Page 29 of One Taste
“For a little while at least.”
“Can’t you find solid work around here?”
I turn to face him. “I’m working on it, big bro. I want to stay here as much as you want me to. I’m ready to come home.”
The pang in my chest has me wondering if I should take theNBCjob after all. But deep down, I know I’ll regret it if I do.
“I don’t get why you work with these people who find you job opportunities all over the world. Why can’t they just focus on this city? It’s New York, isn’t there always a need for super smart people who have a ton of degrees like you?”
I chuckle. “With recruiters it’s more about the title than the location. Companies looking for people like me aren’t putting out ads in the paper. I’ve worked my ass off to get this far and I want the best possible position I can find for all that work.”
Growing up, our family struggled. Often. There were nights I remember hearing my mom cry herself to sleep as Dad tried to convince her it would all be okay. I hated seeing the sadness in my parents’ eyes and I hated not being able to do all the same things my friends did because we couldn’t afford it. I promised myself around the age of ten, when my parents informed me I couldn’t join cheerleading with my friends because it just wasn’t in the budget, that I would work hard, as hard as I could, to get the best job and make sure when I started a family, I would be able to give them everything they ever wanted.
An MBA in marketing was a lot of fucking work, especially when you complete the program in fourteen months. I went on what felt like dozens of interviews before I got lucky with landing the Apple internship I got while completing my MBA. I’ve made sure to kick ass at every job I’ve taken so that I could move on to the next one and finally get to where I want to be—at the top. I’m damn good at what I do. I understand the science behind advertising and what draws people in. I’ve proven it time and time again
“I get it, Dev. You’re talking to someone who puts his life on the line every time he puts on his uniform because the job makes me happy.”
A reminder of how dangerous my brother’s job is has me frowning at him. “God, I hate your job.”
“And I hate yours,” he says with a laugh.
The final stream of coffee flows from the machine and I grab the pot and two mugs, heading toward the kitchen table.
“So, tell me about these job offers?” Mark asks as we sit, and I pour us each a cup.
“One is the assistant to the VP of sales atNBCand the other is an interim CEO position with an ad agency.”
He takes a sip from his mug. “What’s wrong with the old CEO?”
“Word is that he can’t keep his life, or his dick, out of the gossip rags for longer than two days. It’s a family business and his sister and father feel he shouldn’t be the face of the company right now, even if it ishiscompany.”
“So, he’s bad for business?”
“Pretty much.”
“You sure you want to get involved in that?” Mark looks at me wearily. “Sounds like it could get messy if media is involved. What about theNBCjob?NBChas some clout behind their name.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I nod. “NBCwould be amazing, but for some reason I feel like not taking the opportunity to gain some real experience at the top, during a rough time in the company, wouldn’t be doing myself any favors. It sucks that it’s a temporary position, but it’s a fabulous addition to my resumé. The company is a big name, and if I can be the one to bring them back to a high status, it’ll be ahugewin for me.”
I still haven’t looked up anything about the company yet as I don’t want to go in with any preconceived notions, but Brielle did tell me that they are a pretty big deal. “Then, I guess you already know what you’re going to do. When do you start?”
“I haven’t accepted the position yet.” I pause, taking a sip of my coffee. “I guess I just wanted to make sure I was 100% certain before I made any calls.”
“You seem pretty certain to me. What’s the former CEO like?”
“I didn’t meet him yet,” I say, hoping to avoid the subject of Mr. Fuckable CEO.
“Did you google him?”
I toss my hands up in the air, tired of that question. “Why does everyone feel the need to google everyone else?”
His grin is the same as the one Brielle had at breakfast last week. “Wow, defensive much? What’s the deal?”
“Nothing.” I brush it off. “Ijusthad this conversation with Brielle. I didn’t google him, because I want to form an unbiased opinion of him.”
A chuckle escapes his lips, and I shake my head. “What are you so worried about? He’s probably some oldFortune 500guy who likes to bang his assistant during lunch.”
“He isn’t old,”
