Page 7 of Back for More
“So…Wes Carver is your Vice President of Real Estate Investment?”
“Yes, for a year now. He’s risen up in the ranks here rather quickly.”
“Wow, that’s…interesting.” I don’t know why this is so surprising to me. Wes had interned at the company, back when I was a senior in high school, but it never occurred to me that he’d want to work there for real. “I didn’t realize he was interested in that kind of thing.”
“He majored in business.In college.”
“Oh. Right.” I can’t help but feel the sting when he says the wordsin college.I know how disappointed he is that I opted out of a post-secondary education. I, however, am disappointed that he doesn’t acknowledge my acting classes and degree from the School of Hard Knocks. “So, you want me to work for him? For Wes Carver? As his assistant?”
“The assistant to the Vice President of Real Estate Investment is currently the only position we have available, and it must be filled immediately. If you do not want the job…”
I’d rather go back to waiting tables in LA and playing Hot Girl #2.
I’d rather go back to waiting tables in LA and playing Plain Jane Waitress #4 than be Wes Carver’s secretary.
I sigh. “I want the job.”
Now I’m going to have to go back to Denny’s to shave my legs and change into something business-slutty.
“Glad to hear it. They’re expecting you in HR. Wes will be expecting you when you’re done filling out the paperwork. I’ll be in meetings for the rest of the day, so I’ll see you back at the house. Your room is ready for you. Vicky’s excited to see you.”
“I’m excited to see Vicky,” I say acerbically. Because this is who I will always be to my dad, apparently. His unloved, sarcastic teenage daughter.
Now it’s his turn to sigh. “I’mlooking forward to seeing you too, Lily. Bye now.”
I inspect my reflection in the Denny’s bathroom mirror after wiping my armpits with paper towels and spritzing myself with the perfume I usually reserve for nighttime excursions. My hair is fluffed, my lips are stained red, and I’m wearing the black pumps I got to keep from my modeling gig for the Banana Republic catalog. I look like I’m going on a business date. And my palms are sweating. And the walls might be closing in. And fuck my life.
When I was in New York and LA, I tried taking beta blockers before auditions. At school in Belford, even though I showed up for the auditions, it was always a given that I’d be cast in the lead female role of whatever play or musical we were doing, primarily because my grandmother had donated the money for the school’s theater. Real auditions were a new, weird thing for me, and breathing techniques for calming down suck balls. Beta blockers sort of worked for me, for a while. They’re like Spanx, but for stress. Holds it all in. A lot of performers use them for performance anxiety because they slow your heart rate down, thus making you feel calmer while standing in the middle of a room as your talent, resume, and looks are being judged by total strangers. After a while, though, I realized they made me a little too numb. So I stopped taking them. I have one left, and I’ve been saving it for the end of the world.
There are three things that secretly get my heart racing to the point where I feel like a spazzy teenager: the release of a new Taylor Swift/Beyoncé/Ed Sheeran album; binge-watchingSpongeBob SquarePantsepisodes while wearing face masks and teeth-whitening strips; and the thought of seeing Wes Carver’s smokin’-hot face after all these years. I would rather eat glass than admit any of this to anyone.
So you’d better believe it’s the end of the world and I’ll be taking that last beta blocker before walking into the Barnes Group offices this afternoon. Because even though I already have the part, I will have to give the performance of a lifetime to convince everyone I’m down for this.
If me being Wes’s assistant was Wes’s idea, then I will calmly and rationally explain to him that he has to be joking.
If my father set this up as some kind of a test, then I will pass it. I will ace it, and I will crumple it up and toss it in his smug face as soon as I turn twenty-four. Screw living in Belford for the rest of my life.
I’m only back for now.
