“When you say it like that, it sounds pathetic.”
For the first time since I’ve worked here, I’m actually happy to see Charlie standing in front of me. He saves me from Dana and her insane ideas. “What do you need?” he asks.
“Two Bud Lights, and a shot of Jager,” I blurt, hoping he puts the order together just as fast. I already told Dana more than I should have, handing her enough ammo to make the situation worse.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this anymore, but be careful. Seriously,” she says, squeezing my shoulder.
As she walks away, I realize there’s only one option. I have to move, get my own apartment so I don’t have to deal or think about Blake. It’s the only way.
My whole life is in a tailspin. Blake hasn’t come home, and I have no way of getting ahold of him, not that I’d try. Charlie’s is keeping me busy, but it’s not challenging me in the ways I want. It’s not why I sat in crowded classrooms for four years.
Since I left work last night, I’ve been thinking about Pierce’s offer, and how stupid I’ve been for not calling him back right away. It’s an opportunity that most of the people I graduated with would kill for.
I pace my room to keep my nerves at bay. He called three days ago, and there’s been nothing but radio silence on my end. I’m quieting the voices that keep telling me I’m not good enough or qualified enough because I need this—a reason to stay in Chicago.
“Stanley.” Pierce’s deep voice floats through the phone.
“Hello, Mr. Stanley.” My voice shakes. I quicken my steps to chase the nerves away. “It’s Lila.”
“Lila?” The way my name rolls off his tongue stops my maniacal pacing. It reminds me how easy he is to talk to.
I run my fingers through my hair, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, airplane Lila. I’m sorry it took so long to call you back. I didn’t know if I should respond, but I’ve had time to think about it, and I’d like to apply for the apprenticeship. If it’s still available, that is. I—”
“We’re still hiring,” he cuts me off. “Would you be able to come down for an interview this afternoon?”
“Today?” Shit. I don’t have anything to wear to a real interview.
He laughs. “This afternoon would be today.”
How bad do you want it, Lila? Do you want to crawl back to Nebraska with your tail between your legs? “Yeah, I can make it. What time is good for you?”
“Two o’clock.”
“Don’t you need to check with your secretary or something first?”
“No, Ms. Fields, if there’s something scheduled then, I’ll cancel it. Just make sure you’re here.”
“I’ll be there,” I say, opening the closet door.
We both mutter a short goodbye before I toss my phone onto the bed and start thumbing through Mallory’s closet. I need to look professional with enough edge to showcase my eye for color and design. Mallory is a basic-with-a-hint-of-elegance type girl; this will take every bit of my creativity. Not that I’m a fashionista by any means.
I pull a sleek black pencil skirt off the hanger, and then shop her closet for the perfect shirt. Nothing catches my eyes.
Frustrated, I throw the skirt over the end of the bed and shower. If this interview doesn’t pan out, I might not get another chance anytime soon. Everything has to be perfect. I can’t go into it thinking I can’t do it. I can’t go in thinking about Derek or Blake or all the other reasons my life hasn’t been going the way I want.
After drying and straightening my hair, I pull it back in a perfect bun at the nape of my neck, letting a few wavy strands stay loose around my face. It makes me look older—professional.
I wonder what Blake would think if he saw me like this, in my element, reaching for my dreams. Would he find it attractive? Would the skirt I picked out bring on a replay of the other night? I shake my head, trying to chase it away. Stop thinking about him, Lila. He’s not worth it.
I select a blush-colored lace bra and panty set to give myself some needed confidence. Feeling sexy always allows me to keep my head up, no matter what I’m doing, and I definitely need that today.
There’s a silk blouse I brought with me—white with black polka dots that will look great paired with my pencil skirt. I pull it from my small corner in Mallory’s closet and put it on, leaving the top three buttons unfastened.
After a layer of make-up, a toothbrush, and a pair of black pumps, I’m ready to go an hour before I need to leave.
To kill time, I sit down with today’s paper. If I get this job, and continue working at Charlie’s, I’ll be able to afford my own apartment. Looking at the ads, it seems that apartments in this area are some of the most affordable. I circle a few that I think will fit in my budget and set it aside, hoping I get to call on some later.
Thinking about Charlie’s reminds me that I’m supposed to work a shift tonight. With no idea how long the interview will take, I text Dana and ask if there’s anyone who could possibly cover my shift. In case there’s not, I grab the little pieces of fabric Charlie calls a uniform and tuck them into my purse.
Bored and anxious, I throw on my black coat and head to the train stop. It takes me less than thirty minutes to get downtown, and the map on my phone leads me straight to Stanley Development. It’s a high rise with wall-to-wall windows—the kind of building I always dreamed about working in one day. Like the big shot executives in the movies.
The lobby has white and black granite floors, gray walls, and a huge antique chandelier hanging high up above. It’s a timeless design—one that only requires a change in accessories every now and then.
“Can I help you?” the doorman asks. He’s an older gentleman who smiles as if he has the best job in the entire world.
“I’m looking for Pierce Stanley’s office.”
His smile widens. “Twelfth floor. Elevators are down the hall to your left.”
“Thank you.” I wave and start walking, trying to stop myself from gawking. I hit the up button and wait with two men dressed in ill-fitting suits. When the door opens, we squeeze in with several other people. Here goes nothing, I think to myself. The higher we climb, the harder it is to breathe. My life isn’t dependent on this, but it sure as hell feels like it.
I follow the two suited guys out when we reach Pierce’s floor, noticing they’re around my age—fresh out of college.
“May I help you?” a professionally dressed woman with a perfect blonde bob asks, a welcoming smile on her face.
“Yes,” one of the guys answers, “I’m here to interview for an apprenticeship with Mr. Stanley.”
“I’m here for the same,” the other guy pipes in.
I stay back, waiting for her to see me, but in the back of my mind I know if this is my only competition, I’m a shoe in. Both of these guys came dressed like they don’t give a damn. There’s no flair—nothing that says they want to be remembered after they’re gone.
“Take a seat,” the woman says to them. “Someone will be with you in just a few moments.”
They walk away, and the receptionist’s eyes focus in on me. “How can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Lila Fields, and I have an interview for the apprenticeship at two.”
Her eyes travel my body, but quickly come back up. “Oh, yes, Ms. Fields. Mr. Stanley will be seeing you soon. Please have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
I pull off my coat before taking a seat. Each second feels like an eternity as I wait nervously, memorizing every detail of the swanky office. This really is where I aspire to be . . . my dream.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see two sets of eyes on my crossed legs and adjust myself so I can’t see them at all. At least I know the skirt is a homerun.