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What the hell was she going to do now?
* * *
“What do you mean you’re fired?” her best friend Caitie asked through the phone. “I don’t understand. You only just started working there. Oh honey, I wish I was there to give you a big hug.”
After collecting their things from the workshop, Harper’s colleagues had decided to head straight to a bar, unruffled by the fact it was nine in the morning, and the only bars open were the ones that hadn’t yet closed from the previous night. They’d invited Harper, too, which she’d thought was very kind of them, but she’d declined. As welcoming as they’d been, she wasn’t even part of the team yet. Getting drunk and commiserating with them felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Instead she’d driven straight home to her second floor apartment and taken a shower to wash the coffee from her pink-tipped blonde hair. Then she’d put her dress into a mixture of warm water and baking soda to soak it, though from the way the coffee stains had set to the fabric she knew it wasn’t going to work.
And now? Now she was on the phone with her best friend, the only one who would know exactly how she felt. Harper and Caitie had been friends since their first week of college in New England, having been assigned as roommates as freshmen. From the moment they’d met, they’d hit it off. Where Caitie was serious and ambitious, Harper was full of fun and mischief, though both of them had excelled in their studies. They were the ying to each other’s yang – no wonder they’d stayed roommates when they arrived in New York to begin their working lives, then made the cross-country move to California together. But while Harper was in L.A., Caitie had moved to her small hometown of Angel Sands where her boyfriend lived.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Harper missed her best friend like crazy.
“The studio has gone bust. They’re under new administration,” Harper explained, repeating the details Bree had told her. “They’re still trying to keep it going, but they’re outsourcing everything they can, including the costume department.”
“But you’ll get severance pay, right?” Caitie said.
“No.” Harper sighed. “I’m not entitled to anything under my contract. And California is an at-will state, so I’m completely out of luck.” She was trying to keep the panic out of her voice, but it was a close-run thing. All she’d been able to think about since she’d arrived back in her apartment was that she didn’t even have enough money for next month’s rent.
She bit her lip in an attempt not to cry. It had seemed like such a good idea to move to California. While she’d loved working on Broadway, the thought of being employed in a huge department in Hollywood sounded amazing. When Caitie had been offered a contract in California, and fallen in love with a guy from her hometown, it all seemed to gel.
And now here she was, with nothing. It scared her to death.
“You’ll get another job,” Caitie said, as though she could read Harper’s mind. “You’re so good at what you do. Any studio would be delighted to have you. And in the meantime you could do more Etsy work, or take on freelance somewhere. I bet there are lots of places recruiting in LA.”
“You’re right.” Harper nodded, even though Caitie couldn’t see her. “It’ll be okay. It always is.”
“I hate to hear you so down. It’s not like you at all. I wish I was there right now.” Caitie took a deep breath. “I could drive up this weekend if you like? We can buy a few bottles of wine and drown your sorrows.” She sighed. “Oh damn, I can’t. There’s the opening party for the hotel on Saturday.” Her voice rose up. “Okay! I’ve got it. You can drive down here and come to the party. It’s going to be amazing, and it’ll take your mind off everything in L.A. And I’ll get to give you all the hugs I want to. It’s perfect.”
“I don’t know.” Harper pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Maybe I should stay here. I’ve got a job to find.” Though the thought of driving down the Pacific Coast to Angel Sands was enticing. Since the first time she’d visited the small beach town with Caitie, it had cast its spell on her. She’d felt a little envious of her friend growing up in such a close-knit community.
“We can look at things together,” Caitie said, sounding sure of herself. “Make some plans; I’m the queen of lists, remember?”
“I do.” Harper bit down a smile, thinking of the pages of lists Caitie had created before their move to California.
Thank goodness for best friends. The anxiety that had been tugging at Harper was lifting. She’d never been one to dwell on things for too long, and she didn’t worry about things unnecessarily. Life had taught her that when things went wrong she somehow survived.
And this blip would be no different. She’d get through it the way she always did, and if she could come out smiling, that would be all the better.
She’d drive down to Angel Sands and feel the sand between her toes, the surf wash over her feet, and let the warmth of the sun chase all the gloom away.
And until then, there was always that bottle of wine in the refrigerator to keep her going.
2
Dr. James Tanner pulled his green scrubs off and threw them into the basket beside the lockers. His muscles felt taut and achy after six hours of surgery. Today was a thirteen-year-old girl with scoliosis who required a spinal fusion to straighten her curved spine.
It was a long and intricate surgery involving continual monitoring from the neuro team to make sure he didn’t impair any nerves running down the spine, as well as the rest of the orthopedic team, and an anesthesiologist who ensured the general anesthetic the patient had received didn’t run out before he’d finished operating.
Now that it was over and the patient was in recovery, he could feel every inch of his body complaining. It didn’t matter how often he lifted weights or ran to keep himself in peak condition, leaning over a surgical gurney for hours with only the smallest of intricate movements always kicked the hell out of him.
He grabbed his towel from the locker and headed to the shower, slinging it around his neck as he reached in to turn the heat all the way up. By the time he stepped inside it was steamy, the hot water stung his body, and he closed his eyes as he embraced the pain. He rolled his neck, his shoulders, moved his fingers to ease out the stiffness, before he scrubbed his skin clean of any bacteria he might have picked up.
When he emerged from the misty cubicle, the pain was beginning to subside. He almost missed it. The pain was preferable to the thoughts and memories he’d rather not have.
The grief that never seemed to disappear, no matter how long it had been.
“Hey, man, how did it go?”
