s promoted over me, then I’m in the entry level pay position for God knows how long.
I’ll never be able to keep paying for Mom’s care. In the happy event that she lives longer, she’ll end up in the overcrowded city hospice. And I refuse to let my mother end her life that way.
And if she passes, I’ll have funeral expenses and even more credit card debt to pay off.
There’s really only one answer I can give.
“I’ll do it.”
“Great,” he says. “I’ll email the details and have my assistant book your flight and accommodations.”
“Okay, thanks…” But Scott’s already hung up.
I head back in to tell Mom I’ll be away for a few days, and a few moments later my phone pings.
Andreas has booked me on the 6am flight tomorrow to Charlotte, and then it’s a train ride and a taxi from there. At least the Airbnb cabin he’s booked looks cute.
May as well relax while you’re there. he writes in the email.I got you an early check in. If you need anything else, let me know.
I bite my lower lip before asking him for an advance for expenses.
