by Laina Turner
What I really had a passion for, ever since I was a freckled little girl, was writing. This was prior to wanting to be a ball-busting CEO. I received my first diary as a present, on my twelfth birthday and found great enjoyment in filling up those creamy white pages with scribble—insignificant to anyone but me. I wrote every day after school for years, cherishing my diary, filling it with my private thoughts, and later, stories I lost myself in. It was the one place I ever felt I could truly be honest. As the only girl, I had grown up with a wild and vivid imagination. At age eight, I thought the Incredible Hulk lived in my closet and was there to protect me. At age fourteen, I was convinced I would be the next great American novelist or at least a great romance writer. Sneaking my mom’s Danielle Steele books and, later, Jackie Collins, taught me a lot—even if I didn’t understand a lot of what was in those books then or now. That could be why my last boyfriend told me that my expectations were too high and that life was not a romance novel. Screw him I thought, he should have been better in bed. I desired the romance-novel scenes.
Being a writer or working at Kentucky Fried Chicken (as that was my favorite restaurant as a little kid) were my goals as a young girl. In light of recent events, maybe Kentucky Fried Chicken wouldn’t have been that bad. At least there, you probably got free food and I couldn’t see the manager wanting sexual favors—who would want to work there so bad that they’d do sexual favors?
I still wrote a lot as an adult, but had never been brave enough to share my writing with anyone else. It was too personal. I was always too afraid. That’s why I was completely shocked last week when, at happy hour at Muldoon’s Pub, my friend, Trevor Jameson, who just happened to be the editor of a new online magazine called Our World, offered me a job to write a column for the human profile section of his magazine. Each month the magazine did a story on someone, as he put it, “of interest.” Personally, I described it as a piece on someone in the headlines that would attract readers. Even though Our World was supposed to be a serious magazine, people liked sensationalism. That’s what helped attract readers. Of course, I would never say that to Trevor; after all, he was my friend. Trevor told me that the column’s writer told him she wasn’t coming back from maternity leave, and he needed someone right away. At the time, I laughed it off, telling Trevor I wasn’t possibly qualified to write, and the column didn’t pay enough to allow me to quit my day job, although secretly inside, I was just dying to take advantage of the opportunity, if only I didn’t have such a bad shopping habit that kept my credit cards maxed out. Was that why I snapped today? Since last week, all I had been thinking about was Trevor’s offer and how frustrated I was that I couldn’t take it. I became increasingly unhappy at work and less tolerant, spending more time trying to figure out what I really wanted out of life. Granted, Trevor’s was a small magazine, but it was something. Maybe being fired was a sign. Maybe the forces were telling me I should take this opportunity. Maybe this was my fate, to be a starving writer sacrificing for my craft because I could handle starving? Let’s do this, I thought. Excitedly, and before I could fully realize the consequences of my actions, I dialed Trevor’s number at work. Then I panicked a little. What was I thinking? I was just about to hang up when he answered.
“Hello, this is Trevor.”
Shit, I thought, I couldn’t hang up now. What if he had caller I.D. at the office?
“Hello?” he said again.
“Hey, Trevor. It’s Presley.”
“Hey, girl! What’s up? Did you call to meet for lunch, because if so I am swamped today and don’t think I can swing it. I think I am free tomorrow. Let me check.” I heard him rustling papers in his desk.
“No, actually, that’s not why I called. Remember last week at Muldoon’s when you mentioned the job opening you had for your human-interest column? Well, I wanted to see if that was still open.”
There was a brief pause on the other end and all of a sudden bad thoughts started running through my head. What if he only offered me the job because he thought I would never do it? Maybe it had been the Martinis talking; Trevor was a bit of a lightweight. What if he regretted saying it altogether and had been thankful that I had turned it down? I was just about to try to back my way out of the call and pretend I was kidding so I didn’t feel like an idiot, when Trevor finally responded.
“Presley, I think that’s great. But what changed your mind? You seemed so sure you didn’t want to do this because you know I can hardly pay anything for this position.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just didn’t think I could afford to, but all that’s changed. I was fired. So my day job is no longer an obstacle and some money is better than none,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, although honestly it wasn’t taking much effort since I really wasn’t bothered by losing my job, just bothered about being unemployed with no money. Maybe, if I were lucky, that would soon be changing to employed with no money.
“Good for you, Pres! You said you hated that job anyway. Well, let me fill you in on the details.”
******
I got off the phone so elated, I wanted to do cartwheels. This was my chance, my big break to be a writer. Even if it was for a small online magazine, it was a start. The story was to be about Senator Tom Daniels, an up-and-comer in the political arena who many felt should run for president in the next election. Coincidently, he happened to be from my hometown, Alkon, Illinois. I didn’t particularly like Senator Daniels; or rather, it was his view on politics I didn’t like. Who was I kidding? I really didn’t care much about politics one way or another. I just tried to fake it in certain social settings so I wouldn’t seem so shallow, which Trevor knew, so he must have been desperate to ask me. However, what I had heard about Senator Daniels, both in the paper and from my parents, wasn’t always favorable. There was suspicion that he cheated on his wife and one instance of being accused of taking bribes. Nothing had ever been proven in either of these instances, but it still hung over his head. However, for a politician this type of stuff was normal, so it faded away quickly.
