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And I envision the city, too. Heavy damp heat, always embracing me. Music a constant, drifting from street corners and bars. Color, so much color, everywhere. New York has ever-present energy, like a perpetual moving machine. But New Orleans has a rhythm, and at some point, that melody started singing to my soul.
But I can’t figure out words for it. And even though Charlie is used to my less than sensical way of talking, I’m not sure even he would understand me if I tried.
Dash would, though.
I shake that off and focus on the man I’m with.
“It’s weird, being back here. With the interview. I just don’t get it. Why go through all of this, the calling, the plane ticket, the hotel, for me?”
“They want you, Paige.” Charlie finishes off his crust and wipes the grease from his hands with a napkin.
“They had me. And they fired me.”
“Obviously they realized they’re a bunch of idiots. The real question is, do you want them?”
I barely have to think about my answer. “I want my authors. I miss them. Working with them. Talking with them. Maybe we weren’t friends, but it always felt like it.”
Charlie nods. “My advice? Keep that to yourself. I don’t think this is going to be the normal kind of interview with you trying to sell yourself to them. They know what you can do, and they want you back. It’s your turn to make them sweat.”
I grimace. “That’s not my style.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Pancake.” His use of my childhood nickname has me grinning. “I was in that kitchen when you gave your Dad, one of the scariest men I know, a verbal beat down.”
“He’s not that scary,” I mumble, suddenly embarrassed.
“Maybe not to you. But he’s more than that. He’s someone you love.” Charlie loops his arm through mine and pulls me back out into the cold. “Being honest with someone you love can be harder than it is with a stranger. Because you actually care about their opinion. These interviewers? Who cares what they think?”
“Well, me.”
Charlie tugs me to a stop at a crosswalk.
“You shouldn’t. They should care about whatyouthink of them.”
I mull over his words as we walk the last few blocks before arriving at the skyscraper my old employers have offices in. We’re early, so Charlie pulls out his phone, taking a picture of me by the front entrance and sending it off to our parents.
“Are you sure you’re good on your own while I do this?” Even though my friend is a world traveler, I feel bad abandoning him in the big city.
Charlie smirks and grasps my shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. I want you focused and ready for battle.”
I roll my eyes, but he gives me a gentle shake.
“Remember. You’re a badass.”
After a quick kiss on the cheek, Charlie turns me toward the doors and gives me an encouraging push forward.
Determined to live up to his idea of me, I don’t look back, facing forward, and brace for whatever this meeting might hold.
“You would have your position back with a salary increase of two percent, and we would cover all relocation expenses.” Mr. Shoemaker, my old boss, sits across the boardroom table from me. He has his hands clasped on his stomach as he reclines in his chair and offers me a congratulatory smile. On his left is a guy from HR who introduced himself as Tom, and on Mr. Shoemaker’s right is Francine Walters who, if I remember correctly, ranks a bit higher than my ex-boss.
The three of them sit silently, waiting for my answer.
Giving myself time to think, I smooth my hands over the silky green material of my skirt. The dress I bought all those weeks ago with Dash probably isn’t the most common interview attire, but I don’t care. Even pairing it with a set of thick black tights, and a well-fitted blazer, I get the same shot of confidence I felt the day I marched out of the store wearing it.
I knew I’d need that memory today.
My old job, a raise, and help to move back up north. I could live in New York, on my own this time. The place I rent, the food I eat, the bills I pay, everything would fall on me. Finally, I would be living in the world as a fully functioning adult.
For years, this is what I’ve been saying I wanted.
