There was a silence. I waited to be escorted from the building.
Tabitha laughed. “I got a third.”
“And Mara here,” said George, grinning, “was sent down.”
She shrugged. “If I hadn’t been, I would never have met you.”
“Oh please God no.” That was Tabitha. “No more stories about New York in the eighties. It was a golden age. You once threw up on Andy Warhol. We get it.”
“Alas, poor Tabs. The most exciting thing you’ve ever vomited over are your Jimmy Choos.” George climbed lazily to her feet. “But, in any case, I should leave you all to your chat.” She began gathering up her photographs, pausing only to glance my way. “I do hope we meet again, poppet.”
And, with that, she sauntered out.
Leaving me genuinely unable to figure out whether I was relieved or not. She seemed kind of into me, which probably meant she was my ally in whatever was happening here. But, at the same time, she had legs for miles and a fantastic rack and she kept smirking at me distractingly.
So I guess I was overall grateful for her absence.
Especially because, so help me God, I was not fucking this up. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and I wanted it so badly it was making my throat tight and my mouth dry. My brain, of course, was a flurry of uncertainties. It wanted to tell me I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve this. That I’d only end up disappointing everyone.
But I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t.
I’d earned this chance. Worked for it. Milieu and me were made for each other. And I was going to land this job.
Because, let’s face it, I was likeable as fuck.
* * *
Fifty minutes later, I emerged flayed, dazed, giddy, and job-having.
Junior Assistant Editor. I was a junior assistant editor.
Truthfully, I was still a bit shaky on what that actually involved. But, whatever it was, it was a real thing and I was going to be paid for it. Not, y’know, much. But I’d never been paid for anything before. Unless you counted that time Caspian had established a scholarship in my name after I’d given him a blow job.
I lurched past one of the Pitts and into Hanover Square. Slumped onto a bench, amid the swirling green, and messaged everyone I knew with shaking fingers. Caspian first, of course. And he was the first to get back to me, signing his congratulations off with an x, which was incredibly effusive for him, squeaking in before my family, who sang to me as follows: We knew you could do it / Just call it a hunch / Ardy’s delicious & nutritious / For dinner, breakfast, and lunch. Rabbie and Hazel wrote music for adverts, and pined after the days of the unironic jingle, so most of my accomplishments were celebrated via cheesy earworm.
Tucking my feet onto the edge of the bench, I hugged my knees and watched the shadows of the trees dancing over the grass. I was half expecting to jolt awake and find myself back at Oxford, in my single bed, under my crappy duvet, on the morning of my first exam. Having desperation-dreamed this whole absurd fable: being with Caspian, meeting Ellery, not completely fucking up my finals, landing a job at Milieu.
Except no. This was my life. This was really my life.
I bounced up, flung wide my arms, and wheeled in circles, accompanied by a few startled pigeons. Well. I figured I deserved my very own Disney princess moment. Even if I did look slightly bonkers.
From there, I headed home, where I found Ellery and a bottle of scary-expensive congratulatory champagne Caspian had contrived to send me that she’d mostly drunk. Her pink tulle skirt and leather jacket combination made her look like Tinkerbell gone bad.
“Came to be all yay and shit,” she explained.
I twitched the champagne from her hand and took a swig. The bubbles rushed up my nose and down my chin and left me sneezing. Gosh, I was just the coolest. “It seems like you’ve started the party without me.”
“Haven’t you heard?” She gave me her flattest stare. “I am the party.”
Laughing, I went to shed my coat and shoes. When I came back, she was standing by the fridge and tearing the foil away from another bottle of champagne with her teeth.
As ever, I was mildly qualmish about taking advantage of Caspian’s largesse or whatever. But technically Ellery was the one taking advantage. And I really did have something to celebrate.
Pulling herself onto the edge of one the gleaming marble counters, she popped the cork with upper-class ease. Foam surged upward, splashing onto the floor and running down her hand. I would have been squeaking and flailing for a cloth, but she only laughed and licked the champagne from her arm, spilling even more as the gesture tilted the bottle downward.
Mustering some of her insouciance, I skirted the puddles of champagne and hopped onto the counter next to her.
She nudged my knee with hers and passed me the bottle. “I’m happy for you.”
