So Much for My Happy Ending (25 page)

He had already made it up to me one hundred and eighty thousand times. I lifted my hands and let them run through his hair. Maybe we could have it all. Tad's business was obviously living up to its full potential, and if I could pursue a career as a curator…“Everything could be perfect,” I whispered aloud.

Tad straightened up and gazed into my eyes. “April, it already is.”

 

The next morning I went into work with a letter of resignation in my hand. Tad had been too amped to sleep so he had typed it up for me at three in the morning. He spent the rest of the night writing up new business objectives for SMB and waxing his car. When I woke up at six and found him sorting through old paint samples to help him determine what new color we should paint the bookshelves (that didn't need painting) I began to worry. But his restlessness was understandable. He was on the road to major success. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a member of the Silicon Valley Multimillionaire Club. I had a hard time mentally casting myself in the role of socialite, but Tad helped fill out the fantasy: exotic vacations, beautiful houses furnished by Crate and Barrel and Pottery Barn (I'm aware that there are more prestigious brands but neither Tad nor I is familiar with them), a pool in the backyard and a fountain in the front. It would be the perfect palace for Cinderella and her prince to take up residence. Of course, these were still fantasies, but five to ten years down the road it could be our reality.

That morning while setting the floor, Dorita talked incessantly about all the details of her upcoming ten-day trip back to her boyfriend's hometown in Argentina. She was so excited about the adventure she didn't notice that my hands were shaking so much I could barely tie a scarf around a mannequin's neck. What I was about to do was so impulsive. I didn't really do impulsive—that was Tad's area. Of course, I did rush into marriage after only three plus months of dating, but once again the credit for that one really belonged to Tad.

Maybe I did need to slow down and think about this. I waited until the store opened before calling Caleb in Cosmetics.

“Well?” he asked as soon as he determined it was me. “Will we be needing reservations at the Bubble Lounge in the near future?”

“It seems I have access to a part-time office job and Tad says the money's there.” I kept my voice hushed in case Dawson's version of the Secret Service had the register area bugged.

“Tad says the money's there,” Caleb repeated slowly. I knew what he was thinking.

“You think I should wait?” I asked reluctantly. “Maybe I'll just see what the next paycheck looks like.”

“No, do it now,” Caleb said with new definitiveness. “I know you. Given forty-eight hours you'll have come up with forty-eight reasons why you shouldn't pursue your dreams. Go to Liz's office today and call it quits.”

“And if the money isn't as good as Tad thinks it is?” I didn't want to go down that road, but this decision required some thought.

“You'll still be able to afford graduate school. You'll just have to start shopping at Payless.”

“Bite your tongue!”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the starving children in Africa. Besides, if they're good enough for Star Jones they're good enough for you. Talk to Liz.”

I felt my heart pound against my chest just at thinking about the conversation. “If this doesn't work, can I blame you?”

“Absolutely. I'll even blow up a picture of myself so you can use it for dart practice. Now, go get yourself unemployed.”

I smiled and clutched the phone cord in my sweaty hand. “I really am doing this, aren't I?”

“At this very moment you're really
not
doing it, which is why I'm hanging up the phone. Call me when it's over.”

I continued to keep the receiver pressed to my ear long after I heard the click. Putting it down meant that I had to move to the next step in my game plan.

“Are you all right?” I turned to see Dorita's doleful brown eyes looking up into mine with concern. “You look like you just survived a major earthquake.”

I shook my head. “No, but I think I'm about to cause one.”

 

I told Blakely first. The buyers she shared her office with were in, so she came down to my office in the interest of privacy. She stood next to my desk, her arms crossed confidently in front of her. “So I take it you've made your decision.”

I cleared my throat and met her gaze. “Blakely, I want to thank you for being so honest with me. I know it was a risk. But you really opened my eyes to what it takes to make it in this company and helped me determine what my future is with Dawson's.”

Blakely smiled. “So tell me about this Dawson's future of yours.”

“I don't have one.”

Blakely's smile froze in place.

“I can't be who they want me to be and so I've decided that it's time to move on.” I had to struggle not to swoon as I said the words. “I'm turning in my two-week notice today. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Blakely's smile had now turned into a thin straight line. I waited for her to throw out fifty reasons why what I was doing was idiotic.

She uncrossed her arms and smoothed the crinkles out of her blazer. “You're wasting my time.”

And with that she strode out the door. I stood alone in my office, unsure of how I felt about that little exchange. Obviously I wasn't an employee worth fighting for. I ran my hand over the customer holds that Blakely had been so emotional about several months back. I had been single then, or at least unmarried. So much had changed in such a short time.

Gigi burst through the door, abruptly putting an end to my stroll down memory lane.

“Hi, April, what's up?”

“Hmm?” “What's up” isn't really an invitation to drop a major bomb.

“You okay? You seem, like…I don't know…nervous.” Gigi removed her jacket and carefully hung it on a spare hanger.

“Well, I came to a major realization.” I lifted my chin up and offered her a quivering smile. “Actually, it concerns you.”

Gigi dropped the hanger. She looked down at her coat that was now splayed across her feet as if she was unsure of where it came from. “Um, like, what did you realize about me that would make you upset?”

I let out a shaky laugh. “No, that's not what I meant. The only realization I've come to about you is that you're a better manager than I am, which is one of the reasons I met with Blakely earlier.”

