Page 41 of When There Was You
I stifle a smile. “Is sex all you think about?”
He shrugs. “It’s the only thingworththinking about. And you need some good dick more than anyone I know.”
“Whatever,” I dismiss, trying not to think about thegood dickI’ve had…and lost.
I’ve tried to move on, toget out there, as everyone says. No one ever comes close to doing it for me. Mick and Remy ruined me for life. The longest I’ve stayed interested in a man is under four weeks, and the one time I caved on sex… I shudder remembering that disappointing debacle.
I glance at my watch. “You about ready? I need to get back to the office.”
“Me too. I’ve got an art department meeting in twenty.”
We stand and clean up our mess, dumping everything into the trash. As we pass the nice-looking male my colleague ogled, the guy does a double take, appraising me top to bottom.
“Bitch,” Jay mutters when we emerge onto the bustling streets of San Francisco.
I laugh. “When you’re hot, you’re hot…”
“The worst part is you won’t even sample that gloriousness.”
“He’s not a slab of meat.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong—and why you’re single, Jacqui.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“But right,” he singsongs.
I’melbows deep proofreading the June issue of the magazine when my phone beeps, one of the squares lighting up with an incoming call. “Jacqui,” I answer, eyes glued to the spread showcasing where to find the best sushi in the city.
“Need you in my office,” Eleanor says, all-business.
When I began working here, my no-nonsense boss freaked me out a tad. Fresh out of college, I had zero professional experience and barely interacted with the few employers I’d had. She intimidated me until I understood her better and found my rhythm as her assistant.
“On my way.”
I snag a notepad and pen and walk to her corner office. She’s focused on writing in a thick tome she calls her “work bible.”
When I rap my knuckles on the dense door, Eleanor waves me in. “Close the door.”
My insides twinge. Have I done something wrong?
“Have a seat, Jacqui.”
Nervous flutters amplify as I drop into one of her contemporary lime chairs. Through her window, a slice of the deep blue bay cuts through the skyscrapers.
She steeples her hands, elbows resting on her black metal desk. “I have an opportunity for you.” A small smile plays at her lips.
Maybe I’m getting another story. I’ve had a dozen so far while balancing my editorial assistant responsibilities.
“One of the five publications in our group,Virginia Now, has an opening, and it’s an editorial position for the Travel & Culture section. As much as I hate to lose you, I think you’d be perfect for it.”
My heart trips so hard, a thud reverberates in my chest. My mouth forms a silent O as my thoughts riot. Virginia. Writing. Thetravel section. “Wow, th-that’s…amazing,” I finally sputter.
She acknowledges with a terse nod. “Had a hunch you’d like it. You’ll have to fly out for a formal interview, but with our endorsement, you should be a front runner. And if you get the job, they’ll pay a stipend for relocation costs.”
This is a dream come true, and it’s not like I’m tied to California. Even though…it’s my home, embedded in my cells, containing some of my favorite people.
“Thank you, Eleanor. Your faith in me means a lot. I love working atSan Francisco Life.”
