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We make it back to our building. After saying goodnight to Lex and Omar on the first floor, it’s halfway up the stairs with Brett that I realize I never texted my mom like I promised, telling her I’m settled in. I unlock my phone … only to then be horrified by the ghost of the reply I’d drunkenly sent my new friend Alan earlier.
A text that reads: Alaaaaan! You’re so fucking sexy! I’m watching strippers and thinking of you. Sure, let’s grab a bite! Let’s do anything! Luv you! Kiss, kiss.
[ THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN ]
The weekend passes in the blink of two hung-over eyes. Sunlight strikes mercilessly through the window, cutting horizontal lines across Connor’s sleepy face. When he wakes, the noises of the city around him tell him it never went to sleep. His new bed creaks uncomfortably under his body as he stirs and struggles to sit up, and with a glance at the clock, he realizes today is the first day of his internship.
And he’s already late.
5
I thrust on my dress shirt with such conviction, I nearly tear the sleeve off. Then I’m hopping into a pair of shoes while trying frantically to manage a simple double Windsor with my tie in the mirror.
Brett is in the living room with his feet propped up as I dash for the door. “Oh, it’s your first day already?” he calls out. “Grab a bite before you go! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”
“No time,” I say, out of breath. “I slept in. I’m gonna be so late.”
“Where’s this internship thing at again? Didn’t you say it’s Uptown? Take the Q train to the P, go up three blocks, hop on the—”
All his directions fly right out of my ears by the time I’m squeezed onto the crowded subway train. Despite ample warnings, I miss my stop, tediously backtrack a few blocks aboveground, get turned around by confusing signs, and eventually find the right street, racing down it toward my destination.
By the time I finally stand before the building—Wales Weekly—I’ve sweated through my shirt, and I’ve loosened my poor tie past the point of looking anything like the perfect knot I achieved back at the apartment. My stomach is tied in a worse knot, and I think there’s sweat in my eyes.
A cool blast of air swallows me when I enter the building. The interior is vast, cold, and full of reflective tiles. Every suit, tie, and parted head of hair that passes me is more intimidating than the last. The only thing I hear is the click-clacking of dress shoes and heels. It even smells cold in here.
My eyes needlepoint toward the set of elevator doors ahead, one of which I promptly enter.
Two guys squeeze in right after me, one of them carrying several orders of coffee. They are heading for the same floor. “Seriously, the first day, and already I’m the office bitch?” mumbles one of them. “Oh, I know,” the other says back. “We’re basically the scum that sticks to the scum on our boss’s shoe.” The first one sighs. “I’d hoped we would at least get to sit in on a meeting.”
“Are you interns, too?” I can’t help but ask.
They turn to me. “Coffee gofers for life,” the one on the left answers. “Are you interning for Ms. Opal, too?” asks the right. “Or Mr. Whitaker?”
“Oh, uh … no.” I smile. “I’m interning for Mr. Wales himself.”
“Well, yeah, he’s everyone’s boss here, we’re all interning for him technically, but—”
“Wait,” the one on the right cuts him off. “You mean you’re a top-level intern? One of Mr. Wales’?”
I blink. I didn’t realize until this exact moment that there were different levels of interns. “Uh … I don’t know. My internship is with Mr. Wales and the editors. I did a phone interview with a Brenda.”
The two of them look at each other. At once, they adopt cold smirks, then turn and stare ahead, having lost all interest in speaking to me.
I frown, confused by their reaction, then hook a thumb into the strap of my—
My thumb finds nothing there. My jaw drops.
I forgot my laptop bag at the apartment.
The elevator dings right then. When the doors slide open, a sea of colorful desks and cubicles fills my eyes. People rush around with earpieces, coffee mugs, and tablets from station to station. The room is brightly lit from the floor-to-ceiling windows that line it, inviting the life of the very city itself inside. Each person has the urgency of commitment, work ethic, and passion burning in their souls.
And I can feel it at once.
Stars of happiness flood my eyes, making me forget all about my laptop—or these interns’ moods—entirely. The madness of this floor speaks to me. The exhilaration. The buzz. The fervor. The life …
