Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) (2 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

There’s a weird, almost unbearable, tension
in the office. Conversations are hushed and end quickly if you stray too close
to a cubicle. Everyone is doing their best to look busy and hopefully avoid the
first round of lay-offs we all know are coming. The company’s troubles are the
worst kept secret in the publishing industry. I suspect not a lot of work is
actually getting done. More like people polishing their resumes on the sly and
making plans for a future that doesn’t include Snow Publishing.

I spend most of my first morning back
catching up on the tasks piled on my desk in my absence. Amy has been in
several closed-door meetings so there hasn’t been an opportunity to speak with
her about her plans for starting a new company. I haven’t decided if I’ll
accept her offer, but an email from Madelyn asking if I could assist in
scheduling press appearances for Noah Drake certainly has me leaning in that
direction.

I’m finishing up an e-book conversion when
my cell phone buzzes on top of the desk. It’s a text from Sam.

How’s the first day back?

I find a picture of the meme with the golden
retriever wearing glasses and sitting before a computer and cluttered desk. The
caption reads:
I have no idea what I’m doing.
I attach it to my reply—
this
says it all
—and hit send.

Before I can read his answer, there’s a soft
knock on the door. Amy pokes her head in.

“Got a minute?”

I follow her down the hall to her own office.
Every co-worker we pass avoids eye contact.

“Everyone’s wondering what the hell is going
on,” Amy says softly, shutting the door behind us.

“What
is
going on?” I ask, taking the
seat across from her desk.

“Well, the lay-offs are happening. Each
department has to submit a list of five names by the end of the week.”

“I hate to ask, but . . . will I be on your
list?”

I hold my breath until she answers.

“That depends. Have you thought about my
offer? I’ll be leaving by the end of the month.”

Living off a nice severance package while
helping Amy get the new business off the ground doesn’t sound like a bad idea,
but it’s the uncertainty of what comes after that gives me pause. Amy can see
the conflict on my face.

“How about this,” she says. “Let’s do lunch
tomorrow and I can outline my plan. I’ll give you a few days to think about it,
and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

I nod and let out a deep breath. “That
sounds perfect. “

*

“So, are you going to work with Amy at her
new company or what?”

Nat’s question takes me by surprise and I
struggle to swallow my iced tea before answering. “How do you—?”

“Really, Kate? You weren’t in Alaska
that
long. I knew Amy was leaving before Amy knew she was leaving. So? Are you?”

I cast a furtive glance around the
restaurant. It’s a small sandwich shop two blocks from our offices. We’re
taking a late lunch so it’s not particularly crowded, but I’m still worried
someone from Snow may overhear our conversation.

“I haven’t decided yet. We’re going to talk
about specifics tomorrow.”

She shudders and pulls a face like she
tasted something sour. “The only reason working with Amy is tolerable is
because the company is so big; I don’t have to see her that much. I couldn’t
imagine working with her in a small start-up. Ugh.”

“Amy’s not that bad, Nat. And what do you
think you’ll do?” I know Nat doesn’t know Amy like I do, but with all she’s
done for me lately, it feels wrong to listen to Nat bash her.

Nat uses her fork to stab at a pickle on her
plate. She shrugs. “It depends on whether or not I make it through the first
round of lay-offs. And, yes, I know about the lay-offs, too.”

“Of course you do. Anyway, I guess I don’t
have much of a choice but to go with Amy when she leaves. If I turn her down,
and I’m laid off . . . that money won’t last forever. I’ll have to look for a
job eventually.”

“Well, there’s also your book.”

I snort. “An outline and a couple of
chapters.”

“Speaking of, have you read Gabriel’s new
book yet?”

Just hearing his name stirs something inside
of me. I clear my throat. “How would I have done that?”

Nat rolls her eyes. “You were sleeping with
him, he paid for your brother’s cancer treatment, and the book just happens to
be about you. Forgive me for thinking he’d send you an advance copy.”

I grimace. “I don’t think he’ll be sending
me anything any time soon.”

The waitress sets the check on the table
between us. By the time I retrieve my debit card from my wallet, Nat has
already placed hers into the billfold.

“Put it away, Kate. It’s your first day
back. My treat.”

“You know that’s not actually an occasion,
right?” I ask, even though I’m grateful. “But thanks, Nat.”

