by Mia Caldwell
Annie had said the words matter-of-factly, and though Maribel had always operated as if she believed those words herself, she had still been nervous about her big move to the city—New York City of all places, so different from everything she’d known—and her best friend’s words reassured her.
Things would work out.
Why wouldn’t they? She had prepared for this next step as much as she possibly could.
“I’m gonna miss you, girl. You better visit,” Annie said, enveloping her in yet another soft hug.
Maribel sighed.
“I just wish my parents weren’t so upset about it.”
“Can you blame them? They already lost one daughter, now they’re about to lose the second. By tomorrow, both their chicks will have flown the coop.”
“But they’re not losing me; no one is losing me!”
“I think most people know that those who leave don’t come back for good reasons. Don’t feel bad—go out there and ’try your fortune,’ but you sure as hell better not forget about us. I don’t think your parents could take being left behind and forgotten by you too.” She shook her curly head. “I still can’t believe you guys haven’t heard from Mildred—it’s been four years!”
“I know. She’s the reason I’ll have to make sure to take a trip back here in a few months for Christmas. I don’t want my parents to think for a second they were right about both of us being too ashamed of them and not wanting anything more to do with them. They’re totally convinced wherever Milly is, she’s made up some origin story completely erasing them.”
Maribel wondered how long it would take for her to forget her mother’s sad face the previous day.
“We won’t see you again,” she’d said languidly.
“Mom, why would you say that?”
“Mildred never came back,” she replied, shrugging. “I won’t blame you if you don’t. Honey, don’t feel bad—I’d want to get out of here at the first opportunity, too.”
“You think I won’t return for the holidays, at least? Yeah, I’m planning to make a life out there, but that doesn’t mean forever excluding you!”
“Listen, we love you, baby, and we only want what’s best for you. I know it’s better out there. We always knew you weren’t meant to stay down here with us.”
The way she’d said, “down here” rubbed Maribel the wrong way.
Somehow, she knew her mother didn’t just mean down south.
It’s not that I think I’m better than you, she wanted to say, but what would be the use arguing?
Her parents had resigned themselves to their stations a long time ago.
Some people were fine staying in certain places, certain positions. Not making waves, not trying to beat any system—just surviving.
Maribel certainly wasn’t one of them.
“Well, you know I’m always here for you,” Annie said, interrupting her thoughts. “You’ve always been like a sister to me. I love you, Marble.”
Maribel had been prepared to return the sentiment, but she dissolved into giggles instead, Annie joining her.
Over fifteen earlier, in a first grade exercise where each student in the class had written their names on their crappy drawings, Annie had looked over at her stick figures and warped sun and trees and pronounced the name she saw written in pink crayon, “Marble.”
Annie hadn’t used that nickname in a long time, and once Maribel caught her breath, tears gathered in her eyes as it sunk in she was truly leaving her best friend behind this time.
It wasn’t like when she left for the University of Alabama when they were at least still in the same state and could arrange to see each other.
This time, there would be over a thousand miles between them.
“Look, someone’s gotta make it out of here. If not you, then who?” Annie said as if reading her mind. “Stop feeling guilty.”
Maribel smiled, and Annie enveloped her in a hug again.
* * *
“Thanks for dropping me off, dad.”
“No problem, sweetie. You take care and call us if you can. You be careful out there.”
He squeezed her hand, and when she saw one of his eyes failed to suppress a tear, she quickly turned away before she burst into tears herself, rushing to the trunk to get her bags.
She had gathered herself by the time she slammed the trunk back down and she stepped aside, waving at him.
He waved back, and she watched the old car drive off.
Maribel was glad to leave on a Sunday—the only day both her parents were off, so she could give proper farewells.
Her mom had already started getting ready for church when she went to hug and kiss her goodbye, but she knew her mom would wait until her dad returned so that they could go to church together.
Her dad never wanted to go, but as usual, he’d go just because she wanted him to.
Watching the way her parents were with each other, somewhere deep, where she didn’t usually allow herself to go, Maribel hoped to find what they had someday—a best friend and partner.
But her parents had grown up in a different time, and as an ambitious, independent woman, Maribel couldn’t let herself get distracted by such thoughts, and certainly not by any handsome face.
She had a five-year-plan, and getting thrown off by some guy wasn’t a part of it.
She would build up her career, make a name for herself, and then, at some point, the right kind of guy would come along—someone who had all of the items on her checklist.
Once she established herself, she’d be able to navigate the dating world better, and, unlike some other girls, because she would have sorted herself out beforehand, she would be sure of her worth and not settle.
She knew one thing—unlike her sister, she wouldn’t take off with some guy on some adventure.
Why did the chicks always have to follow the guys anyway?
