“It’s called The Rainy Day Show. She has over a million followers.”
“You know a lot about her. Are you two close?”
“Not like that.” I rub the back of my neck, staring at the watercooler. She’s deep in conversation with a guy wearing an official-looking badge, nodding along like he’s saying the most interesting things in the world. “Not at all, really. Friends is too strong a word to describe our relationship, but I’ve been around her for fifteen years. It’s unavoidable.”
“Is there going to be any trouble if one of you gets the job over the other?”
“Keeping her on her toes is one of my favorite hobbies. But, no. We’re adults. An employment opportunity isn’t going to spark a war.”
“Damn. It’s a shame we can’t give you both the job. It would be fun to see you all go head-to-head.” Danny pops to his feet and grins. He watches Quincy leave the operations floor, clearing his throat. “Can you introduce me to her?”
“Pretty sure you’ll be public enemy number one if you admit you’re a friend of mine.” I shove my hands in my pockets. Irritation claws at the base of my spine, but I plaster on a smile. “We can give it a shot, though.”
We exchange casual conversation on our walk through the building. He gives me the ins and outs of working in the office, asks how Mia is doing, and mentions there’s a recreational rowing team in Orlando looking for a seat filler. I ask about his life outside of work, laughing when he shows me photos of the dog he rescued three months ago.
When we make it to the lobby, I look around for the flash ofher dark hair. The echo of her laugh or the hint of her smirk. It’s empty, save for a receptionist sitting behind a large desk, and I frown.
“Sorry, dude,” I say. “She must’ve headed back to town.”
“Damn. Well, I’m sure she’ll get a second interview. I’ll have a chance to meet her then. And I know you’ll be back too.” Danny sticks out his hand, and I shake it. “See you soon, Seb.”
I step outside, squinting up at the sun escaping from behind a cloud. I shrug off my jacket and take a deep breath, the fresh air letting go of my nerves before I hear a noise to my left.
“Did you give it your best shot?” someone calls out.
I scan the parking lot until I find her leaning against my car, elbows on the hood. She’s grinning, and I smile on instinct.
“You’re going to hate me, but I think it went really well.” I stride her way, stopping when I’m in front of her. “I gave George some ideas I’ve been tossing around. Got a nice firm handshake. All in all, it was a good day. My phone should be ringing with an invitation for a second interview any second now.”
“You’re right. I do hate you,” she says, but her grin stays in place.
“How about you?” I tap her shoe with mine. “How did it go?”
“I’ve never been one to boast about my social media presence, but when I mentioned how many followers I have, George dropped his coffee mug.”
“Look at you out here impressing people.”
“What took you so long to finish up? I figured you’d be done before me since you went in first.”
“Miss me, Monroe?” I put a hand on the warm metal of the car, propping myself up. “I was busy talking to one of your secret admirers.”
“Secret admirer?” Quincy snorts. “I doubt that’s true.”
“It’s true. Danny? The guy with the silver platter? He was asking about you.”
“Oh.” She rubs her thumb across her collarbone. “Is he nice?”
“He’s fine. You’ll meet him at the second round of interviews.”
“Better than terrible, I guess.” There’s a long pause. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I lift an eyebrow. “For what?”
“You shared important things with me when we were at Waffle House. About your career, about being unhappy. It was …” She stops for a breath. It seems like she’s trying to psych herself up for this next part. “It was shitty of me to imply you couldn’t get an interview for this position on your own. You’re good at what you do. You’re more than qualified and—” Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth. I deserve a goddamn medal for not staring at it. “I’m sorry.”
I dig the toe of my dress shoe in the dirt. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t— It’s fine. Really.”
“If I’m going to get this job, I want it to be because I’m the best candidate, not because I resorted to low blows against my competition.” Quincy sticks out her hand. I take it, intertwining our fingers. “Truce?”
