It’s Just Business

“You know,” I tell Maggie as I set my hairbrush aside, “This could be a huge mistake.” Decisions based on emotion are typically not the best, and I’d be a fool to ignore how emotional I am.

For three days, I’ve buried myself in work, resumes, and applications from sunup to sundown, focusing on my increasingly desperate job search, only to barely keep from crying myself to sleep at night. The blindside of this breakup and the betrayal of his cheating have been worse on me than I’m trying to show. The amount of concealer I need under my eyes is a testament to that.

“I keep thinking about how Evan is going to be there and how I hope he regrets it all when he sees me.” I tilt my head, running my hands through my hair. “But it’s a business event, and I’ve already missed one opportunity because of him. I don’t want to burn the whole house of cards down over one Joker.” I turn to face her fully, ignoring the turmoil rolling around in the pit of my stomach as I look her dead in the eyes. “I shouldn’t be going to spite him. I don’t want to make a mistake I can’t take back.”

“You’d better not be talking about backing out tonight,” Maggie says from her perch on the bed. “Dylan’s picking you up in forty-five minutes. If you back out now, you’d better be bleeding from some major body part.” When I don’t automatically agree, she adds, “Blowing him off would be the worst mistake of all.”

Shit. I try to tell myself it’s no big deal. Just business. Focus on the logical and the fact that networking at this level really is a golden ticket I won’t get a second chance at grabbing.

I head for the closet, feeling sick to my stomach, and she follows me.

“I know. It’s just…” I reply as I take a dress out and hold it up for Maggie’s inspection. She shakes her head, and I put it back. “I don’t want this to be like my internship.”

I’d been desperate then too, needing something I could put on my resume to show I worked in a legit firm. That I’ve spent the past year as a low-level business researcher at a small firm hasn’t helped as much as I’d hoped, ironically, because of Evan’s name, which is why I didn’t want to use it to help me find a more permanent job placement. “Do you think Evan helped me with that to keep me pigeon-holed? Or to, you know, keep me out of his hair?”

“I didn’t think so at the time. You two seemed to be doing pretty well then. But now?” She shrugs. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“The red one.” I go back two dresses and have another look at the scarlet red number while Maggie continues her pep talk. “Regardless of how you got that internship, you’ve done a great job and you’ll get a stellar reference from it. And maybe Dylan Sharpe and this event tonight can help you land something new. Worst case scenario, you’ll know you tried everything when you fill out an application at Starbucks. And being a barista would give you more time to work on your day trading portfolio.”Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

I gawk. She’s got it all figured out. I mean, it sucks as far as a plan goes. But at least she’s got one for my life. I certainly don’t. Not anymore, when everything I’ve been working for seems to have vanished into smoke.

Maggie stands, bringing the black dress I was considering with her and holding it up in front of me. When she moves, I hold the red dress in its place and she nods.

I look in the mirror, contemplating the red dress. “You’re sure?”

“It’s more confident. Says you’re a sexy bitch… which you are, but also confident and coming to shake things up. Which you’re going to do in more ways than one.”

She’s right. Or at least I can fake that she is and make it so.

I do a little twirl with my finger so she turns around, and Maggie obliges, focusing on her phone so she can’t see as I undress. Picking up the red dress, I shrug off my bathrobe and hang it back up.

“Hey, forgot to mention,” Maggie says as I pick out my sexiest, most confidence boosting lingerie, “your mom called while you were in the shower.”

As if my stomach couldn’t sink any lower.

Mom’s been worried about my job hunt too. Not because she doesn’t have faith in me, but because she knows how much I want this. If there were a way for Dianne Hill to make my dream job appear, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

“What’d she say?” I ask, fastening my bra and turning it around. It’s strapless, so it’s a little tight around the chest, but it makes the girls look perky as hell.

If Maggie didn’t have an amazing mom of her own, my mom would’ve adopted her years ago. Since that’s not happening, they’ve instead become friends, and often, Maggie will have spoken with my mom as recently as I have. Plus, Mom basically becomes besties with people everywhere she goes. She knows all about the lady at the bank whose dog is having cataract surgery, and the man at the post office who is definitely going to win the sweepstakes this time, and on and on. She’ll tell you her business, listen to yours, share her snacks, and be your biggest cheerleader. And that’s all before you reach the checkout cashier at the grocery store. She’s pretty great.

“Well, she seemed to think your interview went well… and that you’re still with Evan?”

I wince, knowing I should have told Mom the truth but trusting that Maggie covered for me. “Uhh… sorry about that. Mom’s been really excited about this interview. She thinks I’m going to be a millionaire by next year or something. I just didn’t want to disappoint her, so I sort of sent her a text saying the interviews are still going on but I’m hopeful.”

