Page 18 of The Photograph

“I wish I knew.”

We can mix the bad apples with the good ones, but is that really going to solve the fundamental problem that we’re not delivering? A hollow sinking feeling worms through me. If I don’t sort the problems on Samsung, will I even still have a job?

What have I got to do to get my life to change? I took this amazing job with Jo, but I swear I’m making things worse, not better. I promised myself it would be different after Korea, but I’m still bailing out staff and my family and I’ve walked straight back into things with George.

I want to burn it all down and move to Alaska. I hear it’s very pleasant at this time of year.

8

DES

Twenty-four hours later I’m poking through the refrigerated section at my local deli, picking up and putting back salad boxes. What the fuck do I want for dinner? Although I would never abandon Jo, I actually did spend some time looking at tech jobs in Alaska last night like a maniac, but then I realized that the finances on my apartment don’t work, and the pay was shit.There is no escape.

As I bend forward, an ache spreads from the top of my head all the way down my spine. Samsung called this morning to expand the project we’re working on, and the idea that we might have even more to do, and I might need to go out to Korea again so soon, is making acid bubble away in my stomach.

Halfway through writing the proposal for the expanded project, I had to leave my desk strewn with schematics in a mad dash to meet my trainer at the gym, because I promised myself I was working out tonight and booked him days ago. He drove me through an hour of burpees and heavier and heavier weights, and when I pushed out into the cold night air past the mirror at the entrance to my gym, my face was beetroot red.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and then keeps on buzzing.Goddammit. My hand shakes as I put a bag of kale in my basket and pull it out.Unknown number.Telemarketers, those assholes.

“Hello?” I snarl.

“Des?”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Alex.”

Stomach and head-of-curls Alex. A cute guy farther back in the store stares back at me as I blink down the nearest aisle, wide-eyed. My gaze drops to the floor.

“How are you?” Alex says. “I was wondering what you’re up to tonight?” The words come out in a strange rush, like he’s nervous.

Seriously? He sends me a having-oral-sex-with-someone-else picture after he talked about going slow, and now he wants to meet me? The toing and froing with this guy. Of course, when I deleted his number, I completely missed the fact that he still had mine. I glance down at the tremor in my hand.Harden your heart, Des.

“I’m not sure that I’m really up for …”

“I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?” he whispers.

Goddammit. More complications I don’t need. I stare down at my basket, then squint at the cashier by the entrance and open my mouth, but my phone starts vibrating with an incoming call, and I take it away from my ear to check the screen.Marla. Fuck.

“Alex, I’ve got another call coming in that might be urgent. Let me ring you back.”

“Oh, okay. No worries.” His voice sounds hollow.

Fiddling with my phone for a couple of seconds, I almost drop it on the polished slate floor.

“Marla?”

“Dessy! The appliances here are so complicated. How does your microwave work?”

Microwave? She can’t use a microwave? You close the door, turn the dial, and press a button.

“I thought you were going out tonight to see this man of yours fight?”

“Oh my God! You could spend some time with your sister at some point. Or even come home to your apartment and help me with all these stupid gadgets.”

“Marla, I’ve been at work all day.”

“Until 7 p.m.?” she screeches.

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