She dismisses me with a wave of her hand,
the silver bracelets on her wrist chiming as they fall. “Have you heard from
the other one?”

“His name is Sam, and you know that,” I say,
tossing a balled up napkin across the table. “Yes. We texted this morning. No
big deal. We’re just keeping in touch like we said we would.”

I’m not even sure Nat’s been listening.
She’s got her lips twisted to the side like she does when she’s plotting.
Finally, she says, “You know what you need? You—”

I hold up a finger. “Don’t tell me. I should
sleep with a third guy?”

She narrows her brown eyes. “You’re not as
funny as you think you are. As I was saying, you need to spend some time
focusing on Kate. You were so excited when you told me about your book. More
excited than I’ve seen you about anything in a long time. If it makes you
happy, go for it. Your slam piece problem will work itself out.”

“You sound like Matt. Minus the slam piece
part, which . . . don’t say that again. But that’s certainly not the type of
advice I was expecting to hear from you.”  

“Don’t look so surprised, Kate,” she says,
taking the receipt and pen from the waitress. “I can give advice that doesn’t
involve getting laid.” She signs her name, then leans forward, resting her arms
on the table. “I mean it. Keep working on it, Kate. It doesn’t sound like Gabriel
or Sam is going anywhere.”

Nat’s words ring through my head for the
rest of the day. Maybe it
is
time I took some time for myself. I’ve been
chasing my own tail for so long I’ve never stopped to ask what it is I want to
be doing, where I want to be. I’m not even sure how to answer something like
that.

Five o’clock comes around quickly and I
start shutting down my computer. It’s been depressingly easy to slip right back
into the swing of things at work.

I’m just slipping on my jacket when I hear
someone at my door. Madelyn is standing there in one of her designer suits, an
eyebrow raised.

“Good to have you back,” she says coolly.
“How was your trip?”

I don’t know what to say to her. There’s
nothing in the world that would make me want to share my family’s struggles with
this woman.

“It was OK,” I say finally. “You know.
Family stuff.”

“Of course,” she says, already
disinterested. “But remember, I still need those e-book conversions finished as
soon as possible. If you have to stay late this week make sure you know the
alarm codes.”

Before I can protest she’s turning away,
already ignoring me. I want to curse her out, but instead take a deep breath
and release it very slowly.

As I’m walking past the cubicle farm that
makes up the rest of the office, Nat catches up with me.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” she
asks. “Didn’t you get the email about Karen’s birthday drinks tonight?”

Oh, shit.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “I did see that. Sorry,
I’m still a little beat from all the travel. Do you think Karen would mind if I
sat this one out?”

“Um,
yes
,” Nat says. “C’mon, come out
for a few drinks. Maybe it’ll get that look off your face.”

I can’t imagine enjoying myself. But it’ll
get Nat off my back. And maybe I
could
use some time out with the girls.
Away from men, away from Madelyn, away from the tiny little room I am supposed
to think of as home.

So I let Nat drag me into the elevator with
the rest of the girls. Karen, a few years older and with a round, laughing
face, is already giggling at something someone has said. We pack into a couple
of cabs and head across town to a dive bar Nat’s recommended. As we slowly push
our way through the peak-hour traffic, I put up a Facebook update:
Never
thought I’d miss the Alaskan cold.

And it’s true—I do.

We get there and there’s already a line—this
place is popular. It’s called Bar X; I hope that isn’t a sign. We crowd into
line with everyone else, hipsters and young couples and tech workers all
looking for a good time.

“Are you sure this is just going to be a few
drinks?” I ask Nat. She laughs.

“Well, maybe a few and a couple and one or
two on top of that,” she says. “I mean, who cares about making it in to work at
nine anymore?”

The bouncer catches sight of us and waves us
in. We get some filthy looks from everyone else but Nat just points to Karen.

“It’s her birthday!” she yells, like that
gives us a license to do whatever we want.

We push inside and it’s
packed.
A
buzz of music swirls around the crush of bodies. A trio of harried-looking
bartenders scurry desperately back and forth behind the darkened bar.

“Find a table!” Nat shouts to us above the
noise. “I’ll go get some drinks!”

Somehow we manage to grab a table right as
the previous occupants are leaving. We swoop in and I sit down next to Karen. I
tap her on the shoulder.

“Hey, happy birthday!” I yell in her ear.

