Page 62 of Caribbean Crush

Right, Casey. I’m hearing you loud and clear and my advice is very simple: reconsider that ultimatum.

You have a good thing going in your position and you, more than anybody, should realize how difficult it is to get your name on bylines. Gabriel interned with us for three years before he was ever given an assignment! Now, I understand you’re hungry and I like to see your enthusiasm. That’s just what Bon Voyage needs! I might be able to chat with HR to see about getting you a little bump in your salary. ;) No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.

Gabriel interned for three years ...

Three years . . .

Is she serious right now?

Is she fucking serious!

I interned for four years—all through college, all unpaid. Then, then, once I graduated, I took the lowliest position they would give me, just to get my foot in the door. I was told there was a pecking order in place, that if I was willing to stick it out for a year or two, they could find a spot for me on the journalism team. Now, I realize that was never going to happen. Years have slipped by. I’ve taken on the grunt work as a fact-checker, and I’ve kept my head down. I’ve never asked for an extension on a project. I’ve never slacked off. Hell, I’ve never even asked for a raise!

I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face.

Time seems to stand still as I sit there letting tears roll down my cheeks.

I’m surprised at how many come, at the well of anger and indignation I feel over Gwen’s brush-off. It’s clear she has no intention of promoting me, ever. I feel so completely used and led on. Worse, I feel stupid, like this is somehow my fault. Maybe I should never have accepted such a lowly position in the first place, maybe I should have fought harder, forced a meeting with Gwen, really put myself out there. Maybe as my grandmother was dying of cancer I should have been caring more about my career and how to trample my way to the top. Apparently, toiling away as a quiet worker bee gets you absolutely nowhere.

I’m nothing to Gwen. I’m nothing to anybody, and that realization comes like a searing stab in the gut. I want to keel over and give in to the overwhelming anger.

It’s not fair. This life is not fair.

I want to rage.

I want to fire off another email right away. I want the satisfaction that would come from telling her off. I could put in my two weeks’ notice and revel in that power.

Instead, I sit numbly, letting my laptop fade to black as it goes to sleep. I see my reflection in the shiny screen. A lost, lonely girl, unsure of her future now more than ever.

Sometime later, there’s a knock on my door.

Sienna’s sweet voice. “Casey? You in there?”

I don’t reply.

“Casey?” she asks again, knocking a little harder.

I listen to her footsteps as she walks away down the hall. Then I shoot to my feet and run for the door, flinging it open and calling out to her.

She turns, her smile shifting into a sympathetic frown once she gets a good look at me.

“Oh no. Casey. What’s wrong?”

Chapter Sixteen

CASEY

I feel sedated by the calm blue water surrounding us. There’s not a wave as far as I can see. Just deep ocean and sky that stretches on forever. It’s late afternoon, and Sienna and I are lounging by the pool on board Aurelia. I’m lying on my stomach with my chin in my hands, staring at nothing, really.

“Are you thinking about it again?” Sienna asks me.

I’ve gone quiet on her, but I can’t help it.

This morning, after a long discussion in my suite where I filled her in as best as I could on my job and why I’ve hit a wall, she convinced me to join her and a few others for a tour of Saint Thomas, culminating in a cocktail tasting on the beach. Apparently, the Virgin Islands are known for four cocktails in particular: the painkiller, the bushwhacker, the banana daiquiri, and the rum punch. The painkiller was my favorite and not just because the name was so fitting for my horrible day. It was a delicious blend of pineapple juice, orange juice, coconut cream, and dark rum that immediately slipped me right back into vacation mode. Well ... at least for the length of time it took me to finish the fruity drink.

Then my pit of despair returned in full force.

It’s helpful to have Sienna by my side, though, acting like a Band-Aid. I feel like I have to keep it together for her sake. I don’t want to break down again here, poolside, while everyone else is having the time of their lives. There’s a DJ playing fun dance music and waiters passing around drinks and complimentary snacks, trying to ensure everyone is well taken care of. The atmosphere is really fun, but I can’t help but feel wholly apart from it all.

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