fashion like me. “I’m Dash. I’m a photographer too. We’ll probably be paired up for awhile while you get your bearings. Not that you look like someone who doesn’t have bearings. I’m sounding like an idiot, so I’ll shut up. Love your work, by the way. I saw some of your portfolio.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to working here.”
A woman leaned over Dash and picked up the other half of his muffin. “You’re the one who took the banana nut one.”
Dash lifted his brow at her. “Didn’t see your name on it.”
She lifted it and squinted at the muffin. Her lashes were extra long, fake, possibly, and if not, then someone had been blessed by the eyelash fairy. The woman pursed her lips. “You must have eaten the half with my name on it.” She held out a long, slim hand with silvery, pink fingernails. “I’m Jolene. I’m a journalist.”
Dash lifted his brow again. “Or so you say.”
Jolene draped her arm around Dash’s shoulder. “Oh, Dashwood, if it makes you feel better to insult my writing skills so you can feel better about your own talents then go right ahead.” She smiled at me. “We are actually best friends. Call me Jo, by the way.”
Her mention of being best friends sent an ugly pang of homesickness through me. Loneliness had draped its cold hand around me almost the second I’d landed in New York. I’d left behind all my friends and most especially my best friend. One short afternoon with Dray had sparked every old feeling and every emotion.
“So, you’re from Los Angeles?” Dash’s question had gone right past me at first. They both stared over at me for a response.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I’m afraid I’m still feeling a little out of it because of the time zone switch.”
Jolene plucked up the tiniest crumb from the top of the muffin and pushed it past her heavy layer of red lipstick. The sharp angles and bones of her shoulders and cheekbones made it clear that that half muffin would be the only treat she would allow herself for the day. And the way she picked at it made it clear that most of it would be thrown out. “I spent several of my teen years living in California with my dad. I think you’ll find New York a lot like Los Angeles. Lots of crazy people with no time to stop and smell the proverbial roses. But our buildings are taller and closer together, and there are more people on the sidewalks and less people in cars. Oh, and there will be a considerable lack of palm trees.”
Mr. Evans lifted up a hand. “All right, listen up. First of all, we have a new person on staff, and I know you guys will make her feel welcome. This is Cassie.” He motioned for me to stand. Suddenly, I felt like I was the new kid in class, an experience I’d suffered through a lot during my childhood. I stood and waved quickly and then plunked back down just as I had done in third grade and fifth grade and a few more grades that I could no longer remember.
Jolene seemed to be reading my thoughts. She raised her hand. “Ooh, ooh, Mr. Evans can I show the new girl where the restrooms and library are?”
There was a small round of laughter, but Mr. Evans just shook his head. “Your new assignments have been sent to your email.” Instantly everyone pulled out their phones to check. I hadn’t even considered bringing a phone to a meeting, so I was out of luck.
Dash lifted his phone toward me. “It looks like we’re going to an art show.”
Jolene’s thin shoulders drooped as she rubbed her thumb across the screen of her phone. “Me too, darn it.”
“If you have any problem with your assignment,” Mr. Evans called over the din of voices, “you can drop me a note in my ‘I don’t give a crap about your complaint’ box, and we’ll talk about it as you’re packing up your cubicle.” He found his joke quite humorous, but from the bland expressions around the table, it was obvious that the same joke came at the end of every meeting.
***
When you’re in the
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to working here.”
A woman leaned over Dash and picked up the other half of his muffin. “You’re the one who took the banana nut one.”
Dash lifted his brow at her. “Didn’t see your name on it.”
She lifted it and squinted at the muffin. Her lashes were extra long, fake, possibly, and if not, then someone had been blessed by the eyelash fairy. The woman pursed her lips. “You must have eaten the half with my name on it.” She held out a long, slim hand with silvery, pink fingernails. “I’m Jolene. I’m a journalist.”
Dash lifted his brow again. “Or so you say.”
Jolene draped her arm around Dash’s shoulder. “Oh, Dashwood, if it makes you feel better to insult my writing skills so you can feel better about your own talents then go right ahead.” She smiled at me. “We are actually best friends. Call me Jo, by the way.”
Her mention of being best friends sent an ugly pang of homesickness through me. Loneliness had draped its cold hand around me almost the second I’d landed in New York. I’d left behind all my friends and most especially my best friend. One short afternoon with Dray had sparked every old feeling and every emotion.
“So, you’re from Los Angeles?” Dash’s question had gone right past me at first. They both stared over at me for a response.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I’m afraid I’m still feeling a little out of it because of the time zone switch.”
Jolene plucked up the tiniest crumb from the top of the muffin and pushed it past her heavy layer of red lipstick. The sharp angles and bones of her shoulders and cheekbones made it clear that that half muffin would be the only treat she would allow herself for the day. And the way she picked at it made it clear that most of it would be thrown out. “I spent several of my teen years living in California with my dad. I think you’ll find New York a lot like Los Angeles. Lots of crazy people with no time to stop and smell the proverbial roses. But our buildings are taller and closer together, and there are more people on the sidewalks and less people in cars. Oh, and there will be a considerable lack of palm trees.”
Mr. Evans lifted up a hand. “All right, listen up. First of all, we have a new person on staff, and I know you guys will make her feel welcome. This is Cassie.” He motioned for me to stand. Suddenly, I felt like I was the new kid in class, an experience I’d suffered through a lot during my childhood. I stood and waved quickly and then plunked back down just as I had done in third grade and fifth grade and a few more grades that I could no longer remember.
Jolene seemed to be reading my thoughts. She raised her hand. “Ooh, ooh, Mr. Evans can I show the new girl where the restrooms and library are?”
There was a small round of laughter, but Mr. Evans just shook his head. “Your new assignments have been sent to your email.” Instantly everyone pulled out their phones to check. I hadn’t even considered bringing a phone to a meeting, so I was out of luck.
Dash lifted his phone toward me. “It looks like we’re going to an art show.”
Jolene’s thin shoulders drooped as she rubbed her thumb across the screen of her phone. “Me too, darn it.”
“If you have any problem with your assignment,” Mr. Evans called over the din of voices, “you can drop me a note in my ‘I don’t give a crap about your complaint’ box, and we’ll talk about it as you’re packing up your cubicle.” He found his joke quite humorous, but from the bland expressions around the table, it was obvious that the same joke came at the end of every meeting.
***
When you’re in the
Similar Books
