Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Cue rich people laugh.
Buzz.
My phone vibrates again and I surreptitiously retrieve it from my purse, using my napkin to conceal it as I angle the screen so I can read the text. It’s from Sophie Smith.
Hey, I know it’s Friday night, but we’re up at the office and could use some backup. No pressure. I’ve asked a few other first-years too.
YES.
I look over at Jasper to see he’s already looking at me, his mouth turned down in a disapproving frown. “Everything okay?”
“It’s work.”
“On a Friday night?” Jasper’s mom, Annette, asks. “Goodness.”
Annette has never worked. She met Jasper’s dad while they were in college and they were struttin’ down the aisle before graduation. I’m not judging her for her way of life. I just wish she wouldn’t judge me for mine.
“There’s a fire we’re trying to put out at the moment,” I explain. “A merger that’s gone south.”
She smiles tightly and raises her eyebrows as a way to suppress her true thoughts on the subject. I wouldn’t think much of her reaction except for the fact that Annette has pulled me aside twice in the last six months to discuss my relationship with Jasper and our future plans together, namely when she can expect me to focus my attention “where it matters”.
The first time went something like this: “I just don’t know how I could have managed to raise Jasper right and go off to a job all day long.” Worse than that one was a snide remark she made right in the middle of a group conversation, so seamlessly it felt like I was the only one to hear her say it. “Oh, Scarlett doesn’t think being a mom is work enough.”
When I brought it to Jasper’s attention later that night, he laughed it off. “So she’s prickly about her life choices compared to yours—big deal. Don’t let it bother you.”
Now, she just can’t help herself. “Aren’t there always going to be fires to put out at a law firm of that size?” she asks her husband with a condescending tone.
I look to Jasper, hoping he heard the comment and witnessed the way she delivered it, but he’s too busy waving down the hired waiter to ask for a refill on his wine. Never mind that the wine is sitting on a side table right there within reach. He could just get up and get it himself, but instead he’s playing into this silly game of Downton Abbey.
All at once, it’s too much.
I jerk my chair back and dart up. “I…have to leave.” I look at Annette and Charlie. “I’m sorry. I know you both went to so much trouble to put together this dinner”—i.e. you paid people a lot of money to cook in your kitchen while you observed and critiqued them from afar—“and I feel bad rushing off, but this is really important.”
Charlie—nice, aloof man that he is—nods. “Of course, Scarlett. Don’t worry about it.”
Annette doesn’t look up, and she doesn’t address me. I know I’ll be paying for this quick exit for weeks, if not months, to come.
Jasper stands and follows me out of the dining room like a heavy black cloud. I know he’s upset with me.
“Two late nights in a row, Scarlett?”
I ignore him and pull up the Uber app.
“My parents really wanted to spend time with us,” he continues.
“I’m sorry, Jasper.”
He sighs and grabs his keys from his pocket. “Let me drive you.”
“I already called an Uber. Stay with your parents. I know they want to see you. It’s so hard finding time to get together.”
“Are you sure?”
Positive.
I lie and tell him the Uber’s already there just so I can go outside. It’s colder than I expected, but I don’t mind the October chill. The fresh air feels like it’s cleansing me of the last hour and a half. I stand on the curb, looking down the road for a black Nissan SUV.
Voices carry from the catering team standing in Annette and Charlie’s driveway. They’re just shooting the shit while they smoke and take a break. One of them catches my eye and nods, and I nod back. Given the choice between going back into the sprawling two-story red brick mansion to continue dinner with Annette or bumming a smoke from those guys, I’d pick the latter. And I don’t even smoke.
It’s a twenty-minute ride from Jasper’s parents’ house to the Elwood Hoyt offices. The Uber driver talks on the phone the whole time, and I don’t mind one bit. Twenty minutes of sitting in the back seat, not saying a word? It’s like a mini spa trip. And he offers me free water and a cord to charge my iPhone! Thank you, Mr. Uber Man. You will be getting a good tip from me.
I’m buzzing when I hurry through the ground-floor foyer, flashing my ID at security since I don’t have my badge on me. I assess my clothes when I’m in the elevator. I didn’t go home to change, and I’m slightly regretting it. The long white slim-fitting dress I wore to dinner is nice, though not exactly work attire. The halter neck has wide straps that twist around and tie beneath my hair, paired with a sculpted bodice. There’s no cleavage, thank god, but it’s still more skin than I’d prefer to show in the office. Good thing HR’s not making the rounds at 8:00 p.m. on a Friday night…