Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  I swallow.

  I’m going to touch Maryn Porter again today. And in front of her parents.

  The ceremony goes by painfully slow. I scan the crowd to try to find her, but I can’t make her out amongst all the faces. Finally, it’s my turn for the speech, and I’m uncharacteristically nervous. This isn’t like me. I’m always so smooth. But I know she’s watching. And so is her dad.

  I take a deep breath and let it go.

  I talk about my time here at school and about how college helped me recover from the loss of my sister.

  I talk about how I graduated top of my class. But then I talk about how none of that mattered without Willa.

  I talk about how I decided to do something about it, because I knew there were others like me, suffering without their family members, their friends. Missing them every single day, feeling unworthy to live their lives. I can hear the sniffles from the audience, and I know it’s hitting them. I wonder if it’s hitting Maryn.

  Finally, I get to the last line—the clincher.

  “What I’ve learned from the loss of my sister is to pull those closest to you even closer,” I say. “Lean on them. Depend on them, and be someone they can depend on. Let yourself have those days of uncertainty, those moments of self-doubt. But then, get yourself together. Pull yourself back up. Remember how worthy you are of every single day you’re given on this earth. Take time to learn your purpose, and then go after it. Don’t let anything make you too afraid to live. Thank you.”

  Everyone rises to their feet, clapping and cheering, smiling, whistling. I wave, shake the dean’s hand, and take my seat next to one of the department chairs.

  I wait another excruciating hour before the names are called, and we finally reach the P’s. I see her lining up on the side of the stage. And as she makes her way to the top of the stairs on the right side, her eyes catch mine. I’m anxious, on fire, ready to feel that zap again when our skin touches. But the look on her face tells me she’s anything but excited. She looks nervous—terrified, even.

  Nothing like the bold sex goddess she was mere hours ago. And Jesus, she even makes a graduation cap look good.

  “Maryn Alyse Porter, Summa Cum Laude,” the dean reads. Alyse. I love that. I know the audience is clapping, but I don’t hear them. I just hear the blood rushing through my body as I extend my hand to her. She looks down at it for a moment, then lets her eyes scan the crowd. She takes it for only a second, our eyes meeting for the briefest of moments, then she nods and continues her way down the line.

  “Ms. Porter,” I call out, causing a bit of a backup in the line. She looks at me, eyes wide. “Congratulations.”

  She nods again before waving out to her family in the crowd then making her way down the other side of the stage.

  And I know that’s it for us.

  A few days pass, and I’m slowly getting over my night with Maryn. I’ve finally stopped picturing her naked at random times. Finally stopped getting that tingle in my dick when I remember her telling me how much she hated me and then kissing me better than I’d ever been kissed.

  I’m back in New York, back in the swing of things. Still getting used to my corner office, my new digs. I have a personal assistant, which, to be honest, I’m still not comfortable with yet. And I have a fucking phenomenal view of Central Park.

  Life is good. There’s nothing missing, no unfinished business at all.

  I’m staring out the window, chucking a Yankees ball up and down at my desk when there’s a knock on my door.

  “Hey, man,” Nate says as he pops his head in. Nate’s the CFO of the company, for no other reason, I’m convinced, than the fact that his dad is the CEO. Although, to be fair, his dad made him work his ass off for this position. And he’s actually good with money. So it works.

  “Hey, Nate,” I say, popping up to shake his hand. He takes a seat in the chair across from my desk.

  “How was the trip back to the old stomping grounds?” he asks. “Any hot college chicks after ya?”

  I smile and shake my head, one last flash of her naked body under mine going through my brain.

  “Oh, tons,” I say with a chuckle. “How were things here?”

  “Not bad,” he says. “We closed the deal with Landry, thanks to you.” I nod and press my lips out. Landry Hotels has been a top prospect for us for a few years. And after a few lunches with their CEO and director of marketing, I was finally able to land the account. The deal was signed and sealed last week while I was away.

  “Fucking awesome,” I say, clapping my hands together.

  “Yeah, man. Thanks to you,” he says, standing up. “It’s gonna be a good year. Oh, and we narrowed down the candidates for that coordinator position.” He drops two folders on my desk.

  “These are the resumes. I know that position will work with your team a lot, so we wanted to make sure you got a chance to review them. Let me know which you think is most qualified.”

  I nod and thank him, picking up the two folders as he heads out the door.

  The first candidate is Tommy Jensen, a recent graduate from Boston University. His interning experience is actually impressive, but his writing test isn’t super moving. I close his folder and open the second, and my jaw drops to my desk.

  Fucking Maryn Porter.

  Graduate of Melladon University. Alumnus of Tilden High School.

  The best goddamn lay I’ve ever had.

  I swallow, blinking to make sure my vision is clear. But it is. It’s definitely her.

  She interned at three different communications companies down in Florida and volunteered at a local animal shelter during her free time. Her references all gave her excellent marks, and she was the president of two different honor societies.

  She’s definitely qualified—in more ways than one.

  I practically lunge for my desk phone and dial Nate’s extension.

  “Hey, man,” I say. “Listen, let’s go ahead and make the offer to this Porter girl.”