Gigi exhaled audibly and quickly retrieved her jacket. “Okay, sorry…I just thought I had done something wrong by mistake. You know I try to give one-hundred-and-ten percent and all but even I have my ‘oops' moments and…Wait, you decided I was a better manager so you went to see Blakely? I don't get it.” She wrinkled her perfect brow and perched herself on top of her desk.

“Gigi, when you found those prenatal vitamins, what did you conclude?”

Gigi looked understandably thrown by the change in topic. “What did I…um—”

“What did you think, about why I had them?” I clarified.

“I know what
conclude
means.” Gigi's eyes narrowed. “I
concluded
that you were preggers.”

I looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “You know…I'm not. Not anymore.”

Gigi crossed and uncrossed her legs at the ankles. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out. I am, like, so totally sorry about that. I mean, it is just so totally unfair…”

“Did you tell Blakely?”

Gigi's eyes widened in surprise. “No!”

“No what? No you didn't tell her I was pregnant, or no you didn't tell her I miscarried.”

“None of it. Like, Blakely is the last person I'd tell!” Gigi tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “You know, people always assume that I can't keep a secret just because I'm, like, so totally chatty, but it's completely untrue. If a secret's important enough I'll totally take it to the grave.”

“I saw you talking to Blakely right after you found the vitamins.”

“Is that what you thought we were talking about? You so should have asked me! I just figured that with you being preggers I needed to work extra hard to get you into the assistant-buying chair before you started to, like, you know, show.” She whispered the word
show
as if she was articulating the name of a particularly loathsome venereal disease.

I didn't say anything. My eyes traveled to her desk. She had decorated the bulletin board in front of it with pictures of her and her friends, along with pictures from various magazine layouts, and a few ticket stubs from a Christina Aguilera concert. A small mirror was propped up next to a pink unicorn Beanie Baby whose legs were sprawled out in a manner that suggested he had just been dropped from a ten-story building. There was nothing personal on my desk. I had never bothered to make it my own.

“I'm going to recommend to Liz that you be my replacement. You'll make a great Sassy manager.”

Gigi jumped to her feet and pulled me to mine. “Ohmygawd, ohmygawd, ohmygawd! You got promoted! I knew it! I heard a rumor that Blakely had let Cherise go, and really, who could blame her, and then I just knew you would end up with her job. Ohmygawd, this is, like, so totally awesome! Can we tell yet? Or is it a secret because as you know, I can totally keep—”

“I'm quitting.”

Gigi dropped my hands. “You're…”

“Quitting.” I sank back down into my chair. “I'm just not cut out for this. I need a fresh start somewhere else, where I have a better understanding of the corporate religion.”

“Corporate religion…” Gigi's voice trailed off. She was clearly not as interested in understanding my obscure reference as she was in trying to grasp the overall implication of my announcement. “Are they forcing you out?”

I shook my head. “No, in fact, if I had told Blakely what she wanted to hear I might have been able to convince her to give me Cherise's job.”

“What did she want to hear?”

“That I would be less like myself and more like you.”

The corners of Gigi's mouth twitched, but she refrained from breaking into a full grin. “Are you sure about this? I mean, are you going to tell Liz today?”

I nodded. “Right after we're through, I'll give her two weeks' notice.”

“They might want you to leave right away,” Gigi said more to herself than to me.

“Under different circumstances maybe, but with Dorita's vacation coming up I'm sure they'll want me to see the two weeks through.”

Gigi smiled absently. “Nice of you to offer to recommend me.”

But we both knew that my recommendation was an unnecessary formality. The job was hers and she probably wouldn't have to work it a year before she was promoted again. Gigi didn't have to convert to Dawson's religion. She was already practically a priestess.

Gigi lifted her mirror and checked her lipstick. “I'm going back to the floor. I won't tell the girls anything until you chat with Liz. It's totally cool with me if you want to be the one to break the news.”

I blinked. How could Gigi switch so easily from treating me like a boss to treating me like an employee? “I'll tell them,” I said quietly.

Gigi shrugged indifferently. “Wish you had given me a heads-up sooner.” She put the mirror back down on her desk. “I would've bought balloons.”

 

The rest of the day was like a dream. Liz asked me a few times if I was sure this is what I wanted to do, but I could tell that she wasn't too broken up. We agreed that I would stay two weeks and then my career at Dawson's would be over. I looked over my shoulder as I exited her office and caught her reaching for the phone. I knew she was calling Gigi. It hurt a little to think that I could be so easily replaced, but this had been my decision. My heart began to pick up speed. This was so out of character for me. It was…well, it was the kind of thing my mother would have done, and that thought in and of itself was enough to make me want to run into Liz's office and beg her for my job back.

And that's when it hit me. Pure unadulterated elation. No more pom-poms for me! Liz, Blakely, Marilyn, Gigi, all of Dawson's was behind me now, and in front of me was everything I ever wanted. I had been wrong about my need to settle. I might just be able to have the career of my dreams, too, and thanks to Tad there was no real risk. Caleb was right, even if we fell a little short of the hundred-and-eighty-grand figure it would still be fine. Like we couldn't get by on a hundred and fifty?

I went to Lingerie first and found Allie neatening stacks of bras and panties. She looked up as I approached. “You did it, didn't you?”

I nodded and bit down on my lip. “It's over.”

Allie's mouth formed into an awed smile. “Holy shit.”

“You're telling me!”

“You know I want all the details.” She put down the panties that she had been holding. “Did Blakely burst into a blaze of flames or did she turn into an ice princess? Did Liz take it like an adult or did she make you sing some kind of special Dawson's resignation song? Did Gigi merely jump up and down and break into cartwheels?”