It's a Waverly Life (14 page)

The next morning I overslept. When I saw the clock on my nightstand, I freaked.

OH MY GOD.

I had less than thirty minutes to make it to the
Sun
for my meeting with Eloise Zimmerman, which I was already looking forward to about as much as my next appointment with my obgyn. I leaped out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, then ran back to my bedroom and opened my closet door. I threw on a dark blue dress, grabbed a strand of pearls and matching earrings from my jewelry box, and rummaged around for a pair of black flats.
Why do I have so many pairs of shoes I never wear?
I thought.

I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. Twenty-two minutes to go.

I’m so dead.

I tossed my makeup bag in my purse and raced out the door. I was lucky to find a cab on the corner. As I held up my arms to hail it, my phone flew out of my purse. When I bent down to pick it up, I noticed the large black button on the top of my right shoe was missing. In its place was a big shiny nub that looked like a screw.

Lovely.

I jumped in the cab.

“I’m headed downtown, but I need to make a quick stop at Walgreens, please. And I’m in a huge hurry.”

The driver hit the gas, then the brakes three blocks down Fillmore at Walgreens. I sprinted inside while he waited for me with the meter running. Ninety seconds later, I was back in the cab with a roll of electrical tape.

On our way downtown, I performed a bit of creative surgery on my shoe. When I was done, I held my foot away from me to evaluate my work.
Not bad
. I pulled out my makeup kit and applied some lipstick and blusher, a high-risk maneuver without a mirror. Just when I thought I was finally done, I noticed that my dress was covered in lint.

Oh no.

I’m screwed.

Then I had an idea.

I opened my purse and pulled out the electrical tape. I ripped off a few large pieces and made circles with the sticky side facing out. Then I set to work de-linting. My dad, the MacGyver of our family, would be so proud.

I arrived at the
Sun
office at 9:58. In the elevator, I inspected my dress and shoes. As long as no one looked
too
closely, I could pass for someone who had been awake for more than half an hour.

When the elevator doors opened, I noticed how much quieter the administrative floor was than the editorial one, with fewer people and a lot less paper.

And, I suspected, a lot more anxiety.

I walked on eggshells down the long hallway to the far corner office in the back. Many of the cubes in the center of the room were empty. When I got to the corner office with
Eloise Zimmerman
on the door, I stopped and poked my head in. She was sitting at her desk, her back to the door, the phone to one ear. Her hair was indeed high. And big. And stiff.

“I don’t
care
what he told you, he’s a liar, and he’s overcharging us,” she hissed into the phone loud enough for me to overhear. “So fire him today, or I will.”

Yikes. Who is she firing?

I tried to look busy by checking my messages on my phone, then getting myself some water and touring the floor, stopping by every few minutes to see if she was done. At ten fifteen I finally got up the nerve to tap on the door. She was still on the phone, clearly unhappy.

“Ms. Zimmerman?” I whispered and pointed to the air behind me. “Just wanted to let you know I’m outside?”
Why did I pose that as a question?

I expected her to wave me away like a mosquito, but she smiled and motioned for me to sit down in the chair across from her desk. I raised my eyebrows, then sat down and folded my hands in my lap.
This should be interesting
.

“Okay, I need to go now, I have a meeting,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

I stared at my hands.

“Okay, okay, sounds good. I love you too. Bye.”

I looked up.
I love you too?

She hung up, then swiveled around in her chair to face me. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

“That was my husband. He hired a contractor to paint our house, and the man is
completely
incompetent. But Joe, my husband, is such a pushover that he just can’t let him go, even though we’re getting robbed blind.”

I tried not to laugh. There I was, thinking she was bringing the house down, when all she was doing was painting it.

She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes. “So…you’re Waverly Bryson.” She wore a dark blue pantsuit and a long, fat-linked gold necklace.

I nodded, trying not to look too nervous.

“And you were on
The Today Show
yesterday.” She removed her glasses and let them dangle around her neck on a thin chain, also gold.

“Yes ma’am. I got back last night,”

“How did it go?”

I shifted in my seat. “I think it went pretty well. It was a little awkward in the beginning, but it ended up fine. The producers and correspondent seemed happy with it.”

She slowly moved her fingers over the gold links. I wondered if that necklace cost more than my monthly rent.

“I missed it, but I heard it was quite good.”

I smiled. “You did?”

She sifted through a stack of papers on her desk. “We got a few calls from advertisers who really liked that you speak to the single community. That’s a coveted demographic for advertising because no kids means more disposable income.”

I didn’t say anything because I had absolutely no idea what to say.

She put her glasses back on. “I want to bump you up to two columns a week, starting immediately. Can you handle that?”

“Twice a week? Yes, I think I can do that.”

“Good. This paper is a sinking ship, so getting our advertising dollars up is top priority right now. You’d be amazed at how much content we’ve been paying for that no one actually
reads
.”

I was surprised at her candor. I still had no idea what to say.

