He slides the door shut behind us.
I brace myself.
“I have great news!” he says.
“Oh?” My shoulders slide back down from my ears.
“About your project assignment. Ish. Apparently, you’re the top pick to go on a press tour with Morgan herself, isn’t that amazing?”
“Oh… what?”
“You’ll get to go to each of the offices and some major cities along the way. I hear Morgan only eats at Michelin star places. Oooh, I’m so jealous!”
Michelin stars seem like a made-up thing for food TV. Those are real places that real people go? It doesn’t seem possible.
“Why? Why me?” is all I can think to ask.
“Well, all the tenured folks are tied up on projects. We’vegot a big deadline coming up, and nobody can be spared. Your publication record is impressive—we try to pass around papers from the new folks. Turns out Morgan reads them too! And you’ve done omega advocacy work before? That’s really cool. I didn’t even realize you’re an omega.”
I feelwaytoo perceived right now. People are reading my papers? My cheeks heat with a blush. And omega advocacy work? What could they possibly… oh.
Too late, I remember that stupid interview for the school paper. I only did it because my friend was a journalism major and wanted to do an omega piece. I bet they only had to google my name to find the article. Shit.
I didn’t specifically intend to hide my omega status. But I was also hoping it just… wouldn’t come up.
I force myself to swallow. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for a… what did you say? Press tour?”
“Morgan said you might be worried about that, so she told me to assure you that you don’t have to do any public speaking if you don’t want to. But there’s a coach available for you, any time. Plus, I’m not sure if I should add this, but you’re new so… you should know that Morgan travels like a movie star. This is like a free five-star vacation.”
“Really?”
“Seriously. If you look her up on social media… well, I’ll leave it at that. It’s okay if you need a little time to think it over, of course.”
I sigh with relief. “When does she need to know by?”
“End of today. Or, well, start of tomorrow. As long as they have your decision by the time folks get in tomorrow, that should be fine. You’d fly out Friday. Morgan said your work made such an impression, it was worth a last-minute change to the itinerary! Isn’t that amazing?YouinspiredMorgan Hunter!”
I’m panicking. That’s no time at all! But a little voice says,it’s not like you have anything better to do. I’ve hardly unpacked and haven’t even bought a plant yet.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“Great, I’ll forward you the email with all the details. Just let me know if you have any questions. This is the kind of opportunity people would kill for. Figuratively, I mean. Don’t let impostor syndrome get in the way. You’re brilliant.”
That last bit is the company motto. It’s painted on the walls and printed onto stickers scattered on the kitchenette tables.You’re brilliant.
What’s that even supposed to mean? But my manager seems to take it seriously. He clasps my shoulder, then leaves me in the meeting room.
I text Mom immediately.
#
I should have known Mom would talk me into it. She spent the whole afternoon sending me posts from Morgan’s social media. They look like magazine photos: incomprehensibly fancy restaurants, the leather-lined interior of a private jet, bottles of wine that must have cost a fortune.
I’m still pretty sure it’s a terrible idea. I don’t even own a working suitcase—the zipper of my old duffel had finally split irreparably over the move.
Go out and buy a new one, duh, Mom texts back, with a tongue sticking out emoji. I wish I’d never taught her how to use emojis.
After work, I stop by one of those trendy suitcase places where they have the chargers built into them. But they areinsanelyexpensive. I mean, really, for a suitcase? I’ll stick to the charging bank I already have.