 “Thanks!” She opens her mouth like she’s
going to say something else but then stops. She gives me what appears to be an
apologetic smile and then leans toward me, her mouth near my ear this time.

“Is it true about you and Gabriel Call?”

She didn’t ask that loudly and the music is
blaring, but I realize that everyone at the table is looking at me, waiting for
my response. I want to laugh at how identical their expressions are. I look
slowly from face to face. It’s tempting to tell them to mind their own damn
business. But then I think,
if I was in their position and one of them had
gone home with Gabriel Call, the guy whose books I’ve queued up to buy . . .
hell yeah, I’d want to know too.

“Let me tell you,” I say, and they all lean
in closer, like a pack of dogs at feeding time.

“Gabriel Call’s dick is as thick as the last
Harry Potter book.” Their faces break into scandalized grins. I can’t help it,
I lose my shit. And it feels so good, laughing and letting it all go, even as
Nat arrives back at the table with a bottle of champagne in each hand and a
puzzled look on her face.

“OK, OK,” I say, equally relieved and
embarrassed. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

I
maneuver
my way through the crowd to the bathroom. On the way I bump
into a tall guy. He turns, and his initial annoyance gives way to a friendly
smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Buy you a drink?”

I look him up and down, his gym-toned body,
his easy smile, his casual confidence. He’s handsome and could probably have
his pick of women. He looks like a nice guy.

“No, I don’t think so,” I say, and keep
going.

When I finally get home, I congratulate
myself on not having too much to drink–just a few glasses of wine with Karen,
and none of the tequila shots that Nat insisted everyone partake in. Just as
well; half an hour before I left I found Karen sobbing in the bathroom about
how here she was, another year older, and she still hadn’t found someone to
really
be in love with—not even the boy she’d dated for three years. I tried to
comfort her the best I could, but what valuable advice on the topic did I
really have to give?

Now, I sit on my little window ledge,
resting my head against the cool glass. The rain is starting to patter and I
watch the little beads sliding down the glass in long streaks. I’ve got a chill
out playlist playing on Spotify, turned down low so I don’t wake my housemates.

I don’t know what song’s on right now, but
it’s slow and mournful and suits my mood completely. I let out a huge sigh. All
the laughter from earlier has faded. I’m all alone, and maybe I always will be.

There’s a cold feeling in my chest. Maybe I
should have taken that handsome guy up on his offer of a drink. Even if he
wasn’t my soul mate, or we didn’t wind up having some sort of passionate
connection, wouldn’t being with someone be preferable to feeling this alone?

I look out over the city, what little of it
I can see that isn’t shrouded in the haze of rain that seems to be the only
weather we get right now. I can see lights in windows, little pockets of yellow
warmth.

People are in there
, I think.
People with their lovers, their partners, their
husbands and their wives. And here’s me, all alone, watching them and not
knowing what the hell to do.

I think of Sam, back in Alaska, and for a
moment I want to call him and tell him I’m coming home, I’m coming home to him
and this time, I won’t leave.

And then what? I’ll just break his heart
again when I miss the city? When I miss my life here? When I miss my chance at
making my dreams come true?

When I miss Gabriel?

God, maybe I should have stayed and just
gotten drunk with Nat instead of throwing myself this pathetic pity party. It’s
even making
me
bored with myself.

I heave myself up and turn off Spotify.
That’s enough of that; any more of this music and I’m going to join a convent.
For a moment I think about taking my ass to bed but then I figure, if the
computer’s still on, I might as well do some writing and make it a productive
night.

When I finally open up where I’m up to on my
Samantha Stone novel, though, doubt starts to overwhelm me.

Do I really have what it takes? Am I just
being stupid? A dreamer? Maybe I should just let this all go and bury my head
in the 9-5.

And for a moment it really takes hold of me,
the fear of failure—I’m ready to turn my computer off and go straight to bed
and never write another word again.

Then I remember the look in everyone’s eyes
around the table, the envy and the curiosity and the fascination and I think,
hey,
if Gabriel can do it, surely I can do something
like
it. After all, you
don’t get fucked sideways by the top-selling romance novelist in the country
without learning a few things. Right??

Smothering a snort of laughter, I get to
work.

OK, Samantha Stone
, I think,
who are you? Well, let’s start with being the complete
opposite of me and go from there.