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I pull my shit together enough to get through school all day Monday, then my Skype interview Monday evening. The lab is in Newport Beach, a twenty-minute drive from my parents' place. The drive takes a hell of a lot longer on busy summer days, but it's right across from the beach.
That's practically paradise.
The woman who will be my supervisor, if I take the job, is smart, dedicated, and funny as hell. I can tell I'll learn a lot from her. I can tell I'll enjoy working with her.
It's a perfect opportunity. It should be a great fit. Still, when she offers me the job, I ask for a week to decide. I'm not ready to make any major life decisions right now, not with my heart this broken.
Tuesday is a wonderful blur of school.
Wednesday is my birthday. The words Happy Birthday mock me as I scroll through my text messages on my phone. It's worse on social media. There must be a hundred people I haven't spoken to in years wishing me a happy day.
There are a few old friends I miss. I have to smile when I see a text from Joel.
Joel: Happy Birthday, Valentine. I recommend spending the day in your birthday suit with an attractive man in his birthday suit. Or in a business suit if you're into that kind of thing. Might make a nice change from the tattooed rock star type. Don't open the present I sent with company. I couldn't torture anyone enough to find out your preferred mode of sex toy, so I sent a mélange of options. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
There's a text from Ethan too. Just Happy Birthday, Violet. No details, no embellishment, no promises to fix this.
I'm not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed. I'm not sure what to say in response.
Before I can figure it out, the fire alarm starts beeping. I smell smoke.
"It's okay, I swear," Athena calls out from the kitchen. There are footsteps, then she's pulling open my bedroom door. "So it turns out I don't know how to make pancakes properly." She grabs a notebook and fans the fire alarm.
"Here." I open the window in my bedroom then push past her to open the window in the living room. The kitchen is a verifiable mess of batter and charred pans. "You've never been much o
f a chef."
"Everyone starts from zero." She takes a pot and puts it in the sink. "I'll clean this, I swear, but later. Let's go to breakfast. I'll buy you pancakes."
"I'm gonna grab a bagel on the way to class." I step into my bedroom to change into my clothes.
"No class. It's your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way." She comes into my room, waits until I'm dressed in black jeans and a black corset top, and throws her arms around me. "Yes, you're coming with me."
"I am?"
"You don't go to class in those look at my boobs tops." She steps back with a smile. "Oh, makeup, right? I'll give you fifteen minutes, then I'm dragging you to breakfast."
"Not sure I'm in the mood."
"The place has matcha green tea pancakes."
"Twenty minutes. This is a smoky eye and red lips kind of day."
"Violet, do you have other days?"
"Sometimes I do a purple smoky eye and sometimes more grey."
She laughs. "I don't mess with perfection." She lingers in my doorframe. "You gonna be okay?"
"Maybe." I grab my concealer and dab under my eyes. "Ethan texted Happy Birthday."
"Oh." Her voice drops. "That's um… that's all?"
I blend the concealer with my fingers then move on to the primer potion and shadow. It's a purple smoky eye kind of day. That means crimson lips and cheeks and maybe even big fake lashes. I need a massive shield. "That's all."
"The nerve of that guy. I guess when you're famous, you put your head up your ass."
I throw her some serious side eye.
