Page 14 of Wildcat
“Please.”
“I applied for a job with a bridal magazine,” Jade says, pulling my attention from the three shades of lipstick I’m deciding between.
“That’s great.” I turn from the chair in front of my vanity to look at her and smile.
“It’s a long shot. I have less experience than they’re looking for, but one of my classmates from college is an editor there, and she said she’d put in a good word.” She sits up, and I hold out the tubes of pink lipstick to get her opinion. She points to the one in my right hand, and I swivel back around to the mirror.
Jade is two years older, and unlike me, she went straight to college after high school, worked hard, and got a bachelor’s degree in journalism. She even used it for a short time, working with a local fishing magazine. Not long after, she quit and went back to the bartending job at Mike’s that she’d held through college because she said she makes more money and doesn’t have to write about nature. She is a girly girl through and through. The closest she wants to get to nature is a fancy-ass boat on a lake—her words.
“You really want to go back to a desk job? I thought you liked the hours at the bar.”
“I do, but I miss writing and researching, seeing my name on glossy pages. Though if I get this one, it’ll be mostly digital.”
I catch her in the mirror staring down at the old Cosmopolitan magazine and running a hand along the paper.
“You’ll get it. I can feel it. Good things are coming our way.” I kiss the air. “Now, how do I look?”
She gives me a once-over, and the corners of her mouth pull up into a smirk. “Like you’re heading off to eighth-grade graduation.”
“I wouldn’t have been caught dead in a dress with this much fabric in eighth grade,” I say as I smooth a hand down the skirt of my long dress. The cotton material falls to my ankles and has cute little tie straps at my shoulders. My mother has good taste. This dress is just a little more sophisticated and girly than I’d pick out for myself.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I plead. “My parents love you. You’ll be a good distraction.”
“Sorry, I have to get to the bar. I will check in later though.” She stands and places her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve got this. You’re a great photographer, and you’re following your dreams.”
I nod, soaking in some of that confidence.I have this.
I walk Jade upstairs and outside. Dad is in the garage working on his golf swing. He has a whole setup with a course simulation screen Mom got him for Christmas last year. The driver makes a loudthwack, and Dad curses under his breath as the ball goes left.
He looks up as we approach, and his scowl turns into a smile. “Hey, baby girl. Hi, Jade.”
“Hey, Coach Miller.” Jade has always called him this, even though he’s never beenhercoach, but I think my dad loves it. Both of my parents adore Jade. She’s polite, respectful, and responsible. She’s also impulsive and fun, but never at the detriment to her career or reputation. I don’t know how she does it.
“How’s the team looking?” Jade asks him.
“Good. We have a lot of young, talented guys.”
“Maybe I’ll actually watch a game or two this year,” she says with a sly smile. Neither of us is into sports, much to Dad’s disappointment. Cadence was the sporty daughter.
Dad grins back at her with an amused expression as Jade heads to her car.
I sit on a stool at his workbench on the side of the garage. “Lots of new talent, huh?”
“Mhmm.” He walks over with the golf club and takes a drink of water, then gives the end of one braid a little tug. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. Mom picked this out for me.”
His dark brows raise. “Uh oh. Trying to please your mother. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is great.” I roll my eyes and pull away. “Cadence is coming.”
“I heard.” He rests the club on the ground and leans into it. “How are classes going?”
I struggle to form a response but am saved by Cadence’s car pulling into the driveway. “She’s here.”
I hop down and jog to greet her. She hurries out of the vehicle, and we meet in the middle, hugging fiercely.
“Scar,” she says. “Oh, I missed you.”