When it didn’t work out, the guy always remained on his path, setting the stage for some other woman to reap all the rewards of the work the girl who kept him warm put in, and where did that other girl end up? Scrambling to put her life back together.
Not Maribel; she had her shit together. Her priorities were straight.
She might have exaggerated a little about having a job in the bag officially, but she didn’t want to worry anyone over her decision to take a rare leap of faith and make the move to New York without a definite yes.
The company had already done a telephone interview with her, and the enthusiasm she met with gave her enough juice to continue thinking things would work out as planned.
She believed the job was pretty much a sure thing; she only needed to handle formalities in her final in-person interview.
She would start small with this job, of course, then work her way up and do real stories.
As she’d told everyone, she’d become a reporter by any means necessary, and everyone believed her since everything she said she’d do so far, she’d done.
But she was moving to a new city—a new state—with no familiar faces nearby and pretty much fresh out of college; no one knew how scared she was.
She knew New York was competitive, but since her life had been rather charmed so far, she had no reason to think things wouldn’t work out, despite her slight fear.
* * *
“You’re just not what we’re looking for right now,“ the brunette said dismissively with a cold half-smile as her blue eyes peered through her glasses. “We need someone with more qualifications. But thanks for coming!”
Maribel did her best to keep her face neutral.
How was it possible?
What about the phone interview? What happened to all that enthusiasm?
Now that she was here, no-go?
They had been impressed by her resumé, but even more impressed when they spoke to her—so it seemed.
They had been so excited about her!
And she knew she looked the part—all the time she had before the actual interview, Maribel made s
ure she had her look together—a crisp feminine but no-nonsense business look.
She had her hair and nails done, made sure her makeup was light but flattering.
Plus she was slim and pretty, and looking slim and pretty was always a bonus, wasn’t it?
She got to the interview fifteen minutes early and everything, and she’d noticed a woman poke her head out and check her out.
She thought she saw a light extinguish in her eyes, but she attributed it to the lighting of the room itself.
She refused to believe it was because she was black; that was only the deep south life messing with her mind.
She fooled a lot of people over the phone, but no way in this place—this very diverse city—could her color still be an issue.
Maribel wasn’t sure what to say.
After just a few minutes in the actual interview, it was all over.
Maribel plastered on a smile, then got up, thanked her interviewer and left, still in shock.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
She had planned to treat herself to lunch somewhere, but with no job nailed down, she started to think she better get used to ramen noodles again until things got sorted out.
She returned to her small apartment, her head still spinning.
She needed to regroup.
It’s okay, you knew it was a possibility—a slim one, but still. That’s why there’s plan B.
Maribel quickly followed up with a promising lead with an entertainment magazine.
* * *
“Get me an exclusive on Jim Craig and maybe we can work something out,” the crisp redhead said with a slight smirk, her eyes having already dismissed Mari as they returned to her computer screen.
Light feminine laughter followed her statement as a curvy blonde strolled in and handed the redhead some papers, so it was obviously a long shot, but Maribel started to feel hopeful that something had been thrown out there. Anytime someone gave her a challenge, her desire to beat it usually meant that she did.
Maribel turned to leave and found herself in step with the blonde—presumably the redhead’s assistant.
“Jim Craig?” Maribel repeated questioningly.
The blonde shook her head, a wry smile on her face.
“Only the most eligible billionaire bachelor in the tri-state area. Don’t get your hopes up, though—I heard rumors he’s getting married later tonight, so…”
She shrugged, disappearing through a door on the left.
So what her boss was actually saying was, don’t bother coming back.
Maribel’s shoulders sagged.
Over the past few days, she discovered lots of people were willing to take her on as an unpaid intern.
But how was experience getting people’s coffee supposed to pay her rent?
Already, she had an overpriced tiny apartment, and she couldn’t believe people happily paid so much for so little space.
She took a few breaths.
She had been putting so much pressure on herself the past few days that she was starting to feel it in aches and pains all over her body.
She was still confident she’d be able to find other opportunities, but for now, after that nerve-wracking flight from Alabama, the tension in her body over the days preceding her devastating interview, this move to a new, fast-moving place—she needed to allow herself time to regroup.
Possibly go out somewhere and grab a drink.
Get distracted by sights and sounds of other people’s lives.
Who knew? Maybe she could pick up on some story while out there—the quirk of an eyebrow or a clandestine glance alerting her to something she might be able to chew on and spin into gold.
Nope! No work. Just take a load off. There’s still stuff to celebrate; after all, you made it! You took a leap. And now you’re here, ready to start the next chapter—whatever it brings.
She returned to her apartment, freshened up, and changed.
She decided she didn’t want to look too available; dodging bedroom propositions did not sound like a good night.
Plus, she didn’t need a string of men hitting on her to feed her ego after being rejected by her most promising job opportunity. She just needed to clear her head.
