Page 7 of Now and Forever
"Goddamn you, Gaige!" she cursed and ran to her room.
Thirty-five minutes later she was sitting on the bus holding her freshly printed resume in a pink plastic folder. She tried not to think of the unprofessional color. Hell, she had barely been able to print the damn resume since her house was practically barren. Thankfully, the gas station at the end of the block had a printer. If any of her neighbors were looking that morning, they could have beheld the rare sight of her frantic face as she ran like a crazy woman down the street in mismatched clothes and worn sneakers.
For the hundredth time, she cursed Gaige's name.
Why was she even going to this interview? Staring out the window, Golden stared at the passing houses as the bus took the steep hill up to Stardust Heights. It was true, she did needmore income if she was going to stay here. Her scholarship at Juilliard certainly wasn't going to transfer to the university here in Stardust and no matter what discount residents got for the local college, the money she made singing at the lounge was not going to cover it. So, yes, she needed a job. But at Rosebank Publishing?!
Her stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Grayson again.
"Dear God, please don't let me see him," she whispered. "Or if I do, let him have turned into a troll or something." Maybe if he didn’t look like a gorgeous Greek God, maybe her brain could just focus on the hurt and anger she had toward the man instead of the polarizing feeling of both infatuation and the pain he caused her.
Maybe he won't be there, she thought. Yeah, right. Logic immediately dispelled that dream. Grayson hardly ever worked at their family's main company, Rosebank Capital Management, with his brother. After he started Rosebank Publishing years ago that was where he focused most of his time.
With every passing mile, her nerves grew worse and worse until she convinced herself she was just going to ride through the stop. Interview be damned. Golden would just reply to Malinda's email telling her how sorry she was and decline the interview. Unprofessional? Yes. But would it save Golden from having a full-blown panic attack? Also yes.
Within a few minutes, the bus pulled to a careful stop. Blinking, Golden looked out the window and caught sight of the four-story Art Deco building across the street. The office building was beautiful and austere with its geometric patterns and sleek lines reminiscent of a bygone era. The rich sienna hue of the exterior exuded sophistication along with the ornatemetalwork along the windows and entrance, with angular motifs and intricate flourishes adding subtle touches of elegance.
Without thinking, Golden got up from her seat and exited the bus. She found herself standing on the curb watching as the bus passed her by, leaving her to face her fears. Moments later, all the while cursing herself for actually doing this, she was inside seated in Malinda's office, the soft hum of the air conditioning providing a backdrop to their conversation.
"As you know," Malinda began with a smile. "Rosebank Publishing is a small but dedicated publishing house with two main interests. Our primary focus is onThorn and Quill, our award-winning quarterly literary magazine,” she added with pride. “The magazine features a curated selection of fiction, poetry, essays, and interviews from both emerging and established writers, poets, and artists. Additionally, we have a small imprint where we carefully select and publish a handful of authors from the thousands of submissions we receive each year. As a production assistant, your role will involve coordinating printing projects, ensuring the quality of our publications, managing inventory, and providing support with pre-press work and administrative tasks. You'll play an integral part in bringing our literary works to life and contributing to the success of Thorn and Quill."
Golden nodded. She had read every issue of Thorn and Quill since she met Grayson in her freshman year.
Malinda looked over to her computer monitor before looking back to Golden. "On your application, I see you are pursuing English as your major. If you are chosen for the position, I think this experience would be perfect for your resume and future opportunities."
"Thank you, I thought so too," Golden admitted. Although she still hadn't officially chosen between journalism and English, she was sure that was Gaige's doing.
"I see here that you went to Juilliard for two years for a Bachelor of Music in Opera Performance." While it wasn't technically a question, Golden could see the questioning look in Malinda's eyes, clearly wanting her to expound.
Golden forced herself to swallow the bitterness that rose in her throat at her mentioned failure. "Umm yes…I…I did study there until I left recently. It just didn't work out." As in she turned her back on a full-ride scholarship due to the overwhelming toxicity of that hellhole and now here she was back in her small town signing up to pay for college herself and go into debt like a dummy, she mentally added.
A look of understanding crossed Malinda's face and she nodded and stood up from her desk, prompting Golden to follow. "I get it. Sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs in life in order to find what you really want. Let me show you around before you leave."
The tour of the place was actually kind of great. Golden got to see way more of the inner workings of the building than she did the few times she visited in high school when Gaige brought her. When it was over and she said her goodbyes to Malinda and walked back out onto the bright sidewalk, Golden let out a sigh of relief. She never saw Grayson and even better, from what she could tell if she did get the position, it would be nowhere near him. The production assistant would work in the basement while he was on the fourth floor. Just maybe this could work.
Waiting for the light, she dashed across the street to the bus stop and sat on the shaded bench. Even the benches inStardust Heights were fancier than those down the mountain. Surrounded by blue and white hydrangeas, the bus stop felt like a mini photo booth rather than a regular bus stop.
She was sitting there playing on her phone when the hairs on her neck prickled with awareness. Looking up, her eyes drifted back to the four-story office building across the street and up to the large window on the fourth floor. Standing in the center of the window was a silhouette of a man holding a phone to his ear.
Golden's lungs stopped working as she stared up at the shadowed man. She could feel his gaze on her without even clearly seeing his face—it was Grayson Rosebank.
Chapter seven
Four years ago
Golden was sitting on the stone bench of the front garden when she heard the slight crunch of tires on gravel coming up the driveway. Squinting, she looked up from her book and smiled.
The black Mercedes-Benz SUV pulled to a stop in front of her just as the garage at the end of the drive opened. The black tinted window slid down, revealing Mr. Rosebank's chiseled face. Today he was wearing sunglasses. It took everything in Golden's power not to lift her phone and snap a quick picture.
Pulling his shades off his face, Grayson gave her a quizzical look. "Why are you out here?"
The apology was automatic as she quickly stood up, shoving her book into her backpack. "I'm sorry, I was just waiting for Gaige. He told me to wait for him at the house since I didn't feel like watching his lacrosse practice."
Even through the shadows of his vehicle, Golden could see Grayson's blue eyes sharpen on her. "You don't have to apologize to me, Golden."
The garage closed again and the door to his car opened and he got out. Carrying a dark, Italian leather briefcase, Grayson strode over to her, pausing to walk alongside her.
"I could have waited for you to park," she said with a laugh.
