Hillary stood just outside the Greek restaurant on the first floor of the Linden Building and stared at the open cell phone in her hand. Had she heard the man right? Joanna wasn’t interested in giving an interview? She’d promised!
Hillary backed away from a pillar, then turned and rushed for the door.
Charging out into the gray afternoon light, she pressed her hands to the sides of her head, trying to stop her brain from spinning out of control. Somehow, she found her car, climbed in, and drove home, barely registering the other cars, the traffic lights, the people out walking or riding their bikes. Before she knew it, she was in the driveway of her father’s house.
“Fuck,” she screamed, glancing over at the new briefcase she’d brought. She’d gone out yesterday to look for one. Two hundred and seventy-nine dollars. All leather. She wanted to impress Joanna with her professionalism. She’d bought a Waterman fountain pen with a gold tip. Another hundred bucks. A digital camera so she could take pictures. Three hundred and change. A wool, rayon, and silk suit jacket and slacks. Anne Klein. Nordstrom. Even on sale it was over three hundred. But it fit like a glove, made her feel important. Stylish.
So what was she supposed to do now? Go inside and impress her fat-assed father with how cool she looked?
Entering through the back door, she felt as if sharp claws were digging at her shoulder blades.
“Hill, that you?” Her father was in the living room, as usual. Watching something inane on the tube.
“Yeah,” she yelled back. She opened the fridge and grabbed a Coke.
“Hill, would you get me a Sprite?”
“No. I’m busy,” she said, adding, “you damn pervert,” under her breath as she dashed up the stairs.
Flinging the briefcase on the bed, she cracked the top of the can, then stomped around the bedroom. She had to figure out what to do next. She’d signed a contract with the editor at Mill City Magazine that she’d have a feature article to him by tomorrow morning. They wanted it ASAP, mostly because they didn’t want anyone else scooping them. The money she would earn would not only cover everything she’d bought but also put some cash in the bank. Joanna Kasimir’s name was like catnip to an editor. Hillary had talked it up, said they were friends, that she’d picked Joanna up at Flying Cloud the day her private jet had landed. That she’d never used her journalism degree before, but now she felt it was time. The guy wanted a résumé, samples of what she’d written, but Hillary said to take the deal or leave it. If he didn’t want it, somebody else would.
She liked playing hardball with the big guys, felt that she was born to do it. This was her big break. How could Joanna have shafted her? They were kindred spirits. Sisters.
Sitting down on the bed, Hillary pulled off her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse. She moved slowly, deliberately. Once she’d undressed, she hung up the new suit in the closet and then picked up her Coke and walked into the bathroom.
She stood next to the toilet and examined herself in the mirror. “You’re a loser,” she said, a disgusted sneer on her face. “I hate you. You’re a worm. You deserve nothing and that’s what you get. You’re fat. Ugly. Useless!” A rushing noise filled her ears. She was repulsed,
sickened by the sight of her breasts, her hair, her face. Everything about her was just gross.
She opened the medicine cabinet and took out a razor. She felt like a spectator watching someone else. Staring at her image in the mirror, she cut herself, sliced her upper thigh right next to the other cuts that had healed into scars. Blood trickled down her leg. It wasn’t real. But then the pain hit. She closed hear eyes, breathed in deeply, felt a sense of release.
It wasn’t enough. Easing down against the shower door, she cut herself again. Her upper arm, where nobody could see but Cody. He didn’t understand. He never would. Each time she cut again, the tension in her body eased a little more. A few more drops of blood dripped onto the bathroom floor. She set the razor on her knee.
“I hate you,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate you, Joanna Kasimir. You ruined everything. You’ll pay for treating me like I’m nothing. That’s a promise—and I keep my promises.”