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“Anything else I need to know?”
I think for a few seconds. “Oh, and I do not like the taste of mayonnaise.” I avoid the stuff at all costs, surprising myself that I almost forgot to mention it.
“Is that so?”
“Icky.”
“I think I can accommodate you.”
My insides turn to mush at the tone of his voice, making me think the topic of food turned into something a bit more risqué. I hear commotion downstairs and high-pitched giggling, which lets me know the party has started. “I have to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow to discuss the situation with my calendar and how we’re going to remedy it.”
“I look forward to negotiating with you.” His response is smooth and full of mirth.
Does he think I am going to back down and allow him to bully me into doing whatever he wants? No, we will be discussing this tomorrow. He can call it negotiating if it makes him happy. But tomorrow, I plan on laying it out on the table for him with crystal clear detail.
* * *
Organic hummus and a tray of raw vegetables take up nearly all of the space on the coffee table, as the gang gathers around for the show. The drink of the night consists of freshly made Bacardi mojitos, courtesy of Blake’s mixology skills. Apparently his trip to San Juan last spring break unlocked his genius when it came to drinks with raw sugar cane, key limes, and sprigs of mint.
“I grew the mint myself. A little YouTubing and a trip to the local nursery,” he says, plucking off a sprig to smell it, “and voila. Fresh herbs for the beverages.”
“Very cool,” Claire adds.
“And Angie?” Blake says getting my attention. “You can basically count the greenery as a salad.”
I laugh hard at his snarky comment. It’s the truth. “Hey, I ate zoodles yesterday.”
Blake gives me a goofy grin, making me giggle. “Glad to see your palate is maturing into adulthood.”
I turn on the TV and settle onto the couch beside Zander. He is unusually quiet tonight, making me feel a bit on edge.
“How is your journalism stuff coming along?” he asks softly.
His eyes don’t meet mine, and I wonder if he is mad at me.
“Right now, I plan on pretty much giving up. I have yet to find anything worth investigating. And the couple of leads I have currently going are taking longer than usual to explore. I might just run out of time to fully construct something worth reading.”
Zander turns to me and studies my face. “That’s unlike you. You’re not a quitter.”
On the contrary, there was a dark period in my life where I quit caring for months. I had zero passion for anything. I promised myself I would do everything in my power not to get to that low again, despite how easy it is on some days to get near that downward slope.
“I’m just not cut out for this business. It’s too unpredictable. And even if I somehow manage to pull myself out of rock bottom again, there is no guarantee that the next chase will produce anything worthwhile.”
I often think back to how I decided this route for my future. It was James and my quest for justice. However, my brother will always be gone, and I don’t want to be chasing after the unattainable forever.
Problem is, I have spent the past four years working toward these goals. Turning back now would shatter the sunk cost fallacy, but also leave me without a real path to financial freedom.
“I think you are being too hard on yourself. Not everything needs to be an epic story. You can write well enough without everything being a headliner.”
“True. But in order to get my foot in the door, I need an internship. And those are competitive and hard to come by. Thus, I need to be stellar and a standout.”
Zander brushes his wavy hair off his forehead. “Or what?”
“Or I am simply a graduating student with an English degree and no goal or job in mind. I mean, what would I seriously do with just a degree in English?”
“Hey,” Claire interrupts. “Where is Resa?”
“She texted me earlier and said she would be a little late,” Blake answers. “Was grabbing a smoothie and going to walk here.”