“And Evan?” she questions, and I swallow thickly.

I pick up the rest of my lingerie, which are undoubtedly lacy and a little butt-flossy. “I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell her.” I reluctantly admit, “I wasn’t ready.”

I expect Maggie to be disappointed, but she nods in understanding.

“Hose or no hose?” I ask, considering my legs and the dress. “Black, maybe?”

“I gotcha,” she says, digging in her dresser drawer and coming out a moment later with a garter belt and some stockings. “Here. You’ll be erecting tent poles in these.” She’s doing her best to keep me distracted and make me laugh so I don’t call the whole thing off, and her silly joke does the trick.

With a bittersweet smile, I take the garter belt, which is black silk that almost perfectly matches my black bra and panty set, and hold it up to my waist. “Thanks.”

“Under the panties if you’re DTF, over the panties if you’re a good girl,” Maggie quips, pouting when I pull the belt on over my panties. “Hmph.”

“I’m going to network, not have sex,” I comment before pausing and running the straps under my panties. “But I might have to pee,” I concede.

“Party pooper,” Maggie teases as she sits back down on her bed cross-legged. “Mama Hill also asked if she could start planning a visit. I told her to put a hold on it, because with you hopefully starting a new job soon, your schedule might be iffy. Good?”

I nod, unzipping the red dress and slipping it on. “Thank you so much,” I tell her, appreciating her temporarily diverting my mom more than she could know. “Zip up? And remind me that I need to grab the train and head home for a visit soon.”

“That’s good, Mama nearly talked my ear off telling me the latest and greatest,” Maggie says as she zips up the dress. “Damn, that looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I reply, checking that I can still breathe with the zipper done. “Fill me in. I can use the distraction.”

“Well, let’s see. Your dad’s bowling team is apparently screwed, something about how their top hooker pulled his calf?” She looks at me like she doesn’t know what those words mean.

“A guy on the team who puts a lot of curve in his throws,” I explain, picking out some lip gloss to go with the dress while holding back a grin. If I’m going to go red, I’m going to go really red, and fire engine red lip gloss is the way to go.

“Your little brother’s nerding out with his community improvement project,” Maggie says, talking about my brother Mark. He’s a senior in high school and is trying to do community work to improve his college chances. “He’s building computers, which apparently has something to do with rooting through the trash?” I shrug, not knowing on that one. “Your mom said he worked a deal with the garbage pickup guys and some of the schools. According to your mom, he’s got half a dozen done, and he’s going to donate them to a local charity to give to kids who don’t have one. He’s hoping to complete one computer a week between now and when he graduates, maybe more if he starts getting decently good stuff that isn’t too fucked up. My words, not your mom’s.”

I laugh lightly, trying to imagine Diane Hill uttering the words ‘fucked up’ and coming up short.

I pull out the best and sexiest stilettos I own—black, five-inch, red-bottomed ‘So Kate’ Louboutins. They were a gift to myself the first time I had a four-figure day. Even so, I hadn’t eaten for two days in my guilt over the cost. Tonight, I’m glad I have them.

“What do you think?” I ask Maggie, who gives me a full once-over.

“Okay… hair’s good, makeup’s good, dress is hot as hell… You’re good to go. Knock ’em dead.”

“I will,” I promise her. “I’m dressed to grab attention tonight, so everyone can see that I’m fine—better than fine!—without Evan and ready to tackle my next big undertaking. For their firm, because I’m not leaving this fundraiser without a job offer tonight. It’s going to happen,” I say as if I can manifest it.

“That’s the spirit,” Maggie assures me. “And one other thing. Pertaining to Mr. Sharpe?”

“Yeah?” I turn to face her, grateful for whatever advice she has.

Maggie chews on her lip, suddenly hesitant to speak. But finally, she says, “Just be careful. Be smart. But also, spending time with him is a big opportunity, so don’t be too risk-averse. You gotta go big or go home, or something like that.” She takes a deep breath as though she’s going to continue her rambling of cliched idioms, but she stops herself and nods. “Yeah, that’s it.” She smiles as though she imparted the wisdom of the ages despite basically giving the same insight a stack of fortune cookies would.

I shake my head, laughing off her nerves so they don’t become my own. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve already thought tonight through dozens of times, with hundreds of scenarios. My primary mission hasn’t changed—get the job. It just has a little asterisk beside it that if the chance arises to rub Evan’s nose in my greatness a little bit, that a small side step is an acceptable detour, as long as I quickly get back on track to my objective.