  “Make the offer? We were going to set up another interview—”

  “Nah, I like her resume. Her intern experience will be really good for this position. Plus, her writing test was a lot stronger than the other guy. Let’s go ahead and give it to her. And while we’re at it, see if you can fund the position for a few thousand extra. Hopefully we can keep this position filled a little longer than the typical entry-level position so we won’t have to retrain someone so fast.”

  I try and keep my voice calm and not let the urgency that’s settled inside of me rise to the surface.

  “Good deal, man,” he says. “I’ll have HR give her a call today.”

  I thank him and hang up.

  Maybe that moment on the stage won’t be the end of me and Miss Porter.

  7

  Maryn

  I have no idea how I accumulated so much shit over the last four years, but getting this stuff back to New York has been a nightmare. I’m hoping I won’t be staying at my parents’ for long, but until I have a set job, my childhood bedroom is all the space I have. There are boxes stacked everywhere (most of which I know won’t budge until I move out), clothes thrown in piles at every corner, and another few boxes stacked in the garage.

  I take a break from unpacking—or, at least, from trying to find some clean underwear—and make my way downstairs. My phone rings, and I see Keely’s face pop up on the screen. I walk outside to the backyard and answer.

  “Hey, bitch,” she says, shoveling a spoonful of something into her mouth. “I fucking miss you already.”

  “Me, too!” I hear Trey call from somewhere in the background. I smile as I sit down on our deck steps.

  “I miss you guys, too,” I say. I sigh. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, but leaving Keely and Ellie is going to be really, really hard. I don’t have many friends left here in Tilden. This small Long Island town is just that—small. So small it’s suffocating. Once people take a stance on something, it’s pretty tough to change their mind. My fami
ly learned that the hard way.

  I listen to Keely talk about her new teaching job and Trey’s interview that he has next week. They both want to stay down in Florida; she’s only about an hour from her parents, and Trey is having much better luck with his applications there than in Georgia where he’s from.

  “Have you talked to Ellie?” Keely asks.

  “Not since I’ve been home. Why?”

  “Looks like she got a love note from Mrs. Dickson,” Keely says, her eyebrows shooting up, prompting me to ask for more.

  “What?”

  “Yup. She saw the texts on his phone. He, apparently, put her name in as ‘Phone Company.’ Like, what an idiot, right? So she wanted to know why the phone company was sending him pictures of tits. She, apparently, apprehended the good professor’s phone and contacted Ellie herself. It’s over. She’s not doing great,” Keely says. I shake my head.

  “Oh, Ellie,” I say, rubbing my temples.

  “Yeah. She keeps mentioning she wants to come up there and see you. Maybe you should give her a call,” Keely says. I nod. It would actually be nice to have Ellie here. It’s funny being back in Tilden. I’ve lived here my whole life, with the exception of college, yet I feel like a total transplant. God, I can’t wait to move out to the city.

  “I will. How are you guys doing?” I ask. Keely smiles.

  “Good! We’re finally going out tonight,” she says. “We haven’t been able to have a night out since before exams started.”

  I see Trey in the background, raising his eyebrows at me. Oh, my God. Tonight’s the night. The night. My best friend is getting engaged.

  I smile and nod, trying to look as casual as possible.

  “Awesome, good for you guys,” I say. “You guys deserve a night out.”

  “What about you? Any dating prospects back in New York, or are you still hung up on Mills?” Keely asks matter-of-factly.

  “Shh!” I scold, looking back to make sure that I still see my parents inside the living room window. “Jesus, Keel.”

  “Oops,” she says, covering her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you’re back with Mom and Pops.” I roll my eyes.

  “No, I am most definitely not still hung up on him,” I say just above a whisper. “But I’ve only been back in New York for a few days. Let me get settled first before you start asking about my dating life.”

  “Fair enough.” Keely shrugs. Just then, my phone starts buzzing, and I see another incoming call. It’s a city area code.

  “Hey, Keel, gotta run. This could be one of the jobs I applied for,” I say.

  “Okay, love you, bitch,” she says.

  “Love you. Have fun tonight!” I say, clicking over. “Hello, this is Maryn,” I say, immediately switching over to my professional voice.

  “Hi, Maryn, this is Beth Wilms with Caldell Communications,” she says. I swallow. Caldell. Wyatt.

  “Oh, hi, yes, hello,” I say.

  “Is this a good time?” she asks.

  “Perfect.”

  “Great. Well, a few of our executives have reviewed your resume, and you passed the initial screening with flying colors. We’d like to offer the public relations coordinator position to you.”

  I swallow. A few of the executives? Which ones?

  “Oh, wow, my goodness,” I say. “So there won’t be a second interview?”

  “Nope, our executive team was really pleased with the results of your writing test and impressed by your internship experience. They all feel like you’d be a great fit here. Oh, and the position has been funded for extra compensation, so the salary is a bit higher than what we previously discussed. I’ll send that over with your official offer letter.”

  I swallow again. I’m frozen. I want this job. I need it. I need to get out of Tilden, into my own life.

  But that means Wyatt comes along with it.

