Page 91 of Best Kept Secret
“Caroline, I?—”
Holding her hand up, she silences me. “I have one word of advice for you,Millie,” she spits my name like it’s vitriol, burning her tongue. “Go home. Go back tonowheresville, Texas. And don’t ever come back here. Sooner or later, this place will eat you alive and spit out your carcass for the scavengers. It’ll take every last ounce of your drive, your ambition, and your innocence, leaving you a depleted mess of worthlessness. You’ll be left to rot with the garbage that lines the streets in the early mornings waiting for the sanitation workers to collect it.”
I swallow around the lump of emotion that clogs my throat. I’m not upset by her graphic and specific words. I’m upset by what this place has so obviously done to her. Because I see it now. I see myself in Caroline. The girl who came here looking for greatness, thinking she was going to do amazing things. She’s long gone now, but I see her. And my heart breaks for her.
“Is this why you’ve been so mean to me?” I ask after a long silence, my voice weak and small. “You’ve been trying to get me to quit…” It’s a statement more than a question, because now, with the added benefit of hindsight, it’s glaringly obvious. I don’t think Caroline is an inherently horrible person; she’s been hurt, and she’s doing all that she can in the only way she knows how to stop me from making the same mistake she made.
Squaring her shoulders, Caroline heaves another exasperated sigh, meeting my eyes, her voice hushed and steely, full of warning. “Get out now, Millie. Get out before it’s too late.”
Despite Caroline’s warning, I don’t heed her advice. But a few hours later, while I’m at my desk, minding my own business and entering a new client into the database, I look up as Henry, one of the cocksure dealers from the trade floor, struts into the assistant hole carrying a tray of Starbucks.
He places a drink onto my desk with a salacious wink that makes my stomach roil, placing one each onto Michelle’s and Steph’s desks, my co-workers openly swooning at theseemingly sweet gesture. But as I look from the whipped cream topped concoction to the man standing there like he’s God’s gift to women everywhere, looking between the three of us like he’s waiting for something in return, that’s when it all crashes down one me. I push back on my chair, standing and packing my things into my purse as quickly as I can. I don’t have a lot, just a water bottle, an emergency jar of Nutella, and a framed photo of Logan and me from when he took me on the Circle Line.
“Are you okay, Millie?” Michelle asks.
I don’t bother answering her. And, pushing past Henry, I don’t even chance a look back as I continue out of the office.
“Babe, you did the right thing!” Emily says, her eyes wide. “That place sounds almost dangerous.”
Fran nods. “Rapeydangerous.”
“They should be investigated,” Hannah says, sipping her drink.
I stuff a handful of salted peanuts into my mouth, looking up at the game playing on the TV above the bar. The crowd around us cheers when Rusty scores a goal, bringing the Thunder’s lead up to four, with seven minutes remaining in the third.
After I walked out on my job, I wandered the city for a while, not sure where to go or what to do. Roaming a city as big as New York is kind of terrifying when you realize you’re suddenly unemployed. I called Emily and told her what happened, and she told her boss that there was a family emergency. She also managed to convince him that our family emergency involved Fran somehow, and the two women met me at a bar near their work in Midtown with Hannah in tow.
“I have no job.” I shake my head. “No job means no money. And no money means I’m going to have to go back to Texas…” Jesus. The thought of having to go back to Texas leaves me breathless in the worst way, and it has everything to do with the sheer possibility of having to leave Logan.
“Honey, you know Dallas will look after you until you find something,” Emily is quick to say, squeezing.
I shake my head again, vehemently. “I don’t want to take a handout.”
“Are you set on a career in finance?” Hannah asks. “Like, is conquering Wall Street your goal in life?”
I snort. “No. It never was. But it’s especially notnow.”
“Hmm,” Hannah hums. “One of the girls at work is finishing up soon to have her baby, so we’ll have her position available for at least twelve months. If it works out, then I’m sure they’d keep you on.”
I’m about to say something when Fran and Emily both look at Hannah with almost identical expressions of confusion. Hannah eyes both of them dubiously. “What?”
“It just dawned on me…” Fran begins contemplatively. “I have absolutely no idea what you do for work.”
“Me neither,” Emily says with a sheepish laugh.
“Are you guys for real?” Hannah deadpans.
They both nod.
Rolling her eyes, Hannah shakes her head. “I work for SNN.”
“SNN?” Fran’s eyes blow out wide as dinner plates. “As inthebiggest sports news broadcast in the country?”
Hannah nods slowly. “I’m in talent and acquisitions.”
My eyes widen. “EvenIknow SNN. And I don’t even like sports.”
“Maybe don’t lead withthatin your interview.” Emily snickers, nudging me.
