Julie looked at herself in the reflection of her car and tugged at the bottom of her blazer. Despite the distorted image, she looked professional and well put together. She’d chucked her gum already and managed to remember to bring two extra copies of her resume. What’s more, she was early. And thanks to a second cup of coffee, she was extra alert.
As she waited for the bank to open, she inspected the glass building and the cars parked out front. In all of its newness, it was a neighborhood designed for and inhabited by the affluent. Doctors and lawyers and accountants. Maybe a small business owner or a teacher among them. All driving their luxury class sedans and souped-up soccer mom-mobiles.
The bank itself, though, was similar to Regions with its linear minimalist design and brightly colored marketing panels glazed over the windows, each with cliched images of nuclear families cooking and traveling together. A small shaggy dog propped up on a pristine living room sofa, or a set of hardworking newlyweds painting a room in their newly mortgaged home with half-opened boxes strewn about. All banks had them in varying versions, complete with slogans and phrases dabbled over them going on about accruing wealth and family riches. Along with bank accounts, they sold the dreams.
Certainly, Julie counted herself among those who had bought them. It was the reason she was here. She had a detailed vision of the life she wanted to live and being a bank manager was an integral part.
A young guy in a plaid button-down and slacks with a coordinated polka-dot bow tie opened the front door and the first crowd of people rushed to the teller stations. Julie fell in line and veered off to the left toward the lobby waiting area where she sat patiently with her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands folded.
Within a few minutes, a tall slender black man with a nicely tailored suit and freshly polished shoes came out of the office at the far end of the building. He stood directly in front of her with a blank expression and stretched his hand toward her.
“Avery Beckstand,” he announced in a deep echoing bass. “And you must be Julie Laurich. Pleased to meet you.”
That name. Why do I know that name?
Julie rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Yes. Thank you for seeing me today, sir,” she said aloud as her thoughts froze. Her mind raced to place the name.
His lips moved again, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“I’m sorry…what did, what did you say?”
Mr. Beckstand cleared his throat. “I asked if you were ready?” he repeated.
“Am I ready?” Sweat beaded at Julie’s brows. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. I thought you said something else. Yes, I’m ready,” she answered quickly, blinking rapidly.
He turned toward his office and gestured for Julie to follow him. On his heels, she took staggered steps, still trying to place him. She was certain that they’d never met. She would have remembered his face. But his voice? His voice was oddly familiar. That name, she knew it, well.
Is he a customer?
His body was slender, but he didn’t look like a gym rat. Definitely not from school, he looked older than her by at least five or so years.
Maybe the grocery store?
As she took her place in the sleek wood-grained chair facing him, she plastered on a tight smile and nodded. First things first. The job was why she was here. It came second to nothing, especially not placing a face that might not have been meaningful anyway. She’d have to figure out how she knew him later.
“So, Miss Laurich, I’ve had a chance to look over your resume. Tell me why you’re considering leaving Regions?”
Julie cleared her throat. Time to get serious. “Well, Mr. Beckstand, I’d prefer not to leave Regions. However, there isn’t much room for upward mobility that I’ve experienced. I’m looking for career growth and I believe that American Bank could be the place for me to recognize my potential.”
He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips together. “I see. And what makes you think you’ll be a good fit for American Bank?” he said, as if he had literally thrown the ball back in her court.
Julie knew all about this tactic, though. Elise had let her sit in on a few interviews over the years. She’d said that it was always best to keep the candidate talking. Her 80/20 rule. The interviewee should be talking eighty percent of the time and the interviewer only twenty.
Elise would focus on open-ended questions and listen for what she called “fluff”—any answer that included non-experiential prefixes such as “I would,” “I might,” “I usually.” These answers were a dead giveaway. The people who used them had no experience and they were only saying what they thought the interviewer wanted to hear, Elise explained.
Half of the time, Elise had counted people in or out from the second they walked in the building. At the top of her list were time of arrival, level of appropriateness for professional attire, gum-chewing, and whether they had a copy of their—hopefully one page—resume with a relevant objective and up-to-date contact information.
Believe it or not, most candidates failed upon entry in her book. The biggest mistake, she mentioned, was when the candidate hadn’t read the job description for which they were applying.
Whether or not Elise wanted to help Julie succeed, she already had.
Both for the sake of time and to increase her chances, she cut straight to the chase and laundry-listed her qualifications.
“Mr. Beckstand, over my combined seven years of banking and sales experience, I’ve had an opportunity to partake and assist in overseeing the running of a branch from all perspectives, including, but not limited to meeting tough sales targets, ensuring that the branch is operationally sound, and developing business. I’m versed and trained in consumer and business account opening and lending. I have a NMLS number for property-secured lending. I’m a notary. I’m not licensed for investments, but I’m a top referrer and efficient at recognizing when our high-value affluent clients might benefit from having an advisor. If you require them, I have multiple references and I have these.” She pulled out a file, bulging at the spine and slid it over the desk to him.
“And what are these?” he asked with raised brow seriousness.
“Please open it. I’ve taken the liberty to provide you with a copy of my ranking over the past two years at Regions, my annual reviews, certificates of achievement, service letters from clients, and regional recognition from two district managers.”
