Page 137 of Giddy Up, Daddy

She gives me another shake and I pull away, annoyed.

“Say what?”

“Say ‘fuck them’.”

“Geez, okay, fuck them,” I mutter.

“Say it like you mean it.” I’ve never seen Sadie like this. She’s really on fire, so much so that I’m afraid not to do what she says. “Fuck them,” I say, a little louder this time.

“Fuck ‘em!” she screams behind me.

Her enthusiasm and passion are contagious and this time I scream it too, then dissolve into laughter.

“Good.” Sadie smiles. “Now tell them who you are.”

“I’m Elle freaking Winston.” I still feel silly, but saying the words out loud does help.

“That’s right. You’re Elle freaking Winston and you can be whoever and whatever you want to be,” Elle announces.

I scoff. I don’t even know what that means, really. Not for me. I’m fast approaching thirty and it feels too late to change who I am now.

Elle doesn’t notice my cynicism and keeps going. “You’re Elle Freaking Winston and you can be whoever and whatever you want!”

She looks at me expectantly and I get that she wants me to repeat it, so I do.

“I’m Elle Freaking Winston and I can be whoever and whatever I want!” It almost sounds like I mean it and as I look at myself in the mirror, I realize I kind of do.

“Good girl.” Elle grins. There’s a twinkle in her eyes that tells me that while yes, she’s being sarcastic, she knows exactly whatthose words will do to me. “So what do you want to do? Who do you want to be?”

“I don’t know.”

I’m lying. As I look at my reflection, I feel hope for the first time in longer than I can truly remember and I know the answer. I just don’t know if I’m actually good enough or ready to be that person yet. But I will be. I know I can be. And I have Sadie to thank for that.

Turning away from the mirror, I look at my friend and sigh. “Can you help me get my job interview rescheduled?”

Chapter Seventeen

Elle

“So, here are the classifieds that have come in this week.” Ashlynn, who is at least a decade younger than me—and by her own admission was hired here straight out of high school—thumbs through a message pad where customers have scribbled the details of their classifieds as they place them. “Now, all you need to do is type them out, bold the headlines, check the spelling, sort them into the appropriate categories, and compile them into one document. When you’re done, save it under Classifieds with Tuesday’s date and send it to Jeffrey. It’s just Jeff at the herald dot com. If you need to email anyone else here, it’s just the same format. And here’s your email login info.” She taps a post-it stuck to my desk, then grins. “Think you can handle that?”

I nod, so thankful I didn’t get stuck in a waitressing job. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. This I can do.

“Great.” Ashlynn grins at me. “When you’re done with that, come find me, and we’ll go over the different columns and stuff and the writers and the deadlines. It will be your job to kind of keep things organized as they come in.”

She walks away, leaving me alone, and I glance around. Newspaper offices are supposed to be bustling, but this one feels pretty dead.

Taking this job, even though it pays pennies, is just step one of turning myself into who I want to be. In letting my Dad and myself know that I do have something to offer, and it’s not just a pile of money that I earned simply by being born with his last name.

Have I convinced myself I can afford to give up my trust yet? No, but I’m working on it.

“Okay, let’s see.” The office is so quiet, I talk to myself as I pull up the first classified and type out the information. Someone is selling fresh goat milk. I choke back a gag, but type up the details, edit the ad, place it in the appropriate section, and move on to the next one. The Rose Center, a halfway house of sorts that’s actually named for Sadie—long story—is hosting a community open house for people to tour their facilities, learn about their programs and meet some of the residents. I type it up, then put a reminder in my phone to go, just to support Elle and Mack.

The third ad note stops me in my tracks. The name on the top twists my gut. Nate Bowery. I didn’t even know that was Nate’s last name, but this is him. He’s looking for a full-time, live-in nanny and housekeeper for his baby girl.

The knife in my gut twists. They’ve moved on so quickly. I wasn’t expecting that. All of a sudden, I’m questioning everything, even being here, doing this. My upcoming journey of self-improvement. All of it seems for naught as I force my fingers to type the words on the paper. I feel nauseous as they appear on the screen.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe they were just caught up in the moment. But there’s no time for my existential crisis, because I’ve got work to do andeven though I may be questioning everything, as of right now, this plan is the only one I’ve got.

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