Page 49 of The Weekend Crashers
“There you are!” Gretchen says. “You avoiding me, lady?”
“Um, you fired me as a client.”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgment. And I totally respect your hard-to-get vibe, but can we put a pin in it for now? Because, Piper, you were right. The fallworked.”
“What do you mean, ‘worked’? It was an accident.”
“Well, whatever you want to call it, thanks to that clip going viral, I have tons of go-sees for you—including print jobs. The real deal. My assistant will follow up with an email, but I wanted to get this on your radar ASAP. Can you swing by the office Monday morning?”
Piper feels cornered. Trapped. “Actually, I’m on vacation.”
“Piper,” Gretchen says, her voice dropping to convey gravity. “I say this for you, not for myself: Don’t miss your moment. We have a short window to capitalize on this. Seize the day and all that. Let’s get you in front of these people and make some real money.”
“I need some time to think,” Piper says.
“Well, don’t think too hard,” Gretchen says. “You’re lucky to have this second chance.”
And she abruptly ends the call.
Piper sits and stares at the painting hanging on the wall directly across from her. It’s another oil painting, this one a Revolutionary War scene. She replays the call in her mind, then she picks up her phone again and FaceTimes Ethan. When the video appears on her screen, she can see he’s in Central Park.
“Hey,” she says, smiling.
“Hi! You have a break in the action over there?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It’s so good to see him. He’s wearing his college hoodie with an army-green coat she hasn’t seen since last winter. His big brown eyes are bright and his fair skin is ruddy. His lips are red and chapped, and she misses him with a sharpness that’s almost physical.
“I miss you,” she says.
“I miss you too.”
She glances down the hall at the Purl. “I only have a minute because I ducked out of a workshop. But the weird thing is that Gretchen called me to say the viral post of my fall is getting me job offers. So she wants me to come in on Monday.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “So now the fall is a good thing?”
“I know. It’s ridiculous. And I told her I need to think about it. Since she fired me, I’ve been kinda relieved.”
“You have?”
“Yes. I want to quit, but there’s no way to justify it to myself, or to my mother, especially. And I think that’s what’s been making me so anxious the past few months. I think it’s why I fainted on the runway. It was like... subconscious self-sabotage.”
“You don’t want to model anymore?” he says.
“I don’t know. Maybe not. But I can’t just quit. What if now’s my chance to actually start making good money doing this?”
“The money isn’t worth it if you’re miserable. And does Maggie know you feel this way?”
Not if she can help it. “No.”
“Maybe you should tell her.”
“Why?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Let’s talk about this when you get back.”
Aboutwhat? “No, let’s talk about ‘this’ now.”
He backtracks, tells her it’s nothing. Tells her he loves her. And she knows he does. But she also knows it’s not nothing. Why’s he in such a rush for her to talk to Maggie about work? He knows she’s just going to push her to stick with it. Maybe that’s what he thinks deep down, and doesn’t want to be the one to tell her.