“Okay then, keep up the good work. We need it right now.” She swiveled her chair away from me to face her computer. I took that to mean the meeting was over.

I stood up and slowly backed my way toward the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Zimmerman.”

She nodded, not looking up from her computer screen.

I smiled to myself as I reached the doorway and turned to face the ninth floor. I hadn’t been expecting that at all. She actually liked my work! That could mean a bright future for Honey on Your Mind…and for me.

I was two steps out the door when she spoke again. “Oh, and Waverly, my dear.”

I returned and poked my head back inside. “Yes, Mrs. Zimmerman?”

“I think you’ve got something hanging off the back of your dress. It looks like
electrical tape
?”

Mortified, I sprinted to the nearest restroom to fix my dress.
Ugh
. Just when I thought I’d had it all together for ONE shining moment, a Waverly one spoke up to remind me I still had a long way to go. I checked for additional unwanted accessories clinging to my body, then dropped by Ivy’s desk to say hi.

“Waverly! How are you? It’s been ages.” She cleared off a pile of newspapers from a chair and motioned for me to sit down.

“I know, it’s been forever. How was your trip?”

“Honestly, I don’t even want to go there. Kansas is bonkers, and I’ll leave it at that. You look super cute, by the way. Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, deciding to keep my latest Waverly moment to myself. “That bad, eh? It’s not every day you hear someone use the word
bonkers
, especially about a whole state.”

“Let’s just say that in small-town Kansas, or at least in my family, it is simply not acceptable for a woman in her late twenties to be unmarried.”

“They’re on your case to get married
already
?”

“You have no idea.” She pushed a strand of curly red hair behind her ear. “Both my sisters are under twenty-five and already married, with
babies
, so because I’m twenty-eight and don’t have a ring on my finger, they’ve all come to the conclusion that I must be a lesbian. Especially since I live in San Francisco.”

I laughed. “No way.”

“My sisters, not so much. But my parents? Totally. Plus my mom is convinced that even if I
am
straight, once I turn thirty, I’ll be too old for any eligible man to ever want me. She’s even talked to her pastor about it.”

“Too old at
thirty
?”

She nodded. “According to unofficial Kansas state law, I have less than two years to get Casey to marry me, or I will officially become an old maid. So I guess the countdown is on.”

“Wow, I can see why you left Kansas.”

“I’m never moving back there. Add in my tattoos and belly ring to my advanced age, and I might as well be from Mars.”

“Aren’t women supposed to be from Venus?”

She waved a hand in front of her. “Mars, Venus, Jupiter, whatever. So hey, nice job on
The Today Show
.”

“You saw it?”

“It was very entertaining. I thought you did great, but what was up with that bitch sitting next to you?”

I pointed at her. “Exactly! Thank you!”

“Total bitch.”

“She was faking that Southern accent too,”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe not faking, but definitely embellishing. You know what it made me realize?”

Ivy raised her eyebrows.

“Have you seen my Honey Note that asks
Is it worse to be fake or bitchy
?”

She smiled. “Of course, that’s one of my favorites.”

“Well that woman made me realize that it’s actually possible to be both fake
and
bitchy, because she was one fake bitch.”

She laughed. “I thought your dating stories were really funny. The married twenty-two-year-olds in Kansas might not agree, but I loved them. I didn’t know you were dating so much, though.”

“What?”

“I didn’t realize you went out on so many dates. But it was good. Gave you some street cred.” She punched the air. “Plus it put that big-haired fake bitch in her place.”

I was about to explain how the dating stories I’d told weren’t exactly recent, when the sound of Nick’s voice made us both turn our heads.

“Now come on, ladies, you shouldn’t talk about Eloise Zimmerman like that.”

“Sorry, wrong big-haired fake bitch,” Ivy said as he approached her cube. He was wearing a light blue shirt that said, “Bring Back the Three-Martini Lunch.”

I stood up and smoothed my hands over my dress. “Eloise wasn’t nearly as bad as you two said she’d be. I just met her, and she was actually pretty nice.”

They both narrowed their eyes.

“I’m serious. She even asked me to double the number of columns I write. She said I’m doing a great job.”

“Really?” Ivy said. “I’ve never heard of her saying that to anyone before.”

I smiled. “She said to keep up the good work.”

Nick squinted at me. “I reserve the right to remain suspicious.”

I crossed my arms and squinted back. “Is it really
that
hard to believe my column is good?”

“Hey now, don’t put words in my mouth.” He put his hands up. “You know I think your column is amazing. We’re just saying that Eloise Zimmerman isn’t known for being nice to anyone, that’s all.”

I dropped my arms to my sides. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just a little rattled after what happened on the show yesterday.”

“You mean when you threw your friend under the bus?”

I winced. “You saw that?”

“I saw. That was pretty brutal.”

I put my face in my hands. “I know, I totally panicked. I suck.”

“Ah, she’ll get over it.” He waved a hand dismissively.