Page 98 of Player For Hire

“You didn’t need lessons,” I said with a laugh.

Colder stood. “Anyone hungry?”

Everyone nodded and started the lineup for food. Iona put on music in the background and the conversations were easy between the groups of people as we ate.

I was wearing a cute navy polka dot dress, thanks to Iona’s stash and because it was designed by Frankie, it had pockets. I’d slipped my phone into my pocket to show off my character and setting inspirations to people who actually cared about my work.

At this party, that was most everyone, which left my heart feeling fuller by the minute. It was weird to actually talk about my characters out loud. They’d lived solely in my head for so many years. I didn’t even talk about my novel in writing groups. Yet here I was, sharing it out loud and possibly with the world soon.

Jeez, I needed to put that thought away or I was going to lose my very tasty pesto chicken.

My pocket buzzed a few times, but I kept getting pulled away before I could check it. Everyone I would normally talk to was here, except my parents, and I only checked in with them occasionally. We weren’t overly close.

Finally, I escaped to the railing. The sun was going down, and I just needed a moment alone. I slipped my phone out of my pocket to see two missed calls and a text from Webster Publishing.

What were they calling me for?

Was there something wrong with my paperwork?

It was getting closer to the end of my severance package, but I thought the payments would just stop. I’d already done all the 401k things, such as they were.

They’d left a voicemail. It was too loud to hear it, but I could read the transcript.

Naomi, this is Charles. We’d like to discuss you coming back to Webster. We value your technical writing skills, and we may have been too hasty with our plans to innovate. We still need the personal touch to continue to bring the best products possible to our clients. We’d like to bring you back with a significant raise so you can oversee a new department here in Chicago. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.

A new department?

In Chicago?

I sat down hard on one of the chairs near the railing.

“Naomi?” Colder rushed over. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” I looked down at the phone then back up at him. “I really don’t know.”

He crouched in front of me. I handed him the phone so he could read it. He glanced back at me. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” I tucked my hair around my ear. I didn’t know what to say.

“They expect you to just pick back up and go back to Chicago? You don’t even have a place anymore.”

“I actually do. I sublet my apartment since my lease wasn’t up. Sandy—the girl who’s subletting—has been paying month to month. A little more than I was paying. Rent control in Chicago is hard to come by.”

“Oh.” He dragged a chair over in front of me and sat down, our knees touching. “Do you want to go back to Chicago?”

“No. Maybe.” I was so confused. “It would give me a job. I don’t exactly have any prospects?—”

“You have your book.” He took my hands. “You worked hard on it.”

“I know, but it’ll take months. God, maybe even more than that to get it published. Even if they want it.”

“Of course they’ll want it.”

My eyes pricked at the fierceness in his eyes. “There are plenty of amazing books that never get published, Colder.”

He gripped my hands. “I’m sure you’re right, but you haven’t even given yourself a shot yet.”

“But this way I could. I’d have a job until I got published.”