Page 25 of Vows in Sin
Best case scenario, my daughter would lose respect for me.
I leave the office. Stride down the hall. See the crate pushed up against the wall.
There’s a slip of paper sitting on top. Seeing it is like a fist to the gut. She’s left my number.
I tell myself it’s for the best.
I won’t let anyone stand between my daughter and me.
10
Seraphina
Josie wears a matte lipstick perfectly matched to her lip liner, just as I do. Only hers is a deep shade of mauve, mine’s bright pink. Her long golden hair gleams like a mermaid’s. She leans forward, offering me a hint of her sparkling bergamot scent.
She parts those perfectly made-up lips and smiles at me with a straight set of perfect teeth. “Welcome, Seraphina. I was so excited when my PA brought your resume to me.”
“That’s wonderful!” Hope sparkles in me like a glitter bomb’s gone off.
“This,” with the tip of her manicured nail, she taps the printed copy of my resume on her desk. “This is impressive. You’ve got some big-name companies on here.”
“I’ve been so fortunate! Made a lot of great contacts on the way.”
Her brow knits with polite curiosity. “You’ve been freelancing for a long time. Tell me. Why would you want to work for a company after having the freedom of working for yourself?”
Because, beautiful woman, no one will hire me after my stupid mistake. I wasted my time, my money, ruined my career, and lost all my self-respect.
Oh. And I tried to poison innocent teenagers.
Shaking my head with feigned innocence, I give my rehearsed answer. “It gets lonely at times. Working on my own and traveling on my own. I think it would be refreshing to be a part of a team. Collaborate with others. Ping off one another’s ideas.”
“Artists often prefer to work alone.” She flips the page, revealing photos I included with my applications. Glossy pages of successful campaigns. “Your work goes much deeper than basic marketing. It’s art.” The brow knits again. “Would it be difficult for you to work as part of a team when it comes to the creative aspects of the projects?”
“Not if everyone does exactly what I tell them,” I offer.
Josie gives me a look.
“Joke.”
She laughs, genuinely and warmly. She thinks I’m funny. Called my work art! We’re getting along famously. We chat for another thirty minutes as she picks my brain about my favorite projects.
Then, she asks, “And what was the last company you worked for?”
A rash of heat covers my face, making my skin feel prickly and tight. This was my main stumbling block when preparing myself for the interview. I don’t want to lie.
But I really don’t want to tell the truth, either. “We didn’t see eye to eye on the campaign.” I give a light laugh. “Can we just skip it?”
I think of that night with Dame, the hurt I felt when he ghosted me. The humiliation of failure. The desperation in seeking a stranger to punish me.
And I think of my sister.
She looked up to me. A lot. I want to be the girl I was in her eyes.
“Seraphina,” Josie says softly. “I do need to ask about your last client.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Then I tell the truth.
Finally, after a lot of tears, I went back and checked those notes I took at my meeting with Magda, a few days after the dismal meeting. It was there, clear as day, in my neat, scrolling handwriting—Magda’s vision.
