Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) (34 page)

“
When
can I read it?
”

“
The
day it
’
s
finished.
 
You
’
re a great
proofreader.
”
 
Her eyes widened.
 
“
Hello.
 
This
town is filled with publishers.
 
Have you considered that avenue?
”

“
I
’
m a business
grad.
 
They want English majors from
Harvard.
”

“
I
wouldn
’
t
rule it out.
 
You can do
anything.
 
I
’
ve always told you
that.
”

“
You
’
re the best.
 
I love you.
”

“
I
love you, too.
 
It
’
ll get better.
”

“
I
hope so.
 
It
’
s only the first week
of August, and this is my seventh interview this month.
”

“
Lucky
seven.
 
Now, go and take the
hairdryer to yourself.
 
Put it on
cool, blot your face with a clean towel, and air yourself off.
 
I
’
m giving you money for a cab, and I won
’
t take no for an
answer.
 
Seriously.
 
Don
’
t even start with me.
 
You need air conditioning.
 
If this new book takes off, I
’
ll buy us one for the apartment.
”

If this new book takes off, I
’
m
afraid I
’
ll
lose you, which is another reason I have to find a job.

“
OK,
”
I
said.
 
“
But you need to let me
pay you back for the cab when I get a job.
”

“
Fine.
 
Whatever.
 
Now, scoot.
 
Your appointment is in ninety
minutes.
 
Traffic might be tight.
”

CHAPTER TWO

With my briefcase in hand, I left our
sorry-looking apartment building on East Tenth Street, and stepped into the
baking sun.
 
Thankfully, at least,
there was a breeze, which was rare these days.
 
For the past month, Manhattan had been
an airless sauna with the coals stacked high and some fool pouring ladles of
water over them in a successful attempt to keep the air miserably moist.
 

I looked down the street for a cab,
and, to my surprise, I didn
’
t
have to wait long to find one.
 
I
held out my hand, the driver spotted me, pulled toward the curb, and I stepped
into the back seat, relieved to find that the air conditioning was turned to
full blast.
 
I positioned myself so
the cool air flowed over me, and I took a breath.
 
It felt wonderful.

“
Fifth
and Forty-Eighth,
”
I
said to the driver, an older woman with a shock of red hair that was clipped
close.
 
“
The Wenn Enterprises
building.
 
Or as close as you can
get me to it for twenty dollars.
”

The woman looked at me in the
rearview mirror with a raised eyebrow.
 
“
I
’
ll do my best.
 
You know how it is during the lunch
hour.
”

“
Whatever
you can do, I appreciate it.
 
And
please make sure you leave room for a tip.
 
Unfortunately, five dollars is all I can afford.
”

“
Don
’
t worry about the tip,
”
the
woman said.
 
“
Some nice young man
just gave me a twenty for a five-dollar fare.
 
We
’
ll take yours out of that.
”

I met the woman
’
s eyes in the
mirror.
 
Sometimes, this city
surprised me with its kindness.
 
“
Thank you.
”

“
Just
paying it forward, sweetie.
 
Now,
you do the same today.
 
OK?
”

“
Deal.
”

And yet another reason why I love it
here.
 
Now, if I can just stay
here.
 
I
’
ve
got to get this job.

We crossed over to Sixth Avenue, the
driver hooked a left past the First Republic Bank and Jerri
’
s Cleaners, and we
started to move uptown.
 
I kept my
gaze fixed on the meter noticing how quickly we were burning through the money
Lisa gave me when I left.
 
Already,
we were at eight dollars and counting.
 
In this traffic, I
’
d
be lucky if she got near Sixth and Fortieth Street, let alone Fifth and
Fortieth.

And I was right.
 
By the time we reached Thirty-Eighth
Street, my twenty dollars was gone.

“
This
is fine,
”
I
said.
 
“
I can walk from here.
”

“
You
going back to work?
”

“
I
wish I had work.
 
I
’
m going for an
interview.
 
I think this is about my
hundredth interview in the past few months.
”

“
Looking
like you do, I
’
d
think someone would hire you in a minute.
”

Before I could deflect the
compliment, the woman pressed a button.
 
A receipt started to print, and she clicked off the meter.
 
“
Can
’
t
show up looking like a mop, now can you?
 
No one
’
s
going to hire a mop.
 
Don
’
t worry about it.
 
The fares uptown always pay.
 
I
’
ll make up for it.
”

“
You
’
re incredibly kind.
”

“
Just
paying it forward.
 
I know what it
’
s like trying to find
a job in this rotten economy.
 
Still
pulling myself out of it.
 
I take it
you
’
re
not from here?
”

“
I
’
m from Maine.
 
Moved here in May.
”

“
Without
a job?
”

“
Just
one of the many stupid things I
’
ve
done in my life.
 
There
’
s so much to offer
here, I thought it would be easy to find work.
 
Well, at least easier than finding work
in Maine, where there are zero jobs.
”

“
Nothing
’
s easy in New York,
sweetie.
 
But pay it forward.
 
Every day do someone a kindness.
 
You
’
ll see.
 
Things
will turn around for you.
 
They did
for me.
”

When we pulled alongside Wenn Enterprises,
which was a gleaming, modern skyscraper that seemed to catch the sun and toss
it back to kiss the sky, the woman adjusted her rearview mirror so I could look
into it.
 
“
Do you have a compact?
”

“
I
do,
”
I
said.
 
I lowered my head and saw why
she asked
—
despite
the air conditioning, my face was shiny.
 
I opened the right side of my briefcase and removed one.

“
I
’
d blot.
”

“
Blotting.
”

“
Under
the eyes.
”

“
Eyes.
”

“
Don
’
t forget your neck.
”

“
Neck.
”

“
Now,
kill the interview.
”

“
You
must have some very lucky children.
”

“
I
’
m the lucky one,
”
the
woman said, taking the twenty I handed her.
 
“
I remind myself of that every day.
”

CHAPTER THREE

Once inside the lobby, which was a
hive of activity as people stepped into and out of elevators and crisscrossed
in front of me, I approached the reception area.
 
I was so nervous that my heels sounded
to me like drum taps on the marble floor.
 

A man looked up at me.
 

“
I
’
m Jennifer Kent,
”
I
said.
 
“
I have an interview
with Barbara Blackwell.
”

“
Ms.
Blackwell?
”

“
Sorry.
 
Yes, Ms. Blackwell.
”

He typed something into his computer,
read the screen, picked up the phone that was next to him, and made a
call.
 
“
Jennifer Kent to see
Ms. Blackwell.
 
Shall I send her
up?
 
I understand that she
’
s early, but she
’
s nevertheless
here.
 
Thank you.
”

He hung up the phone and motioned
toward the elevators.
 
“
Fifty-first
floor.
 
Take a right when the doors
open.
 
You
’
ll find a sitting area
to your left.
 
You
’
re early.
 
Wait there for a bit, and Ms. Blackwell
’
s assistant will come
for you.
”

“
Thank
you,
”
I
said.
 
“
Sorry I
’
m early.
”

“
Better
than late,
”
he
said.

*
 
*
 
*

When the doors opened, I steeled
myself and stepped into the hallway.
 
I saw the sitting area, went to it, and found it packed.
 
There was no room to sit down.
 
Fourteen faces looked up at me, eyes
roamed over me, and one fat man stuffed into a gray business suit that barely
contained his girth smiled suggestively at me.

“
Excuse
me,
”
someone
said as they brushed past me in the narrow hallway.

“
Sorry.
”

“
Right.
”

Christ.

“
Julie
Hopwood?
”