“Aw, c’mon, Amber. You’re the one doing this work half the time, aren’t you?”
She slumped. “See right through us, huh?”
Like hell I saw through anything, I just knew the boss never actually took responsibility himself. “You’ll be able to back me up to talk to Sean about it, can’t you? If there’s one thing I know about the guy, it’s that he’s stubborn about how things are done.”
She gave in, thank Christ. “Ah, guess so, yeah. I gotta prep the room before the next guys come in, though. You free at nine?”
I was going to be fucking sleeping on my feet at nine. But I couldn’t really wait until tomorrow. “Yeah, I can be.”
We traded numbers—I’d gotten more people’s numbers in the past three days than I’d gotten in the two years in New York before that—and I was out the door hauling myself onto my moped as soon as it was in both of our schedules, clocking into the app again. I could work this strategically. Take deliveries that would lead me close to another studio. And hope that the guys in charge there wouldn’t see me handing some guy his twenty-dollar coffee.
I ran myself ragged visiting five more studios over the course of the day, turned away at the door of each one, and I was pretty sure I looked like I hadn’t slept in a thousand years by the time I met Amber over drinks in a cozy joint in Queens, but she was nice. Heard me out patiently while I talked about Jewel and how it could help them, and at length, she said she’d talk to Sean about it, which I took as a win. Even treated myself to a second beer with her as a celebration, even though I was calculating what percentage it was of my next payment as I ordered it.
I got back to my complex, made sure nobody was looking as I went in the back, said hi to Harold, and barely even had the energy to get my clothes off for my shower, but then, as these things usually went, I couldn’t sleep once my head hit the pillow.
Maybe because some jackass was running all three dryers right on the other side of my wall a quarter to midnight. City that never sleeps. Yeah, I could see why. A room in Missouri wouldn’t have some asshole running laundry six inches from my head while I was trying to sleep.
What would even happen if I just left? The landlord wouldn’t be able to take me to court for not paying rent on this sleazy thing. Would Daniel still track me down for payments? Maybe I’d take a hit on my credit rating, but like, what fucking credit rating?
I could very well just go. I’d had my larger-than-life New-York-state-of-mind experience. That party had been what I’d dreamed of, and then I could go.
But then Helena would still be waiting for Stephen Shale’s hit song.
Was I really going to stick it out because of a girl I met once, who was infinitely out of my league, and who told me to stop talking to her? Maybe… just a bit longer.
I rolled over, and I picked up my phone, opening my notes app and writing a line.
In all my devastation, you’re my one and only liberation
“That’s good,” I said to myself, and I hit enter and went to write the next line, and that was how I found out songwriting was hard. What the hell did I say next?
The dryer picked up on the other side of the wall, banging against it like a jackhammer having angry sex, and I groaned, rolling back over and shoving a pillow over my ear.
∞∞∞
“Ah, shit, Julie, nah, you weirded her out,” Kingmaker said when I met him at his office the next day and recounted the story of Amber, and with one swift blow, he took the wind out of my sails.
“What? I did not. She said she was gonna talk to Sean about it. She seemed interested.”
He put his hands out. “Nah, nah. She was being polite.”
“Fuck off. You weren’t there, you don’t know. Man, you were supposed to be happy for me. I’m doing what a king does.”
He grinned, leaning back in his chair and kicking his grimy-ass shoes up on the desk. I recoiled slightly. “Our plan’s moving along. You’re learning the king’s mindset. But it’s more than just the mindset, Julie. It’s how you show up in life.”
“This is you telling me I’m an asshole.”
“We’re getting you those etiquette lessons, yeah? Gonna make sure you’ve got a king’s grace.”
“I thought grace was the queen’s mindset.”
His worldview briefly fractured as he, I think, remembered just then that he’d said that, but then he recovered, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s… it’s complicated. Kings got grace too. You think only queens have grace?” He laughed. “Nah, nah. This is why you’re still so fresh. But don’t worry. You’ll learn.”
“Okay, fine, but I’m working with Stephen Shale again at four, so don’t take too long.”
“You still working with that kid?”
“Look, I said I was going to do it, so I’m going to do it. Etiquette lessons, Kingmaker. Are we making me… kingly graceful, or what?”