His lips parted, and seconds later, his expression softened. With his focus on Julie, he leaned back in his chair and let his posture open up. Still, he said nothing; but as he released a sigh and drummed his fingers on the top of the desk, his eyes brightened.
For the next twenty minutes, he seemed to be going through the motions for the sake of going through the motions. His mood lifted considerably, as if he’d taken off his interviewer hat and put on his colleague hat. Almost to the minute after Julie stepped down from her soapbox, he became a regular motormouth, talking about the fickle weather and the chances of his Astros making it to the World Series, despite Julie’s being a Cubs fan.
He’d already discussed benefits and how the variable compensation worked, when he started winding the conversation down. “Which branch are you at? Is it the one over on North Decatur?” he asked.
“Yeah. Not too far from here,” Julie added.
“Oh, so you’re with Elise Tisdale,” he said. But it wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it, the way his chin suddenly jutted out. He squinted with a hard smile—a look that radiated superiority. Beckstand let out an arrogant laugh and clasped his chin as if he was struck by deep thoughts.
Up until that point, he seemed like a good guy. She’d written him off as a little dramatic and overly-confident, but it wasn’t enough to crucify him. Now she remembered why she knew that name. He was the eggplant. The other half of Elise’s phone sex conference calls. The frequent-caller with the deep bass voice.
Suddenly the fog cleared. The secure feeling that Julie had, telling herself she was a shoo-in a few minutes earlier, was gone. Either this guy was as big a tool as her gut told her he was, or he and Elise were playing her.
Julie sat up straighter now. “Yes. She’s my manager.” Her mouth pinched with the tension in her jaw.
Beckstand fussed with a piece of lint on the lapel of his blazer. “And does she know you’re here?” He projected his voice now, as if to reinforce his upper hand.
She clasped her hands on the desk, betting on the former of her suspicions. “No,” she stated firmly.
Time stood still in that moment as they stared each other down, waiting for the other to call their bluff. Beckstand blinked first.
“Miss Laurich, I can’t make any promises right now, as protocol requires that I consider all eligible candidates who have submitted resumes by this coming Friday…” He lifted his chin. “However, I’d like to unofficially offer you one of the positions for bank manager at American Bank.”
He rose to his feet with perfect posture, shoulders back, and exposed neck. Once again, he extended his hand toward Julie.
One of the positions?
Julie let his hand hang in the air. “I’m sorry, how many positions do you have open in the northwest?” she clarified. “I thought you only had one branch in the northwest part of town.” Her eyes narrowed.
In the back of her mind, she scrolled through the job posting. It had said Northwest, she was sure. Her chest tightened now. Had she read it wrong?
Lowering his hand, Beckstand took his seat again. “I apologize for any confusion, but I was certain you read the location details. We have two branch manager positions available currently, both in the Northwest Region,” he dragged out the word. “One here in Centennial Hills in northwest Las Vegas, Nevada, and one in Portland, Oregon. We’re expanding our footprint as a bank,” he explained.
Julie plopped down on the seat and let her purse fall beside her.
“Miss Laurich? The recruiter should have mentioned that we’ve already made an offer for the Las Vegas branch. I’m sorry. Would you still like to be considered for the position in Portland? I know that’s a big change of scenery, but we do cover relocation expenses.”
The right words didn’t quite come to her. “Hmmm.” She opened and closed her mouth, pulling in a deep breath and releasing it. “This is a tough decision.”
Damn it.
The pros and cons flashed by in rapid succession as she weighed all the things that mattered to her. Besides the obvious, her mom and Liz, now there was Nico. But, if there was a time to end it, it was now, before things got any more serious. Especially, after last night, she didn’t want argue any more than she wanted to depend on someone new.
On the flip side, Patrick and Celeste would always be there flaunting their new baby in front of her. She’d keep running into them.
Plus, Portland was self-proclaimed weird. Ugh.
A frog-like croaking sound echoed from her stomach and she squeezed her arms around her waist. She needed time to think. Then Liz’s voice replayed in her ear. “Study long, study wrong,” she often warned.
And just like that, Julie grimaced, and nodded.
What the fuck did I just do?
Julie raced through traffic. Day one and she was already going to be late to Kid Savers. How in the hell was she supposed to teach children about responsible finance and saving when her mind was a mess? She’d just committed, not only to a new job, but to an entirely new state. A state she’d never even been to before. This was crazy. She simply wasn’t in her right mind.
It occurred to her to call Elise and cancel, but what was she going to say? “Sorry, I can’t do your Kid Savers stuff because I’m mind-blown that I just accepted a new job? Oh, and by the way, it was your phone sex buddy who hired me?” Great. Just great.
Sweat greased her palms on the steering wheel and she wiped them on the seat. She checked the clock on the dash again. Nine forty-five. Fifteen minutes to get to Evans Elementary safely, find parking, check in, and find the damn classroom. Awesome. Fuck.
“Great, Julie. Why not just crush everyone you know and love under your ugly heel,” she scorned herself. “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she screamed in the car.
