“No… I didn’t think that would be wise…” He gazed through smudged glasses at the back corner of the pantry, no doubt reliving the trauma of the last hour. I chose not to warn him that he would soon be parted from three or four hundred dollars.
“Mom wants to see you. I’m off.”
He nodded, gave me a peck on the head, and left me in the pantry. I saw the appeal at once: it was dark and quiet and smelled like food. I sat on the floor with my back against some cereal boxes, ate my pocket caramels, and plotted out my Jdate profile in my head.
I spent the rest of the day at Jane’s, complaining to her while Owen cooked us dinner. I hoped Mom was right about Jane marrying Owen soon. And I did wish I were more like Jane: successful, calm, loved. Probably never worn a bra as a hat in her life.
I shrugged off that train of thought. I learned long ago not to compare myself with my older sister—we’re so different. Anyway, I had it all figured out now: I just needed to find a boyfriend immediately so Mom would leave me alone about Christopher Butkus.
CHAPTER 2
JANUARY IS LIKE THEMonday of the year. Time stretches ahead of you with few holidays in sight, only dreary weather as far as the eye can see. Today was one of those Mondays that make you wonder: Is this it? Is this adulthood? My coworkers were all in a postholiday slump, so there was no good gossip to be had. All I had to occupy my brain was actual work—gag.
Working in technical support, you learn quickly that every customer thinks their problem is the most important problem in the world. And there was no shortage of problems today; it was like they’d been hoarding their issues over the holidays. The number of people who’d forgotten their passwords… I slurped my iced coffee and grumbled to myself as I typed off answers to customer tickets.
Eva and Amy were lucky they didn’t have to deal with moronic customers. Eva spent her days taking graduate classes at UW for her library science degree. And Amy taught math to gifted students. Although, come to think of it, Eva also worked at a coffee shop to pay the bills. And on second thought, sophomore algebra students couldn’t be much fun to teach, based on the way Ibehaved at fifteen. Sumira, poor thing, was required to take clients out to all kinds of dinners and happy hours. At least my customers were all virtual. Imagine having to watch across the table as a middle-aged client picks his teeth and flicks his eyes across the waitress’s bottom. Sumira took it all in stride, though—nothing fazed her.
My phone buzzed. Speak of the gorgeous devil.
Sumira Khan 10:27 AM:
Does anyone want to come to my office postholiday party? It’s Friday night. Dress up, get free food and drinks. Should be fun.
Eva Galvez 10:28 AM:
I have a date on Friday. That girl Jennifer from class.
Amy McDonald 10:30 AM:
I’m plotting a date with Ryan.
Eva Galvez 10:31 AM:
Plotting?
Amy McDonald 10:31 AM:
Don’t ask.
Sumira Khan 10:32 AM:
Rachel?
Rachel Weiss 10:38 AM:
Yes! I love holiday parties after the holidays are over. Let the merriment continue!
With a party for me to look forward to, my mood had considerably improved by the time the day’s creepy corporate question popped up on my screen. “How often does your daily work embody the phrase: ‘live large, learn lots’?” Honestly, who came up with these? You had to answer the daily questions, otherwise it got marked in your file that you didn’t participate in company culture. But the answers were all anonymous, so I made it fun for my own entertainment. Today I typed, “N/A. Prefer to live small and learn as little as possible.”
Having accomplished a reasonable day’s work before lunch, I rewarded myself by scrolling through predictions for that night’s episode ofThe Bachelor. Jane and the girls were coming over to collectively swoon over Jeremy Coltrain, the hottest bachelor in history. I’d learned early in my career never to put in too much effort at work, so my employer’s expectations would never get too high. It had served me well so far. I’d never been classified as an overachiever, and I always managed to scrape enough money together to pay my bills. Most of the time, anyway.
By the time Friday rolled around, I was so ready for Sumira’s party. The great thing about Sumira being a fancy account executive was all the beautiful people she worked with. It was clearly a company requirement to be drop-dead gorgeous—that couldn’t be legal, could it? Anyway, this party was step one in Operation Never Butkus, and I was prepared. So far I had shaved everything, exfoliated everything, done a moisturizing sheet mask, painted my nails, and whitened my teeth. I just needed to get my eyebrows waxed before the party.
I FaceTimed the girls. “Do my nails look okay?”
“What did you do?” Eva appeared to be hunched over the desk in her bedroom.
“It was just a bit tricky holding the nail polish brush steady. I had about six coffees today.”
