Page 8 of In the Works

I’ll do it. But I’m keeping my other clients on and taking your advanced rate.

It was the boldest negotiation I’d ever done. But it was the only way to make it work. I’d need to hire more babysitters and buy more takeout. The higher rate was the only way that would be possible.

Before I could second guess myself, I hit send. The familiarwhooshtold me the text was gone, out in the ether for Vic to read.

My chest tightened. A large part of me worried this was a huge mistake. A client like Vic would have immense expectations for a designer, and I’d never taken on a project for a billionaire with such extravagant taste.

Shaking the thought, I let the air trapped in my lungs escape through pursed lips. If I wasn’t willing to take a risk, my business wasn’t ever going to grow.I have to bet on me.

5

BRI

My heart was poundingin my chest as I walked away from Sarah. It had been a few years since I last spoke to her, and that was by design.

Heading toward the checkout, I tried not to look back over my shoulder at her. She was somehow more beautiful than I remembered. Of course, I’d seen her briefly at town events. And as soon as I did, I would turn on my heels and basically sprint out of there.

I set my purchases on the self-checkout station and started to scan them. The ax felt heavier in my hand, like my wrists had gone weak.

“Need any help today?” A cashier smiled as she paced from station to station.

I shook my head and offered a gentle smile. “No, thanks.”

After I paid, I grabbed my ax – and the new wedge I had thrown in – and walked stiffly

through the sliding doors. Once I was out of the store, I nearly sprinted to my truck. Unlocking the door, I slid into the driver’s seat.

I didn’t feel like I could breathe until the door slammed behind me.

“Fuck.” I hissed as I caught my breath.

It felt ridiculous. Sarah and I had been friends for over two decades. But somehow, seeing her made me feel like I was drowning.

I tried to shake the feeling as I turned the truck’s key, the click of the ignition eventually giving way to the engine’s roar. I put the car in drive and sailed out of the parking lot toward home.

The winding roads always helped clear my mind. I submitted myself to the meditative nature of the drive, trying to stop my anxious excitement from taking the wheel. New Winford’s suburbs gave way to the backwoods in a matter of minutes.

But as my truck chugged up the curves of the mountain, my mind was flooded with memories of teenage Sarah. We used to drive these same roads to the overlook all the time. I could still picture her in the passenger seat, belting out the lyrics to Alanis Morrisette.

She was pretty then… and desperately in love with Jason, the football team’s star line-backer. It was all she’d talk about, how badly she wanted to be with him. And all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss her.

Shaking my head, I made a right onto Harding Road, a one-lane street pretending to be two-way. The driveways became few and far between as I scanned the edge of the road for critters that might jump onto the asphalt.

Before I knew it, I was turning down my long, potholed driveway. It was a bumpy ride, but I had no intention of ever filling the pits – with massive lumber trucks coming up and down nearly every day, the holes would just form again anyway.

Along the trees lining the sides were a few wood sculptures. Most of them were abstract, not distinctly any one thing. But afew of them were recreations of things like my childhood dog or a local waterfall.

At the fork in the driveway, I kept left and headed up the small hill to my house.

Turning off the car and flinging open the door, I was greeted by the singing birds and the rustling leaves.

My body relaxed at the noise. It was easy to forget just how bustling New Winford had become in the last couple of years. But the quiet of these woods was constant.

My boots crunched the loose gravel as I grabbed my gear from the backseat and walked toward the house. At the door, I was greeted by a loud meow.

“Hey, Oakkie.” I bent down, careful to keep the ax blade away from the calico’s head. Petting him, I shut the door behind me. When I stood upright, he stretched toward me. He reached his paws up toward my hands, begging for more neck pets.

I leaned the new ax against the doorframe and caved, giving him the attention he so desperately needed.

---