Page 27 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
“The power’s back.”
I don’t like it. The roads will clear soon and this little snowstorm bubble we’ve been living in will come to an end.
“Thank heavens,” she breathes, immediately heading for the thermostat to turn up the heat. “I was starting to think we’d never have electricity again.”
I close the door behind us, already shedding my wet outer layers. “We were running low on candles, anyway.”
JJ makes a beeline for the TV remote while I put my phone on the charger.
“... authorities urging residents to stay off the roads unless absolutely necessary,” the anchor is saying. “Crews are working around the clock, but many side streets remain impassable. Schools will remain closed through at least Wednesday, possibly longer depending on conditions.”
JJ and I exchange a look. “Wednesday? That’s three more days,” she says.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other a little longer,” I observe, watching her carefully for her reaction.
Her expression gives little away, but the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth tells me all I need to know. “I think I can manage.” She stands, plucking at her wet clothes. “But not in these. I’m freezing.”
While JJ showers, I check my messages. Dozens of emails and a few texts from Kamal and Antonio, checking in. I send quick responses, letting everyone know I’m fine but snowed in.
When JJ emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe, her hair piled atop her head, I’m still engrossed in catching up on work correspondence.
“Your turn,” she says, gesturing to the bathroom. “I left you a clean towel.”
The hot shower is blissful after the cold. I take my time, letting the steam and heat melt away the last of the chill from our snow adventure. By the time I emerge wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, I feel human again.
I find JJ at the dining table, surrounded by papers, face screwed up in concentration. She’s changed into leggings and an oversized sweater, her feet bare despite the lingering chill in the apartment.
“What’s all this?” I ask, gesturing to the spread of documents.
She looks up, startled, as if she’d forgotten I was here. “Oh, um, just some work stuff. I have to prepare for an interview.”
I move closer, curious. “Interview? Are you looking for a new job?”
She hesitates, then sighs. “Vice principal position. At my school. The current VP is retiring at the end of the year, and they’re interviewing internal candidates first.”
This is news to me. “I didn’t know you were interested in administration.”
“It’s always been the plan,” she admits, shuffling papers nervously. “Teach for ten years, move into administration, eventually become a principal and then possibly superintendent. The timeline’s a bit accelerated—I’ve only been teaching for five years—but the opportunity’s too good to pass up.”
I sit across from her, genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing, JJ. When’s the interview?”
“Next Monday. Assuming the roads are clear by then.” She grimaces.
“Let me help,” I offer, reaching for one of the papers on the table.
She snatches it away. “You?”
“I own a billion-dollar company,” I remind her. “I interview people for a living. I know what makes a candidate stand out.”
“This is different from corporate hiring.”
“The fundamentals are the same. Confidence. Clear communication. Evidence of past success.” I lean forward, challenging her with my gaze. “Let me help, JJ.”
After a moment’s consideration, she slides a sheet toward me. “These are the expected questions. I’ve been drafting responses.”
I scan the list, noting the expected mix of experience questions, scenario-based problems, and leadership philosophy inquiries. “Standard stuff. What are you most worried about?”
She chews her lip, an endearing gesture she does when thinking deeply. “The leadership questions, I think. I have plenty of classroom experience, but my leadership roles have been limited. Committee work, some department coordination.”
