Page 137 of Tell Me When It's Over

Blushing over the subtle compliment, I shift from one foot to the other. “I’ve done a few things to help some people I know and shadow a friend a little bit. He shows me the ropes when he thinks it’ll benefit me.”

Gordy has always been kind to me, but he’s gone above and beyond what I expected him to when I asked about getting experience in the field. It started out as little things—giving me problems to find solutions for, guiding me in helping Kyler draft certain statements, or plan specific events surrounding his new single, and have gotten progressively larger.

“Anybody I know?”

“Gordon Fuller. He manages Kyler Bishop and a few other people. Um, he just signed a new client that’s supposed to be really big news. Emilia Reinhard.”

Recognition flashes in her eyes, followed by a small, knowing smile that I almost think I imagine. “I’ve heard of her. And him, for that matter. He does well with Kyler, so I’m sure he’ll do great things for Millie too.” She definitely knows his new client considering that’s the nickname I’ve heard Gordy call her when he tells me about a few things he’s booked her for—mostly television performances, but she’s working on an EP now with the same label Kyler is with, which makes stacking meetings with Kalvin, the producer, easier for the management wizard who I’ve always looked up to.

“Can I ask,” Professor Adams adds, “who the woman is you reference in earlier papers? You said there was a neighbor who influenced you to pursue this line of work because of the intricate stories she would tell, but I don’t recall you saying a name. Some of the methods you use remind me of an oldie in the business.”

Oh. Hadn’t I? “Well, I always called her Ms. Wynona because that’s what she told me to call her the day we met. She technically lived a couple apartments down from me, but I saw her almost every day. I think her last name is—”

“Ramirez? Wynona Ramirez?”

My eyes widen. “You know her?”

Her lips form a gentle smile. One of awe, and pleased surprise which I know well. “A lot of people do, Leighton. Did you know she was one of the first women to dominate this industry? She worked harder than any other person I know to get to the top, representing people like Brooke Mayfield, Andrew Singer, and David Goul

d.”

Jaw dropping at the huge multi-billionaire names, I gape at her. Ms. Wynona made it sound like she worked with a few rising stars before calling it quits. She never talked about her career journey much, only how much she loved seeing the looks on her clients faces when their true talent was recognized as it deserved to be. Because of her, I wanted the same thing—to see the beaming faces of those I help build up, to celebrate every small and large victories, and to be a part of their journey for as long as they’d have me. “I…she never told me. I didn’t know that.”

The woman in front of me shakes her head in amusement. “I’m not shocked. Wynona was always a humble woman. It’s a shame she never came back after her husband died.”

I never met her husband, but I’d hear little tidbits about him when Ms. Wynona would go off on tangents, almost as if she was in a different world when she’d bring him up. I always thought she was some sort of cat lady who loved telling neighbor kids stories of her past. There was always such passion in every story, keeping me and whoever else would listen enamored. “I never met him,” I admit sadly.

Professor Adams nods once. “He’s the reason she decided to leave. Said something about finding the one to settle down with. Truthfully, I modeled myself after her, up until leaving my job for a man. But that’s Wynona. She loved him so deeply. Love at first sight, type thing. I never believed in that, but she sure did.”

That’s so…romantic. “I lost touch with her after I moved to California years ago. I tried tracking her down once, but the new landlord at the complex told me there wasn’t a woman by that name there anymore.”

I’d told Mom that I wanted to find her, which she scoffed at and told me it was a lost cause, but it didn’t deter me. I spent more time with Ms. Wynona than I did with her, so why wouldn’t I at least try figuring out where she was?

A sad smile greets me. “Unfortunately, she passed away a few years ago. A stroke, I believe. There was a dedication to her by many of the clients she made famous. She touched a lot of lives.” The smile that’s bittersweet, wrenched with grief, turns into something softer. “It seems like she still is. You were taught by the best of the best, Leighton.”

Who would have thought I’d meet somebody like Ms. Wynona in a run-down apartment building who was actually well-known? Part of it doesn’t make sense. I’m sure she had money to live somewhere far nicer, maybe even move back here where people knew her better after her husband died. I vaguely remember her saying there was too much tying her to Phoenix to move elsewhere. She’d disappear for hours at a time every afternoon, making sure she was always back by the time I got home from school to share a new story. She always looked sad until she’d start talking, then whatever made her eyes dim would seemingly disappear as she spoke. It makes me wonder if she’d spent the time away from her apartment to visit the man she loved a few blocks down at the cemetery.

Hearing the kind woman who always gave me the time of day when nobody else did has passed away makes me wish I’d tried harder to find her. To say what, I’m not sure. Truthfully, I think she would have said plenty for me. Given me a hug, maybe, like the one she gave me before I left. If I’d known it would be the last one, I would have made it count.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” my professor says, squeezing my shoulder. “Perhaps now will be a good time to tell you that I’m interested in offering you a scholarship.”

A scholarship? “What?” I must not have heard her right, but the look on her face tells me otherwise.

“Yes. It’s from the Ramirez Project, which funds students like yourself studying PR programs. Once awarded, it can be used at any institution, covering the entire four years.”

A full scholarship? “You’re joking, right?” Once upon a time I thought I’d be offered a full ride by being top of my class, but when those expectations fell through, I accepted I’d be facing a ton of student debt if I decided to pursue any type of college education—something I wasn’t sure I’d go for if it hadn’t been for Kyler.

“I’m not,” she assures me. “I’m also curious as to see if your interests have been homed in on where to work.”

Confused, my brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot of opportunity on the east coast. The industry is saturated here because of the startup it takes, especially in entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, Leighton, it’ll take a lot of work to get where you want to be no matter where you choose to go, or who guides you, but I feel like you’d do very well in New York.”

Did she just…? “New York,” I squeak, struggling to swallow. I notice a few glances from my classmates before blushing and lowering my voice. “I wasn’t expecting that. Any of this. It’s…a lot. I’m flattered that you’d think of me, but would I need to apply for this? Or—”

“It’s yours if you truly want it,” she tells me earnestly. “I know when people have what it takes to be great, and you’re one of them. If you choose to stay here, the scholarship will still be yours, but I highly suggest considering the east coast. There are opportunities that await you wherever you go, Ms. Grier, if you allow yourself the chance to find them.”

I almost forget to breathe as she offers me the sage advice, which I soak in greedily.

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