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“Tillie, I’m just saying. I hate to see you waste your passion on something that isn’t your dream.”
“Well, unfortunately, Leo, life isn’t always a dream for all of us,” I said calmly but coolly.
There was a long pause.
“And it isn’t exactly a dream for me either, believe it or not. I’m not Lucky Leo or Lavish Leo like the tabloids claim. But I thought you knew that from our time together. I thought you understood.”
And then, he did something I didn’t expect.
He hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s one thing when your life falls apart, when you don’t get the job you want, when the chance falls through. It’s another level of low when you can’t even get a job you don’t want.
Mom was working after the disastrous interview with Jacques when I headed to the bus stop. She was with a guest, so she just shot me a thumbs up and a smile. I didn’t have the heart to crush her dreams, though, so I gave her a thumbs up back.
She’d find out soon enough that Jacques hadn’t even given me the courtesy “Don’t call us, we’ll call you” treatment. He’d essentially just stuck his nose in the hair, tsk tskd, and said, “Girl, the hotel business isn’t for you.”
I didn’t know what exactly it was, couldn’t pinpoint the singular moment the job slipped through my fingers. In truth, perhaps it was before I’d even left the house; my heart clearly wasn’t in it, and I’m pretty sure a man like Jacques could tell that. If it wasn’t that, there would be plenty of other choices in the failed attempt at securing a job.
It could’ve been when my jacket split down the sleeve as soon as I reached for his hand, or the fact that I leaned my crutches against his desk, which he shouted would leave a mark. It could’ve been when he mentioned my date with Carl, and I tried my best to keep my face neutral. Or maybe he’d made up his mind before I’d even come in, the whole thing a courtesy to my hardworking mother. Perhaps it was my resumé that fell flat—a failed business and a few months at Tino’s as your only adult jobs doesn’t really bode well.
But if none of that sealed it, then the question, “Why do you want to work here?” did. Because despite my best effort to paint on the fake interview smile and answer correctly, I found the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
“I don’t.” Cue a gasp from Jacques, the tsk tsk, and the, “Well, that’s that then.” He wiped his hands as if I’d made his job of rejection that much easier.
I couldn’t blame him, I realized, as I hobbled onto the bus and promptly removed the sad, oatmeal jacket. I didn’t want the job. I wanted my own job, my own dream, my own business.
Maybe Leo, Grace, everyone was right. I owed it to myself to try again. Was it crazy? Yes. Reckless? Definitely. Naive? Arguably. But ripping off the sad oatmeal jacket and saying goodbye to the hotel job I never wanted in the first place felt freeing somehow. I felt lighter.
And I felt a little guilty that my mom would certainly hear about my disappointing performance. Still, things were inexplicably looking up for no reason except I was at least choosing a direction to go in, even if it was absurd.
I looked down at my phone to see a few texts and a missed call from Leo. My mood darkened a little bit. He’d hung up on me. In fairness, I deserved it. I hadn’t been kind to him. At all.
But it still made me upset. Maybe it wasn’t even the disastrous phone call that had done it. Maybe it was just the smack in the face reminder that we were different. Too different. Two different worlds kind of different. He could never really understand my issues, and I couldn’t understand his, either. Playing—well, whatever we were playing—for the summer was fun and exciting. But that was it, wasn’t it? It was just a summer fling, a summer flirtation. In the real world, Leo and I just couldn’t mix.
