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The worst part is that the editor at the Times is actually a really nice guy who I’m sure would throw me something if he could; but unfortunately for me, I can’t expect him to fabricate jobs out of thin air.
It’s hard to stay positive when all you get is rejections. I foolishly thought that finishing at the top of the class in my journalism program would pretty much guarantee me work at one of the top newspapers. Or some newspaper, at least. Apparently I was wrong. If something doesn’t come through soon, I’m going to have to up the ante on my freelancing—which I enjoy, but which hardly offers the job security I know I need.
I’ve thought about asking Mom for a small loan, just to get me through until I find something, but I can’t bring myself to make that call. It’s almost like admitting that I’ve failed, and I’m not ready to do that yet.
“Is Douchebag still calling you?” Dee asks, frowning. Her dark brown eyes are full of concern as she waits for my response.
“He’s cut down to one or two messages a day. And the flowers have stopped arriving, thank God.” Every freaking day for the last two weeks I’ve put up with a dozen roses sitting outside the door of my new apartment. Huge arrangements that I know Nick must struggle to even afford. And every day they’ve gone straight into the trash, which is where his dignity is, as far as I’m concerned.
“How did he even get your new address, anyway?” Dee asks, rolling her eyes. She tosses her long, dark mane over her shoulder and smiles at a sexy guy walking past, who nearly trips over his feet at her attention. I giggle in spite of my foul mood.
Guys are forever falling over Dee. It’s been that way since high school. Jess and I got plenty of male attention, but next to Dee and her exotic Brazilian looks, we stood no chance. The funny thing is, Dee is one of the most down-to-earth, natural people I’ve ever met. She has no idea how beautiful she really is.
“Who knows?” I shrug, taking a sip of my wine. “He probably conned our landlord into giving it to him after I arranged to have my mail forwarded.”
I was lucky that an apartment opened up in the same building as Jess’s the day after Nick and I were finished. Lucky might be a loose term, considering the previous tenant slit her wrists in the bathtub, but still…timing is everything in LA. Thank God I have some savings and a mother who is more than willing to help me out to get me away from that “twat knuckle.” Her words, not mine.
“Well, I think the best thing you can do right now is pick up a hot piece of ass, take him home, and fuck the life out of him,” Jess declares, her eyes wide.
I cringe, wishing her voice weren’t so damn loud. Now I have at least four guys checking me out, no doubt thinking I’m an easy lay. Who knows, maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need a rebound guy.
“Thanks for the advice, but I’ll pass on guys for the moment,” I say drily.
“That’s fine.” She grins. “I’m sure there are plenty of fuckable chicks here too.” She winks at me, and for a moment I wonder if she’s offering up herself. I laugh, because it wouldn’t shock me that much. Out of the three of us, Jess is the loudest and the one who is always up for anything. She’s also the one always calling me, begging for help whenever things don’t go according to plan. For Jess, that seems to happen a lot.
“How’s Craig?” I ask brightly, changing the subject. Craig is always a safe bet when I want to redirect conversation.
Dee catches my eye and smiles. I snort as Jess rambles on about her married boss, Craig—whom she’s been pining over since she began working as the events coordinator at the Fairmont Miramar, an ultraluxury hotel in Santa Monica, five months ago. Of course, nothing has actually happened, but that doesn’t stop her from dreaming. Even regular pickups fail to distract her from the amazing Craig.
“You should see the way he looks at me,” Jess whines, her pretty face forming a pout. “It’s obvious there’s something there. I mean, why else would he go on about how unhappy he is in his marriage, and always go out of his way to talk to me?”
“Because you drop everything for him?” I suggest. “He strings you along because he likes the attention, Jess. You deserve more than that.”
“Maybe,” she mutters. She narrows her eyes and downs the rest of her vodka. “I just wish he was that easy to get over.”
I flash her a sympathetic smile. I understand, but at the same time I hate seeing her chasing after some married guy. Maybe it’s the aftermath of being cheated on myself, but I can’t help thinking of the guy’s poor wife. No matter how bad their relationship is, nobody deserves that.
—
The rest of the night drags on. Not even the alcohol I’m consuming has the ability to make me forget the mess that is my life. Things were supposed to start going right for me this year, not get progressively worse.
Nick was the one thing I thought I’d always have. He was my constant. There was no hint that he wasn’t happy. Hell, I’d been half expecting him to pop the question on my upcoming birthday, but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. As much as I try to pretend I’m over him and ready to move on, I know I’m not. Especially when I keep wondering if I could’ve done more to try to salvage our relationship.
It’s nearly one in the morning when I stumble into my apartment. The night turned out to be much longer than I had planned, even though I left before the others. Last I saw, Jess had dragged Dee out onto the dance floor, where some random guy had begun hitting on Dee. I watched for a moment as they tag-teamed him, Jess rubbing her way down his front as Dee ground her ass into his back. It was almost painful to watch how drunk they were.
Most nights out with those two end up with me fighting a raging hangover the following morning. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much to make me regret my behavior. What can I say? I’m a cheap drunk.
Back in the safety of my apartment, I kick off my heels and unzip my skirt, easing the smooth fabric down over my thighs. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I reach up and unclasp my hair clip, letting my long, dark curls fall over my bare shoulders. Looking at myself, I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me. I’m pretty cute. My body is in pretty goo
d shape, considering the amount of crap I eat, and I like to think I have a good personality. So why did he cheat on me? I sigh, because I hate that he has me doubting myself. If there’s one thing I’ve never lacked, it’s confidence. But I guess catching your boyfriend fucking someone hotter and younger will do that to you.
I’m exhausted, but at the same time I’m too buzzed to sleep, so instead I run a bath. After a second I remember that that’s where my predecessor killed herself, and my desire to bathe begins to diminish rapidly. My mind is groggy from the few cocktails I had, so the last thing I want to do is fall asleep and drown while relaxing in the tub.
Pulling on my robe, I turn the faucet off and curl up on the sofa to watch the end of an old movie. Why can’t life be as simple as it is in these movies? When is my knight in shining armor going to swoop in and rescue me from the hell that is fast becoming my life?
I’m twenty-four, I’m unemployed, and my boyfriend of three years just cheated on me. I can’t imagine things getting any worse.
Chapter 2