Sure, it had been a while since she’d broken up with her one and only boyfriend, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who just shared her body with any guy who struck her fancy.
How best to turn men off yet still look nice? she wondered, then laughed to herself.
Unwashed-looking chicks wearing an actual paper bag would still get propositioned.
She decided to stop overthinking it and threw on a pair of jeans that fit her curves snugly, and an off-the-shoulder aquamarine top—still fairly conservative and a little sexy, exposing only her shoulders.
She kept her face made up the same, pinning one side of her dark, relaxed waves back with a gold pin.
When she assessed her final look, she knew she was asking for trouble—she managed to make herself look both innocent and naughty somehow.
Maybe she was subconsciously going for a salve of flattery after all.
Oh, well! Just go with it. Let’s see what happens.
* * *
Maribel had heard about this—a bunch of businessmen hanging out at bars after some convention or other.
There must have been one held nearby—the place seemed to be crawling with men in suits.
Her friend Annie had told her about it—as a convention hostess, she had traveled all over the country to various trade shows, mostly staffed by men with a few “booth babes” like her.
The “booth babes” always got invited to social events afterward, and married or not, everyone was pretty much down to fraternize.
“Not me, though,” Annie told her. “I never slept with any of those guys. You never knew who would inadvertently turn you into ‘the other woman.’ Guys sometimes take off their rings when traveling for the shows. Some don’t even bother and they’re still all, ’Want to go for a drink?’ Like, what? Not me. I’m not gonna be someone’s warm wet hole away from home.”
“Annie!”
“It’s true, though.”
Maribel could only giggle.
Despite her wild, curly hair, Annie generally looked demure, giving off the impression of being a lady, but anyone around her long enough got to hear her filthy mouth.
Maribel almost changed her mind, suddenly intimidated by the sheer number of men.
Come on, girl. Fortune favors the bold. Be brave. Be strong.
Courage and confidence were essential for what she wanted to do, so she might as well tackle it in every aspect of her life.
There was no place to be a shrinking violet.
She took a breath and charged up to the sliver of space at the bar, right next to a guy she’d been trying to keep her eyes off of.
All the while she’d been giving herself her pep talk, her eyes took him in from his immaculately-styled dark hair to the expensive-looking suit hugging his broad shoulders and back. Or was it a tux? He certainly looked like he could be a castaway from a wedding party instead of a convention attendee.
Either way, he was damned sexy, and no matter how much Maribel tried to pretend she was going to ignore him and just have a drink, everything in her kept reaching for him.
She might not have time for a man while sorting out her career, but she could have idle chats with them, couldn’t she? After all, it was practically a job requirement.
She reminded herself she had no driving to worry about, so she could drink as much or little as she wanted.
The man made space for her, and his striking green eyes briefly met hers, a slight casual smile on his chiseled face that seemed to freeze as he took her in.
She wondered at the swirl of emotions there.
As put-together as the man looked on the outside, he seemed to be a wreck.
“Lemon drop, please,“ she said to the bartender once she got his attention.
She had noticed
the handsome stranger was nursing something hard, neat. Probably Scotch. She was never really sure—she only got into ’girly drinks’ as Annie called them.
“Rough night, huh?“ she found herself saying.
His green eyes found hers again and he let out a little huff of air.
“You said it. Although I feel a hell of a lot better now than an hour ago.”
Maribel’s instincts pricked.
“What happened an hour ago?” she couldn’t help asking, trying to sound as casual as possible.
He stared at her a long time before answering, and just when she thought she was actually going to melt from the heat of his green gaze, he said, “I almost married the wrong woman.”
A number of sensations hit Maribel at once, but her mouth got ahead of her head, and before she started analyzing her own feelings, she said, “How on earth did that happen?”
He knocked back the rest of his drink.
“Long story,” he said, indicating another drink to the bartender.
When one door closes, another opens, her mother’s voice sang in her head.
“I am here for it,” Maribel said, almost unaware when her own drink was placed in front of her.
“Thanks,” the man said to the bartender on her behalf, embarrassing her a little since she never forgot her manners. But even then she couldn’t correct it—everything in her had zoned in on the gorgeous stranger; she needed to know what had gone down, even if just to hear how someone else’s day had ended up worse than hers.
She felt terrible for him, of course, but she was practically salivating as she waited for the sordid details.
She blamed her mother for whetting her appetite for scandal—all those soaps she had on in the background throughout the day. The dirty details of relationships of the pretty and rich.
Now she craved it—every hint of the unsavory perked her up.
“Actually, now that I think of it, it’s not that long a story,” he said, happily accepting his next drink.
Maribel smiled at him, blinking her eyes.
“I’m waiting patiently,” she nudged.
He gave her a warm smile, a smile that unexpectedly almost liquefied her insides, a smile that sent a raging sensation through her core.