When Trevor first offered this writing job to me, I was excited and accepted the assignment without hesitation. When I had ten minutes to think about it, I wondered what I had been thinking. I wasn’t a writer, and I certainly wasn’t a political writer. Arg! I was much more of a People or OK magazine gal. Sometimes I should really think about things before committing to them. I tended to leap into things without thinking them through. My motto was always “I’ll figure it out later” or “It’ll work out in the end,” whichever best applied to the situation. In addition, when I got excited about something, I tended to not think objectively, which wasn’t always a smart thing.
I stood looking at the antique gilded mirror in my foyer, as if it would tell me something, hoping for some kind of confirmation—confirmation that I wasn’t completely crazy and that this job wasn’t completely over my head. Luckily, there was no answer back that might confirm that I was truly crazy. Just the reflection of an average height, red-haired, hazel-eyed, thirty three year old, in a killer outfit, who was currently unemployed. What the hell. I had savings I could live off for a month or two, if I really sucked at this. If I limited myself to one box of macaroni and cheese a day and gave up my gym membership (not a great sacrifice), I might even make it three months. Turning sideways in the mirror, I stuck out my tongue at the reflection. I could stand to lose a few pounds, so maybe cutting back to one meal a day would have multiple benefits. As I stood there criticizing my reflection, the phone rang.
According to caller I.D., it was Tonya, my co-worker, or rather my former co-worker. Tonya was in a meeting today when I had my meeting with David Ritter. However, since she was calling me, and I had only been home for a little while, it seemed safe to assume that Tonya had heard through the gossip chain what happened. She was probably mad I hadn’t called her already.
“Hello.”
“Presley, did you really tell David Ritter to fuck himself and then dump coffee on him?” To
nya practically yelled into the phone. She then lowered her voice to a whisper. Probably so others in the office wouldn’t know she was talking to me. Funny how some people felt that being canned was contagious. “I can’t believe it. It’s about time he got what he deserved,” she continued, not even waiting for me to answer. “Everyone here was so glad he finally got what was coming to him.”
I started laughing. “Unfortunately, the rumor mill got it right this time. I figured he had a better chance with my suggestion than getting me to do it. I thought I was just helping him out. However, I’m not sure that he got hurt in this. He still has a job.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! He came on to you again. Why does he have such a hard time remembering he’s married? And you’re not interested,” Tonya said. “I thought you made it clear to that idiot the last time he came on to you. Did he not learn anything from the last sexual harassment case brought against him?”
“Well,” I said wryly, “obviously no one had ever explained to him that ‘no’ means ‘no.’ Today he clearly thought that ‘no’ meant ‘yes.’ He was arrogant enough to think I wanted to keep my job bad enough to sleep with him for it.”
“You mean you didn’t?” Tonya deadpanned.
“Ha-ha. Thought my skills spoke for themselves.” Unfortunately, for me, the skills my ex-boss was interested in extended past those of the HR nature. “So, do you suppose that I’m no longer a candidate for that Junior VP position?” I asked sarcastically, plopping down on my tan queen-sized Pottery Barn couch and putting my feet up on the matching ottoman. This was my favorite position for talking on the phone. This couch had been an expensive purchase, but I had never regretted it because it was the most comfortable couch I had ever sat on.
“You think?” said Tonya. “According to my sources, you aren’t even welcome in the building. Somehow Ritter has been able to spin the situation so you look like the bad guy and he looks like the good guy.” While not surprising after today’s events, I was still hurt that all those years of hard work were down the tubes just like that. I now felt I had nothing to show for it. Not to mention that in business, it was a small world. I would be lucky if the local drycleaners in Iowa hadn’t heard the story by now. I didn’t want to be blackballed, even if I didn’t decide to go back into the business world.
“What? Is he really scared of me that much?” I asked. Although I had every right to file a lawsuit against him, I really didn’t relish what a lawsuit would entail, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. I needed to really think about the next steps. I didn’t want him to do this to anyone else.
“Honestly, I think the Board of Directors are more afraid you will come back and cause a ruckus, then slap them with a sexual harassment lawsuit. I know Gary had an emergency meeting with them,” Tonya replied. I could hear her smoking in the background. “We both know this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but no one ever wants to press charges. I bet you could get them to pay you some really good hush money.”
“I probably will press charges, but not for the money but rather the principle of it. Hey, are you smoking? Inside?”
“What are they going to do? Fire me? They can’t afford two in one day,” Tonya said saucily. “Besides, I’m hiding in an empty office; the one next to David’s. Maybe it will look like he is smoking.”
“You’re supposed to quit. You said this morning that was going to be your last one!” I chastised her. I was always giving Tonya a hard time about smoking, and she was always giving me a hard time about my two-a-day Starbucks habit. Ok, so sometimes it was three or four. You had to make it through the day somehow, and at least I wasn’t drinking alcohol at that rate. Although, caffeine was probably just as bad.
“That was this morning and I’ll quit tomorrow. So, what are you planning to do now? I have to say that I somewhat envy you not having to work.”
