Page 42 of Beautifully Ruined
But the truth is, I liked him long before I knew he was The Ghost.
All that did was complicate a growing attraction and affection.
It’s a lot to unpack, but it doesn’t remove a speck of the warmth.
I dry off, dry my hair, and get dressed. Then I text Lia.
Me:Hey you. Wanna grab something to eat?
Lia:Girl! Where have you been? I texted. I want you to spill the tea on those Isaac photos!
I haven’t even checkedmy messages. I know there are heaps of them. I’ve only checked emails from the school.
Being in a photo where a known politician is beaten down and then arrested is going to bring people out of the woodwork and my phone’s messages attest to that.
Me:Lunch? It’s not much…
Lia:No go on lunch. Drinks I can do. One or two. McClafferty on 48th?
Me:Got a meeting with my prof. After? Around midday?
Lia:Deal!
She’s not goingto rest until she gets the full story. Thing is, I don’t know the full story, so I need to make what I can give her perfect.
Professor Fisher tapsher pen on the desk as I sit opposite her.
“To get into the PhD program you’ll need to at the very least do another three weeks, minimum, in a political office.”
I nod, trying to think. I’m going to be set back, which is annoying, but I do have time. I’ve accelerated my courses, it’s just this stuff, the boots on the ground learning, that slows everything to a halt.
“And what’s available?”
She hands me one sheet of paper.
“The top ones are those willing to consider taking on a Master’s student this late in the internship game.” She shrugs. “Not every office wants to baby along a student.”
“I don’t think I need babying.”
“Your work at Isaac Stengal’s office was exemplary, and you have glowing references and letters from half the staff. But with Mr. Stengal gone, and all that scandal, a few who were willing dropped out, and others just don’t take on interns.”
Shit. “What else could I do?”
“Travel. The rest of the page are the top people I’d consider interning with if I was you and none of the Tri-State people work out or fit.”
I look at the page. Florida. Nebraska. West Virginia. Pennsylvania. The last one is probably the most appealing, until I look at the area. Rural.
Sure, some people go for those jobs as they’re meant to be easy. But I want a challenge. I want to intern in a place that marks me as someone destined for big things.
And while I’d take a genuine job somewhere like one of the places listed, for one of the candidates listed, the impact I have as an intern is nothing compared to what I’d have with a real job.
For me, the where and the who are the most important thing, and Professor Fisher knows it.
“There’s this, too.” She hands me a three-page list. “These are the ones who don’t have interns. Here in New York, from even smaller than Isaac, right up to mayoral candidates. The governor is intern-free, too.”
Her gaze flickers to me. “I’ve included twelve of the twenty-six New York congress reps, too. They don’t have anyone, and some say they never want one, but have in the past.”
“Thank you.”
