Page 5 of Power

“Fable—”

“I’ll even start for free—”

“Fable! It’s an executive administrative position.”

My enthusiasm dies, along with my willingness to work for free. “Wait, what?”

“Your Aunt Marlena called in a favor for you. A woman from her church said her daughter works for this terrific real estate investment company, and the CEO is in dire need of an assistant.”

“Well, I hope he finds one. I’m not—”

“In the position to argue. You need a job, Fay.”

“I have a job.”

“No, you have a distraction. The bar is your way of avoiding life. Your culinary ambitions didn’t work out, and that’s okay! We don’t love you any less, but you need to get back out there and get a job.”

“Again, Ihavea job.”

“Again, you have a distraction. Listen—your father and I love you very much.”

“But. . .” There’s always a but.

“But you need to pull it together. You’re twenty-three. You need to get passed this setback and get back out there.”

“I tried. Look where it got me.”

“We didn’t raise you to be a quitter. It’s time you got a real job and earned your way.” She pauses, then says, “Plus, your father and I have plans. Things we’ve wanted to do. We thought you would be out on your own by now.”

One inquisitive brow rises, and I cross my arms over my chest as I stare back at my mother. “What are you getting at?”

She shifts from foot to foot. “We found you an interview, so it’s time to suck it up. . . and, well, consider moving out.”

***

The. Audacity.

Telling meIneed to suck it up? I have sucked it up. I got back on the horse and found a job. It might be at a dive bar working ’til three in the morning most nights serving the thirsty patrons of America, but it’s still a job! I show up, get paid, and have responsibilities!

I also threw up in my parents’ driveway two nights ago. Damn Jäger shots. The point is, I’m still fragile. Hiding away at night is what’s best for me right now. Certainly not being an assistant to some old man who probably smells like mold in a stuffy office and—never mind. No need to keep dramatizing this.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and I grab it, Mindy’s name rolling across my screen. “Hey.”

“You go in yet?”

“About to walk in. Did you know pantyhose comes in seventeen different flesh colors?”

“Ew, no. Why are you in pantyhose? What are you, a grandma?”

“My mom told me I had to wear them. Great. Maybe I should stop at the restroom and take ’em off. They’re really uncomfortable.”

“And stupid. Besides that, are you prepared?”

“By prepared, you mean. . .?”

“Did you Google who you’re going to work for? Study the company? I’m no corporate guru, but I would at least do that.”

“The only thing I Googled was the address.”

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