  “So,” Beth finally says after a long pause, “would you like to call us back with your final answer?”

  “Oh, um, yes, please, thank you so much,” I say.

  “Okay, great. You still have my number, so just give me a call back when you’re ready.”

  “Will do,” I say. I fumble to hang it up then dial Keely back immediately.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  “It was them. The company he works for. They offered me the job without a second interview, and they...he got me more money.” There’s a pause.

  “God damn, you must have screwed the shit out of him!” Keely says.

  “Keely! This is serious. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Wait…you don’t know what to do? You mean you haven’t accepted it yet?”

  “No. How can I? It feels like I’m sleeping my way into this. This is wrong, isn’t it?”

  “Look, bitch. You got the first interview without having a connection with him, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “And you passed the first screening and the writing test without him, right?”

  “Right,” I say, “but—”

  “And did you or did you not graduate with the highest honors? Top of your class, president of all the etas and zetas?”

  I pause for a moment and sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then. Hook-up or not, you deserve this job with or without his input. This is your chance. You don’t want to be in that shitty little town any longer than you need to be. You’ve worked your ass off for four years. Take it. Maybe have some storage-closet nookie or something.”

  “Keely!”

  She laughs on the other end.

  “Okay, okay, maybe no nookie. But maybe take the opposite route.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you dare let him storm back into your life and take even more away from you. Take the job, and show him up with your skills. Shit, make him worry for his job.”

  I sit back on the deck step, thinking about all she’s saying. I picture myself slapping an empty box on his desk, telling him to pack up his shit. It’s my desk now.

  But then I picture him grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and splaying me out over said desk. Ripping my clothes off. . .

  No. Fuck you, Mr. Mills—and not literally.

  At least, not again.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I say. “I’m gonna call them back. Thanks, Keel.”

  “You got it,” she says.

  I tap my foot anxiously as I wait for Beth to pick up the phone.

  “Caldell Communications, how can I help you?”

  “Hi, Beth?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Maryn Porter,” I say.

  “Oh, hi, Maryn, good to hear from you so quickly.”

  “Yes. I just wanted to gratefully accept the position,” I say.

  “Oh, wonderful! We are so excited to have you on the team. I’ll send over your official offer, and then you’ll be getting a hard copy in the mail as well. Can you start two weeks from tomorrow?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” I say.

  “Great! We’re looking forward to it!”

  “Thanks again,” I say. I hit end and go inside.

  “Mom, Pop,” I say, “I have some news.”

  They come around the corner from the living room into the kitchen where I’m standing.

  “What’s up, kid?”

  “I just got a job,” I say. Mom shrieks and Dad claps his hands excitedly. Tucker comes

  down the steps to see what the commotion is then high-fives me.

  “Oh, this is so exciting! Tell us all about it!” Mom says. I give them the rundown of the

  company and what I’ll be doing. I tell them when I’ll be starting. And totally leave out the part that Wyatt Mills will be one of the executives at the new company. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I think.

  “Wow, hon, this is such good news,” Dad says, squeezing my shoulder.

  “So, are you still thinking you’ll want to move out to the city?” Mom asks. I nod.

  “Yeah, I’m
going to try to start looking tomorrow. I’m hoping I can find somewhere soon so I can get settled.”

  Mom nods, a sad look in her eyes even though she’s smiling.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” she says, her voice soft. “But I know Tilden hasn’t been your favorite place.”

  I nod. I wish I didn’t hate being here so much, either.

  It’s not my family. Lord knows, these three are my everything. I’d do anything for them—as proven by some of my not-so-adult actions during the case. But I can’t stay here. I can’t be forced to face that time over and over again, every time I get home. I need to get to the big, loud city where I can’t hear the small-town chatter.

  “Yeah, Mom. Thanks,” I say.

  “So, what about a roommate?” Dad asks, swiftly changing the subject as he so often does. “You’re not planning on living alone, right?”

  “Well, I hadn’t gotten that far yet, but…”

  “Well, get that far, girl,” Mom says. “You’ll be able to afford something in a better neighborhood if you can split the rent with someone. And I won’t have to worry about you all the time if I know you’re not alone.”

  I roll my eyes and smile.

  “I can put out an ad,” I say. “Or ask around online.”

  “Gee, that sounds safe,” Dad says. I chuckle.

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Good. Don’t make us worry,” Mom says, kissing my head. “We’re so proud of you, babe.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Later that night, I manage to climb over all the shit on my floor and make it to my bed. I’m lying with my feet up against the wall, scrolling through Facebook, when I see a dramatic quote posted by Ellie.

  I roll over to my stomach and dial her.

  “Hello?” she answers, her voice solemn.

  “I heard the good professor screwed you over,” I say. She sighs.

  “Yeah. I guess I screwed myself over. You guys were right. Congratulations,” she says.

  “Ell, we didn’t want to be right. We just didn’t want you to hurt anyone, or get hurt yourself,” I say.

  “Well, I did both. I fucked up,” she says. There’s a long pause, because, yeah, she did fuck up. Yeah, she had warning, words of reason in her ear that she ignored.