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So fucking harsh.
I’m lonely. Scared. Broke. At rock-fucking-bottom. All the things I promised myself I’d never be. That was the purpose of pouring my heart and soul into Devon, after all.
Look where that got me.
My job search has been excruciating. For some reason, companies aren’t terribly enthusiastic about hiring a woman whose primary profession was being the supportive girlfriend of a rising NFL player. Every rejection is one additional reminder that I’m an idiot. It’s my own damn fault for putting his career to the forefront and neglecting my own.
Last week, I was about to sell off my designer clothes on The RealReal when my twin brother Miles saved the day.
We were having dinner and, after a little twin bonding, he quizzed me about all the things I’d done to support Devon’s career. Miles helped me remember everything. How I built his social media following by making engaging content. Managed his day-to-day schedule. Networked like a madwoman to ensure we were invited to VIP events where he could make NFL connections. Threw elaborate parties which became the most coveted invite in town. Volunteered at high-profile nonprofits to position him for photo-ops.
It was a full-time job. More than.
Miles assured me my experience would easily translate to positions within the corporate world.
Over the past few months he’s asked for my advice on some marketing initiatives. He was shocked at how much I know about data-driven marketing. I showed him some tricks on how to grow Hungry Llama’s followers and he implemented them—they grew their engaged audience by nearly ten percent. He wants to do a corporate retreat with his top executives, so I researched and found a unique but cool venue.
I knew they had an opening at his company for Vice President of Marketing and Events, but it never occurred to me I was remotely qualified. It took a few weeks but eventually he convinced me to accept the position.
My wonder twin made me feel like a worthwhile human being for the first time since my breakup.
The idea of working with Miles is a dream come true, though having such an important title is intimidating. I mean, I’m all for faking it until I make it, but this is well…a whole new level. Nepotism aside, I have a lot to prove.
Reporting to Austin Andrews, my brother’s best friend and business partner, is…terrifying. He’s a big deal now. I read up on him over the past few days. He’s come a long way from the nerd who had a huge crush on me in high school. Now he and Miles are among the most successful entrepreneurs in the Pacific Northwest.
Hopefully he’ll remember me fondly. I’m going to need all the help I can get in my new role. Because if I don’t pull this off, I’m back to square one.
And thank God I didn’t end up selling my designer clothes. I’ll be able to get by for a couple of months without repeating an outfit at work. Today, I picked the perfect ensemble for my Hungry Llama debut. Underneath my limited-edition, bright-pink Dior wool coat, I’m wearing a vintage Alexander McQueen asymmetrical black suit and ankle boots.
During my pageant years, my coach always drilled it into me—a girl’s got to look great for her grand entrance, first impressions and all that.
Looking sharp and ready to conquer the world, I feel amazeballs until I enter the lobby of the corporate headquarters. That’s when I realize I’ve made a grave miscalculation by not visiting the offices before my start date.
A gargantuan statue of Bert, Hungry Llama’s mascot, looms in the forefront. A glass security wall separates the entry from reception. I peer inside. The entire place is buzzing and it’s not even nine in the morning. The thing is, no one’s dressed up. Not by a long shot.
Several women wear warm sweaters and leggings. The dudes sport jeans and hoodies. All around there’s an inordinate amount of athleisurewear. Good God, someone runs by wearing pajama bottoms and slippers.
Holy shit, I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.
My heart starts pounding when the reality hits me. I don’t belong here. This is going to be a disaster.
I’m about to turn around and go home when I see Miles and an incredibly handsome man walking toward me, deep in conversation. As they near, they both notice me gawking at them through the glass partition.
Miles’s face lights up when he sees me and swipes a card to unlock the door. “Shay! Welcome! Come on in. You remember Austin Andrews, my business partner?”
Austin Andrews? Holy crap. I’d never have recognized him. He’s devastatingly handsome. Dark-brown hair shaved on the side and long on top. Square jaw with a smattering of stubble. Brown eyes with bright flecks of gold. He’s so tall. Built. God, he looks like a professional athlete.
I flash him my warmest smile. “Of course. Hi, Austin. It’s so wonderful to see you again.”
“Shay.” I see a flicker of undisguised displeasure pass over his face. He doesn’t look at me, he looks through me.
Huh. That stings. We’d always been cool, hadn’t we? Shouldn’t that count for something?
Maybe not. He is a man after all.
Ignoring Austin, I focus my attention back on Miles, whose enthusiasm puts me back at ease. “Everything’s ready to go. You’ll report directly to Austin, but will be working with both of us.”
“There’s no time to waste. Let’s go over the upcoming launch schedule.” Austin looks around at everything but me. “With two games releasing in Q1, we’re woefully behind on the marketing plan. You’ll need to jump in immediately.”
