Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I’ve also tried to listen to my head, but my heart knows what it wants.
I know how to tell them, and I plan to later tonight before we go home to San Francisco. For now, I enjoy the show, feeling both peace and excitement that I’m finally ready to say I know too.
When the show ends with Birdie Michaels thanking everyone for attending, I clap and cheer with the crowd, and we make our way out of the ballroom. I didn’t come here to see Birdie. This wasn’t meant to be a networking trip, but when we’re milling about in the lobby, I catch her striding my way. There’s determined focus in her keen eyes, which are lasered in on me.
My pulse skitters. She’s become something of an idol to me in these last few months of working together.
She looks exactly like her photos, rocking a flowy maroon dress, with long hair curled in lush waves. She’s in her late thirties, and she radiates warmth and energy, but efficiency, too, as she comes right up to me. “Ivy Samuels? I thought that might be you.”
“It is me. Nice to meet you,” I say.
“I was thrilled when I saw you on the guest list. Any chance I can steal you for a quick drink?”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting that. Stefan gestures gracefully to the nearby hotel bar as if saying feel free. “We’ve got some things to take care of anyway,” he says, paving the way.
A few minutes later, I’m swirling a metal straw in a frosted iced tea glass at the hotel bar as Birdie says, “We’re expanding Your Runway and producing more content on recycled fashion, vintage clothing, and secondhand trends. It’s some of the most popular content with our young readers, and frankly, the biggest growth area right now in fashion media. We want to run with it and stake a claim. I’d love to have you move to Los Angeles and take a lead on it.”
Wait. What? All the air whooshes out of my lungs. That isn’t what I came to Los Angeles for.
“And here’s what I’m prepared to pay you.” She tells me, and it’s double what I make on all my jobs together.
I leave the bar a little later feeling woozy even though I didn’t touch a drop of liquor. Nearly speechless with shock, I return to the room and unlock the door in a daze. The guys are waiting for me, curious and expectant.
“She just made me an offer,” I say, still flabbergasted, “to move to LA.”
53
TABLES TURNED
Stefan
What. The. Fuck.
The next morning, after we return to San Francisco, I pace the weight room at the gym on Fillmore Street. “We can’t let her go,” I say, dragging my hand through my hair.
“We can’t tell her what to do, either,” Hayes says as he hoists a barbell in a dead lift.
I’ve never seen him so calm. So laid-back.
“How can you take it like this?” I’m so agitated I can’t focus. I can’t exercise. I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to skate tonight.
I couldn’t sleep after she told us about the offer. I said all the right things. You should consider it. It’s a great opportunity. You’d be amazing at it. Now I’m both exhausted and wound the fuck up.
What kind of shitty boyfriend would I be not to support her? But fucking hell. I’m going to tear my eyes out. “What can we do?”
“To stop her?” Hayes asks evenly as he pulls the bar up to his chest again. A Nirvana tune blasts through the gym. We’re the only ones in the free weights section at the moment.
“Yes!”
“You can’t, man. That’s not how this works.”
I park my hands on my hips. “How do you know?” I’ll pick a fight over anything evidently.
Setting the weight down, Hayes stares at me like he’s the cool, in control older brother. “Because I’ve been here before. I’ve been traded.”
“She’s not being traded,” I bite out. “She has a choice.”
“And I did too. I could have turned down an offer and, oh, gee, not had a career.” He frowns. “This is huge for her, man. Don’t you get it? This is something she has to think about. By herself. Without us.”
I burn inside. No, I seethe. I’m not mad at Ivy though. I’m mad at Birdie. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at the world. “You know she doesn’t have to work. We could support her,” I say, grasping at straws.
Hayes laughs in my face and rolls his eyes then turns dead serious. “Dude, listen to yourself. She’s an independent woman.”
“But we could.” I’m desperate to keep her nearby. I can’t stand the thought of her going to Los Angeles.
Hayes stabs his sternum. “You think I don’t want to keep her? You think I want to watch her move to another fucking city?”