On her left, in the car beside her, a perky pony-tailed mother with her matching cardigan set stared at Julie, who frankly couldn’t care less at the moment. There were more important things to worry about now. Like how she was going to break the news to Nico. Gorgeous, sweet Nico, who had poured his freaking heart out to her. Nico, who had said he was falling for her. Ugh.
Totally out of line with her luck, Julie made it. In fact, in record time she’d passed through three green lights. And not just that, she happened to pull into the parking lot just as someone was backing out of a space directly in front of the main office. To top it all off, a pint-sized classroom representative with a backpack bigger than she was awaited her with a name badge to escort her to her assigned classroom.
It was like the stars had aligned to ensure she kept her promise. If you’re going to jump at a new opportunity without regard for anyone else’s feelings, get to the heartbreak stat. In Julie’s case, she’d opted for Portland, so there was no sense in the universe delaying the inevitable. She’d have to tell Nico, sooner rather than later.
Only, she was sort of hoping to tell him much, much later. Like, ignore him until it was time for her to leave and then maybe place a note on the windshield of his truck. She was hoping for the kind of letdown that avoided face-to-face contact. That was going to be damn near impossible.
If she hadn’t been sure before, she was one hundred percent certain now that the universe was working against her. As soon as she opened the door to the classroom, there was Nico. Mr. Farfalla. The teacher she’d be assigned to for the next week. Nope, the universe was not on her side at all.
Gorgeous as ever in khakis with a baby blue gingham button-down and a panoramic view of his dimples. How was she going to tell him about the job offer now? Oh by the way, I’m taking a job offer that’s going to move me out of state, which means you and I are over, pal.
The second he turned his attention to Julie, his lashes did a fluttery, wispy fanning motion, pulling a smile from the corners of his liquid brown eyes.
Why does he have to be so damned hot? If he were uglier, this would be easier.
For the next half hour, Julie muddled through her regimented lesson plan provided by the bank. She hemmed and hawed about the importance of saving. They went over a glossary of definitions that included words like money, currency, interest, and banks. The material wasn’t a Pulitzer Prize-winning grade, but the kids seemed to enjoy it and it gave her something to do to avoid eye contact with Nico.
Elise didn’t need know, but Julie actually enjoyed herself, playing games and giving the kids treats and prizes for their participation.
When the day wound down, she found herself wishing it wasn’t over—that she had more time with the kids. Seeing them absorb the information—learning—she wanted more of that. More purpose to her work. It was validation that she should be a manager. She should be giving back to the community, and helping people understand and excel in finance.
Elise may not have seen it that way, but Julie did. Which only further validated her choice to move on from Regions. Even if that meant relocating to Portland.
With a renewed sense of determination, Julie closed the door after the last kid left, and turned to Nico.
“What are you up to after this?” she asked, hoping to break the ice. They’d been in professional mode all day.
He locked his desk drawer and slid a stack of papers into a folder. “I, um…” he started, still focused on the task at hand. “I’m just, uh, going to throw this stuff in my bag here and then I’m going to take you somewhere and feed you a good meal, if you’ll allow me to,” he said in his trademark nonchalant way. It was as if he was talking about mundane housework and errands, not a meal or quality time.
Julie’s heart beat heavy and hard. She could almost feel her blood moving through her chest, slow like sludge. This was just what she needed—a heart attack. She held her chest and prayed for the best, even though she expected the worst.
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk,” she said quietly. Her shoulders curled forward, caving her chest inward. She hadn’t noticed it before, but her hands were trembling now. As much as she wanted to run, she couldn’t. She had to do this. It would only be worse, the longer she waited. When it came down to it, hurting him was the last thing Julie wanted to do.
Nico seemed none the wiser to Julie’s impending heart failure. His bag was zipped and ready to go. In the amount of time she’d spent hyping herself up to break the bad news, he’d nearly cleaned the whole classroom.
“What’s on your mind? Thinking about your boss, or the pregnant cousin, or the ex?” His ears perked and brows raised, awaiting her usual playful response. “Oh, or is it the pregnant ex-friend?”
Dizzy and a little shaky on her feet, Julie grabbed hold to one of the small chairs and used it for balance.
“Is it that bad?” Nico glanced up at Julie, but when he got a good look at her, the laughter in his eyes faded quickly only to be replaced by worry. He rushed over to her, just as she drained into the chair. “Have you eaten anything today? Look at me. When was the last time you ate, Jules?”
“No.”
In seconds, Nico pulled a water bottle from the side pocket of his bag and twisted the top off. “Here. Drink this. You don’t look so good.” He rubbed her forehead and pushed her hair back. “We’ve got to start taking better care you.”
At the word “we,” Julie began to hyperventilate. Where before her heartbeat had been sluggish and heavy, it now raced. Her skin tingled and her vision blurred. It seemed the closer she got to saying the words, the harder he made it for her to let the words graze her tongue.
“I’m going to be fine—”
The words slurred, and suddenly everything went black.
Images flashed before her, mostly Nico in different settings. In the classroom. In the car. Before long, in her condo, up close as he sat on the edge of her bed.
Then, nothing.