“If only I was.”
“Why does she even have a job in the first place? I mean, I guess good for her, but it’s not like she needs it, and journalism doesn’t really strike me as her thing.”
“I don’t know,” I said dramatically. “I could care less if journalism is her thing or not, but what I do care about is that I was so excited about this job and now I have to spend my days listening to her. That sounds miserable. Ugh.”
“Okay, I know this blows. But you can’t let it get in the way of this great opportunity. Also, I can’t imagine Delilah is one to stick to a nine-to-five, so here’s hoping her hours are sporadic.”
“We can only hope,” I agreed.
Maggie’s words urged the tension in my shoulders to release as one of my hands fell from the steering wheel into my lap.
“And the second thing?” she asked.
Her question reminded me that I’d almost forgotten the best part. “Are you at The Wheel?” I asked.
“I am!”
“Well, I’m headed your way, because this girl landed her first writing job. I’m writing a piece on The Wheel celebrating fifty years!”
“Scar, that’s amazing! I’m proud of you. Did you know you were going to be writing right away?”
“No. I sort of assumed I’d do random stuff around the office, but when I showed up this morning, Donna told me she wanted me to write. I’m thrilled, and to have my first piece be about The Wheel… It feels kind of symbolic.”
“It feelsperfect. I’m happy for you,” she said, and I could hear her smile through the phone.
“Thanks, Mags,” I said. “Oh, is Wilson there by any chance? I’m hoping to chat with him for a bit, but if not, I can just chat with some of the customers and you.”
“He’s not right now, but he said he’d be in around one thirty, so you should catch him.”
“Even better. All right, I’m gonna call my mom and dad and let them know the good news, but I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“See you soon!”
“That’s amazing, sweetheart. You know we’re proud of you, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, of course I do, Mom,” I replied. “But I just pulled into The Wheel, so I’ll call later.”
“Please do. We can’t wait to hear how it goes, and you know we’ll be the first ones to buy a copy of the article as soon as it’s out.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you both. Talk soon.”
“Bye, honey. We love you,” they said in unison.
I thought I was never going to get them off the phone, but I also didn’t mind, because I was so excited to finally share the news.
They’d never say so, but I always figured they’d hoped I had taken the job in Chicago despite the whole wedding situation—or really just taken a job somewhere besides Quincey Falls.
But we all knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t.
I scanned my reflection in the driver’s window of my Jeep, tucking a flyaway behind my ear before cutting through the parking lot, doing my best not to kick up dirt onto my boots. I wanted to look my best, like a professional.
The Wheel was one of three bars in all of Quincey Falls, and it had been around the longest by a longshot. The worn-outbuilding made entirely of timber sat on the corner off Main, smack dab in the middle of a dirt parking lot.
The yellow, orange, and white neon sign perched on top could be seen while standing in nearly every part of town. The rodeo cowboy sat high up on a bucking bronco, one hand gripped on to the reins while the other danced in the air, holding on to a cowboy hat. “The Wheel” sat just below it.
The color, once a rich oak—from what I’d seen in pictures—now resembled an aged tree that’d stood the test of time. The muted brown lacked vibrancy, but it most definitely didn’t lack character. The building had a wrap-around porch, situated with four rocking chairs. A few strands of lights dangled overhead, illuminating the entry in gleaming yellow at night.
The old wooden door creaked open as I pushed my way through, immediately getting smacked in the face by the stench of stale beer, burnt cigarettes, and cleaning products.