“It would be great if I got paid for sitting home.”
“It’s not forever. Enjoy it. Maybe you should take a trip.”
“Actually, remember my editor friend, Trevor? You know, the one I introduced you to at Muldoon’s last week ?”
“You mean the hot blonde in the skin-tight Diesel jeans?”
“Yeah, that one,” I said dryly. Tonya had thought Trevor was hot, which he was. Unfortunately, for me, he only had eyes for Doug, the other person they were with, and even Tonya’s long dark braids and chocolate eyes weren’t going to change his mind. It was a shame though because both Doug and Trevor were good looking and great guys to boot.
“Are you sure it wasn’t me he kept looking at?” Tonya joked.
I ignored her question, as she wasn’t really expecting an answer. “Remember when he mentioned someone on his staff had a baby and decided not to return to work and he had a job opening?”
“Vaguely,” Tonya said. “I had quite a few drinks that night, so the details are somewhat fuzzy, but go on.”
“He offered me a job writing a monthly column for his magazine, Our World. It’s not a lot of money, but I have some savings, and if I watch my spending, I can make it. Well, for a couple of months anyway.”
“What’s going to happen when you spend too much on shoes and run out of money?”
Tonya was well aware of my shopping habit, mainly because it was one of the many things we had in common. We had often spent a long lunch hour shopping on the Magnificent Mile. Shopping was of ultimate importance to both of us.
“I’ll figure it out then.” I refused to worry too much about the finer details right now. “Getting canned might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I said with a bravado I didn’t completely feel. “Couldn’t be worse than working for David.”
“That sounds like a great opportunity. If it’s really what you want.”
“It is. I am nervous but really excited. The job requires me to interview people, which should be fun. The first person I am supposed to interview is Senator Daniels, and the interview is supposed to take place in Alkon. How’s that for coincidence?”
I had grown up in Alkon, Illinois, a small town located way outside Chicago. I didn’t like to go back very often. After all, who could be expected to live in a town with no Starbucks? Or, where the best place to buy shoes was Wal-Mart and people actually thought that was fashionable? To each his own and all that, but if you are buying shoes at Wal-Mart, you should at least be aware it might not be the most fashion forward move you could make.
“Your parents are always bugging you to spend time with them. They would love you being home for a few days. Besides, if you are out of town then Rick can’t bother you.” Rick was my loser ex-boyfriend who had been driving me crazy lately. What was it about men that made them want you even more when you didn’t want them? It would be nice to get away from him. That would be an upside to getting out of the city, and I would like to hang out at my parents’ where I wouldn’t have to do anything.
“I know. It’s just that a little bit of love goes a long way. You know my mother drives me insane. We can’t ever get along for more than five minutes at a time. It’s exhausting.” But I could see the appeal; I wouldn’t have to cook my own meals or dial for takeout. And that would save me on the grocery bill. Just how committed was I to my new writing career? Staring up at the ceiling, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, at least for a short time. I could handle anything for a few days, couldn’t I?
“So, have you told Rick you are leaving?” Tonya asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Why would I? We broke up, remember? I want to have as little to do with him as possible. Besides, this just all came about five minutes ago.”
“You may think you are broken up, but I am not sure he’s clear on that. He thinks he’s irresistible,” Tonya said with a sound of disgust in her voice. She never liked Rick. She liked him even less when he cheated on me, but she wasn’t surprised. She had wanted to do some unspeakable things to his manhood in retaliation. I persuaded her it would be a bad idea, because jail time would be
bad for her skin, she would miss all the good sales at Macy’s, and because I was sure the Cook County jail didn’t have a spa. As a further incentive, I reminded her that she liked men and there weren’t too many of them in a women’s prison and you could only do the work yourself for so long. At that, she finally saw reason.
“Well, that’s not my problem; he needs to get over it.” I had dated Rick for three years and thought we had a future. I had all but planned the wedding. Ha! What a joke that was. A few months ago, I caught him with the assistant from his office in the back seat of his Mercedes, of all places. She was definitely assisting him, just in inappropriate, non-business ways. Of course, now he claimed to be a changed man, that I was the only one for him, blah, blah, blah. He wouldn’t leave me alone, as if I was the bad guy for not forgiving his little “mistake,” as he kept calling it. I rolled my eyes at the thought. Some mistake. Too bad for him. The asshole had his chance. He was only pursuing me now because he liked to be the one in control. The fact that I dumped him bothered him more than the act of me actually dumping him, I was sure. I didn’t for a minute think he really had an epiphany that I was the one for him. Why I hadn’t seen from the beginning what a self-centered jerk he was, I didn’t understand. I was getting myself all worked up for nothing. He wasn’t worth it. I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Thinking about Rick made me want ice cream. Actually, it made me want to drink or pull out his nails one by one. However, since nail pulling was illegal, and it wasn’t yet late enough for alcohol, ice cream was the perfect choice. I pressed the phone to my ear and opened the freezer, trying to see if I had anything left from the last time I was crazed over that asshole and needed an ice cream fix. I knew I had an unopened bottle of wine in the refrigerator so there was a backup plan.