A Clean Slate by Laura Caldwell Page B

envious.”
    â€œStill confused over here.”
    She sighed. “You’ve got a whole new lease on life, and you’re following a dream by interviewing for this assistant job.”
    I played with my beer bottle, thinking about that for a second. “I don’t know if this Cole guy could ever fulfill a dream for me. Sounds a bit wacko.”
    â€œThat’s not the point. You’re trying to break into a profession that you’re passionate about.”
    â€œWhat about you? You’ve already broken into your profession and you love your job.”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œSure you do! You’re always telling everyone how much you love it. You always say—”
    â€œKell,” she said, cutting me off. “When I say that, I’m talking in relative terms.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI like my job enough. I like the people I’m working with, and I consider myself lucky to have a gig like that, but I don’t love it.”
    â€œReally?” For some reason, this disappointed me.
    â€œDid you love your job at Bartley?”
    I was quiet.
    â€œSee,” Laney said. “You didn’t love it, either. You were kicking ass and taking names, and you said you wanted to be partner and all that, but you never loved it.”
    â€œThis is so depressing. Do we know anyone who loves their job?”
    We were both quiet now, taking sips of our drinks, struggling to come up with someone, anyone, who adored what they did.
    â€œI know!” I said, pointing at Laney. “You’re passionate about music. You love that, and you’re taking guitar lessons.”
    Laney scoffed. “That’s hardly the same thing.”
    â€œIt is, too. Instead of thinking about the fact that you’d love to play guitar, you’re actually learning how to do it.”
    â€œBut it’s not my job. I mean I wish it was, I’d love to be in a band, but that will never happen.”
    â€œOne step at a time, right? Maybe you will be someday. Maybe Gear will ask you to join them.”
    â€œNever. That’s the problem with the guys I date. They invite me backstage and to the studio, but only as arm candy.”
    â€œGear seemed nice.”
    â€œHe is. He’s nicer than the rest, but…” Her voice died away.
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œHe’s got his band and his buddies. He really doesn’t need me for much except—sex, I guess.”
    â€œHey, at least you have someone.” I thought of the loadof Ben’s belongings—the grubby flannel pajamas he loved, his financial books and the sunglasses he’d spent $200 on—that I’d stuffed in a Hefty bag and thrown down the garbage chute that afternoon.
    â€œWell, you could have someone, you know,” Laney said. “You could date someone just to date, instead of thinking where it might lead. You could have a fling for once, instead of being a serial monogamist.”
    â€œDon’t start, Lane.”
    â€œI’m just speaking the truth.”
    â€œIt’s entirely possible that I might have a fling,” I said.
    Laney guffawed.
    â€œSeriously. I’m a different person than I was a few days ago. I might have a one-night stand tonight.”
    â€œYeah. Right.”
    â€œMaybe this Cole guy. Maybe I’ll sleep with him.”
    I wasn’t sure why I was protesting so much, except that sometimes I found myself woefully embarrassed about the fact that I’d never picked up a guy and slept with him. It wasn’t as if I was living at the turn of the century. Everyone I knew had had a few one-night stands—at least—so why not me? It wasn’t for lack of opportunity—the bar scene was filled with men looking for action. But Laney was right. I had those set plans in my head about getting married and having a kid by a certain age. I was always looking to see if a guy could take me somewhere, if he might be